“Whatever, but be careful. There are things...” She stops talking taking my hand, changing her mind about what she was going to say. “Never mind, not important. I’ll cook you a meal or something before you go. We can make it a family thing since Ari is home. If I get some extra money, I can try to help you pay the debt.” At least she is offering although I know it won’t happen. Felix don’t make that kind of money and they have a baby on the way.
“Sounds good, I’d like that.”
Elsabeth isn’t happy about my choice but at least she understands why I am doing it. Our father won’t be able to pay Tristian back, especially not in three days’ time.
I say goodbye and open the store late. Not that it matters. I am afraid we will have to close the doors permanently before long and Tristian’s debt won’t even matter then, we’ll have nothing anyway.
The hours spent at the store are quiet and slow. Time seems to be crawling at a snail’s pace. I have cleaned every inch of the building and gone over all the paperwork. My goal is to leave the store in the best shape I can. Elsabeth won’t step foot in here, she says it reminds her of Mama too much. Ariala basically says the same but they are going to have to suck it up. I’ve had to.
The picture of Vandacamp mansion in the last edition of our monthly paper is staring at me from the counter top.
I keep trying to imagine what it will be like to live in the Vandacamp place and I can’t picture it. I’ve only ever known the comfort and safety of home. What will living there with Tristian be like...do other people live there, or is it only going to be the two of us? I have so many questions and I doubt Tristian will answer any of them, even if I can muster the nerve to ask them.
I am about to close up for the day and phone Felix to see if he can pick me up on his way home when a sight that is becoming all too familiar turns up at the door. Tristian.
“Back so soon. You can’t seem to stay away can you?” I tease attempting to lighten the tension between us. He seems harder than he did when we parted last night. I didn’t think that was possible but his eyes seem darker than before.
“You ready to go?” He runs his hand over his brain tattooed skull.
“Go where?” I ask already knowing the answer. My stomach drops.
“It’s time. Your father is home and resting. I will provide you with anything you’ll need don’t worry about bringing your own things. I take very good care of my employees.”
An uneasy feeling settles into my bones, but I smile weakly. I have the oddest sensation that everything is about to change. Whether it is for the better or not, I am unsure. What I do know is I have no other choice and I find myself wanting to un-ink the man hiding behind the tattoos.
“Can I make a call first?”
“Make it quick.”
I try Elsabeth to let her know my plans are now taking effect immediately but can’t reach her. I left her a voicemail telling her my employer had to leave town and needed me last minute and I will call when I get settled. If anything was up with our father she would call, wouldn’t she?
Just like I called her. The thought crosses my mind but Tristian is tugging my arm and dragging me to his bike.
Chapter 5
ISABELLA
It crosses my mind that I didn’t hug my father when I last saw him. Panic bubbles in my chest as my body sticks to the leather on Tristian’s back. I had forgotten how far into the woods his home lies. Our town isn’t large but the county is huge. There are miles upon miles of nothing but uninhabited woodland. The trees wind around us as the road curves, going from pavement, to gravel, eventually turning to dirt.
I am officially in the middle of nowhere. After miles of nothing, we finally reach our destination. Vandacamp Castle, now known as a mansion, comes into view. My pulse quickens with anxiety. It stands larger than I remembered and no picture I have seen has done it justice. All the curtains are drawn shut. I feel as though the house is screaming ‘Keep Out.’ The cold feeling of being unwelcome sweeps over me.
Tristian leaves me standing alone at the daunting front door, while he parks his motorcycle. Ominous, large, dark oak with a heavy brass knocker stands before me. I have this eerie feeling that someone or something is watching me from the other side of the door, waiting for me to enter. This place gives me the heebie jeebies.
A shiver runs through my bones, which is the oddest sensation paired with the summer heat. Tristian is pushing the heavy door open and ordering me to come inside. My steps falter as I cross the threshold and I nearly topple the two of us to the floor, but I manage to only take myself down. My nerves outweigh my wit right now.
“Not even here a minute and trying to jump my bones. I don’t fuck the help,” he says coldly leaving me in a heap on the cold stone floor. “Get up. I’ll give you the tour and show you to your room.”
He continues thumping his heavy boots across the floor. Getting, up I knock the dust from my clothing. Didn’t he say his housekeeper retired a few weeks ago. This place appears to have not seen a good scrub in months, maybe years, I think to myself as I notice the cobwebs covering the chandelier hanging high above my head. This isn’t a home; it is a deteriorating medieval tomb.
I walk along the worn, red rug that runs the length of the corridor Tristian disappeared down
. Portraits of whom I assume to be his family, line the hall. The paintings are gilded in large, exquisite, golden frames that should belong in a museum.
I find Tristian waiting for me in the renovated kitchen; it looks newer than the rest of the rooms I have passed by. He shows me around the room quickly before taking me up narrow, winding, stone slab stairs. Lanterns light the way with the aid of a small window. This must be the interior of the tower.
The restorations to the place through the years must have cost a fortune.
The upstairs is cleaner and nicer than the lower level. The carpets are newer and the rooms appear untouched. He stops in the center of the hall. “This is the bathroom; it’s the only one upstairs. The warm water takes a few minutes to heat up, and the pressure is low, but it gets the job done.”