Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I know she lives somewhere on the grounds, but not here in the house. I’ve noticed a couple of small cottages at the far end, but I’ve never gone back there. That would take me beyond what can easily be seen from the upstairs windows, and I don’t like the idea of having somebody following me around on foot.
Or, god forbid, firing a shot in the air to warn me against wandering too far.
I can’t help myself. It’s just the two of us, and curiosity is killing me at this point. “Have you ever done this before? I mean, cooking food for somebody Lucian has staying here with him?”
“No, you’re the first.” If she thinks there’s anything strange about that, I can’t read it on her face as she plates my food. “Eat up. You could use a little meat on those bones.”
It’s not the first time she’s said that to me, but I would rather not. It’s not the weight that I need, anyway. It’s nutrition, and I can’t ignore how much better I’ve felt over this past week. I’ve slept better. I don’t immediately crave caffeine in the morning just to get myself moving. It helps that I’m not working obnoxious hours, too. As a result, I’ve been able to rest, and as Lucian put it the last time we spoke, take care of myself.
And I can’t even thank him for it. All I can do is wait for the rug to get pulled out from under my feet when he throws me out once he’s tired of me. This is so fucked up.
I have more questions for Greta, but I doubt she would have the answers to them. What did I do to make him stay away from me? Did I insult him somehow? It didn’t seem that way that last day. He was kind, gentle. He made me feel safe for the first time in… God, I don’t even know how long. Maybe ever? At least since I was old enough to understand the way the world works and how much can be taken for granted.
A girl can get used to that sort of thing. She might even decide she likes the feeling and wants more of it. So what does he do? He takes it away. He takes himself away. I feel like I’m walking a tightrope all over again, only I don’t know what’s under me. Is there a net? Or maybe a pit full of alligators? All I know is I can’t look down, or I’ll fall.
I thank Greta for breakfast and leave the kitchen. It’s almost easy to imagine parties here, with everybody laughing and toasting while gathered around the long, marble-topped island. Lucian doesn’t strike me as the type of person to have big family events, though. I don’t even know if he has a family. There certainly aren’t any pictures of anybody anywhere in the house.
That makes me wonder. There has to be something around here to give me some clue about him, about the person he really is. From what I’ve seen so far, everything in the house could have been put together by an interior decorator, or maybe somebody who dresses sets for TV shows and movies.
There’s no heart in it. No personal touches. If I had Lucian’s money, you best believe I would take my time with a house like this. I would make it mine. I would fill it with me. I would also try to spend some time there when I could, but he doesn’t do that, either. And maybe that’s the problem. He’s hardly ever here, so what does it matter if the house says anything about who he is? So long as it’s clean, I guess.
Still, I have to search. I have to know. Otherwise, the questions are going to drive me crazy. I go from room to room, exploring, my footfalls echoing. The dining room, where it looks like thirty people could sit at the table all at once and still have plenty of elbow room. The library, where I’ve spent a couple of afternoons in a chair by the window. There isn’t even anything special about the books—some of them, I noticed, look like they’ve never been opened.
All of this is fake, too. Set dressing. Like he wants to put an image of himself out into the world, even if he never lets the world inside.
Downstairs is an impressive wine cellar and a home gym that looks like something people would pay membership fees to visit. I’m sure he must spend time down here, being as fit as he is. I run my hands over a few of the machines, wondering when he used them last. The attached sauna must get some use, too. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I tried it out, but I’ve never been in one before and don’t know what to expect.