I followed at a more leisurely pace. I figured if I got lost, I got lost, but I wasn’t about to play this woman’s stupid games. We seemed to walk down many corridors before we reached the winding staircase. It was definitely not the route we’d taken upstairs and I knew she’d meant to make things difficult for me. When we reached large wooden double doors, she stopped walking and set a hand out to open them.
“Sir, your guest has arrived,” she announced, stepping inside and waiting for me to step in behind her.
I blinked. When she said a study, I’d expected a room with a desk, not a huge library with a dome ceiling. Like the rest of the house, it looked . . . old. Decaying, with wallpaper that had come off in some sections and gold that was rusted on the chandelier. I couldn’t understand why a family with so much money would let this house fall apart like this.
“Thank you, Mayra. That’ll be all,” River said, breaking into my thoughts. I blinked and looked at him before my attention turned to Mayra who was staring at me.
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes when she looked at me right before turning to leave the room.
“Interesting study.” I looked at him, finally. He was sitting behind the desk, dressed in a white button-down with the sleeves folded up.
He had a classic look about him, an old Hollywood star kind of look, with his naturally golden skin, head full of dark hair with that side part, and perfect bone structure. He could play the lead in any film. I thought of the dream again and felt my heart beat a little faster. It had been a dream. A dream that I conjured. I blinked away from my thoughts when I realized he was still staring at me, as if waiting for me to add on to my previous statement.
“What’s interesting about the study?”
“All of it. The ceiling, the grandeur.” I looked at the large colorful stained-glass window behind him. It looked like something that belonged in a basilica, not a home. “The window is especially beautiful.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He turned in his chair and looked at it. “A gift from the Pope.”
“The Pope?” I blinked. “Which one?”
“One of the Piuses. I always get them confused.”
“I’ve never seen this particular image.” I walked forward, around the desk and tilted my head to look at the window up close. “It’s . . . different.”
The glass had clear and yellows, and blues and grays and showed the typical rendition of Our Lady of Charity holding a baby and ascending into the clouds as a shipwreck took place in turbulent waters beneath her. A gift from the Pope. I shook my head. Wela would be beside herself if she was in the mere presence of something like this, knowing its origin.
“A gift for what?” I glanced over my shoulder. River’s dark eyes were on mine, as if he’d been watching me the entire time, even though I’d been turned around.
“A gift for a curse.”
“What do you mean?”
“How much do you know about my family?”
“Enough to know I shouldn’t be here.”
“Didn’t you take the most famous photograph ever taken of the house?” He raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you heed those warnings then?”
I felt myself cower a little. I’d defended having that picture to myself, to my parents, to my family, but I was at a loss for words when it came to someone of the actual Caliban family. I mean, I’d profited a lot from that photograph and technically I had no right to it, and that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to that subject. I focused on taking pictures of the sand. Finally, I thought, fuck it, and met his eyes again.
“Are you offended?”
“Why would I be offended?” He crossed his arms. “I mean, besides the fact that you trespassed private property and took a picture of one of the most sought-after homes in the world and then profited off of it and didn’t even think to ask our permission before doing so.”
“Ouch.” I tore my gaze away from his and looked at the window again. None of what he’d said was wrong, and what was I supposed to say? That I didn’t remember taking the picture at all?
“It’s in the past.”
“And yet you bring it up in such detailed form.” I took and let out a breath before meeting his eyes again. “Was that why you chose me? Is that why you want me here? To ridicule me?”
“Have I ridiculed you?”
“No.”
“Then there’s your answer.”
“Not really. Not at all.” I felt my frown deepen and decided to let bygones be bygones. “I’d like to take the pictures now.”
“Before you’ve had breakfast?”