And just like that he releases the door and I seize my moment to escape. I yank the handle down and run as fast as I can through the long winding corridors, desperately trying to retrace my steps. I dart up the grand staircase and scamper into the safety of the bedroom. My heart hammers, and I do the only logical thing I can in this moment. I run and swan-dive onto the bed, pulling the thick duvet over my head and momentarily disappearing from the world.
One hour to give Lucian an answer.
One hour to decide if I sell my soul to the Devil.
One hour…
Lucian
The door slams, and just like that Chelsea is gone. This is what I get for drunkenly proposing to a woman who has no interest in being my fiancée, even if the proposal was a sham.
I curl my fingers around the door and squeeze the wood. I wait till my knuckles turn white before releasing.
Time to face the music.
I leave my home office and head down the corridor. I stop walking and retrieve my grandfather’s pocket watch from my jacket pocket. I flick the clasp open to reveal the domed face and watch the hands silently tick away. I make a mental note of the time, because in one hour from now I will know Chelsea’s decision.
I re-enter the dining room and can’t miss the shocked expression on Malachi’s face. “Blimey, she couldn’t get away fast enough. She sped past the kitchen like a fox escaping a hound.”
I should tell Malachi that this has been one big misunderstanding, to save myself the embarrassment. But I can’t help but cling onto a tiny molecule of hope. I hitch a shoulder while making my way to my seat. “I informed Chelsea that Farrah is joining us for lunch. She went to freshen up.”
“Oh, right. That would explain it.” The cloud of doubt from moments ago seems to evaporate. “But you’re going to have to explain it to me again. I just can’t get my head around it. How one second she hates you, and the next you’re engaged. Have you even bothered to run a background check on her? Is it financial or social gain she wants?”
“I’ve told you already. It was a whirlwind romance, now stop asking.” Of all days my brother could have dropped by unannounced, he chooses today. Of course he just happened to overhear the maids gossiping about the woman in the guest bedroom and the fact she’s wearing our grandmother’s engagement ring.
“Why did you have to go and tell everybody that I’m engaged?” I blurt out. “It wasn’t your news to share.” But what I’m really saying is,You’ve royally landed me in it.With the exception of my father, who is away on a golfing weekend, my family are staying nearby in readiness for the charity gala this evening. They will no doubt expect me to turn up with my fiancée on my arm.
Malachi’s brows draw in as he tries to look serious. “I didn’t tell everybody, only Farrah.”
By telling our kid sister Malachi may as well have broadcast it on every bloody television station from here to Timbuktu.
I sit down in the chair, pick up the newspaper and continue from where I left off. A full twenty minutes pass before the doorbell chimes.
I squeeze the page in my fist whilst forcing a smile. “Excellent, that will be Farrah.”
Lucky for me, my sister likes to arrive fashionably late—a trait that I usually hate, though in this instance I am grateful for every minute. Malachi and I leave the dining room and head to the hallway to greet her. I haven’t seen my little sister in months. My hope is that it will be easy to fill the time with conversation before I address the subject of Chelsea.
Malachi’s steps are sprightly, whereas mine are slow and controlled. I pull off arrogant and blasé daily, because those two emotions come so naturally to me, but not today. Today I’m on edge, my hands tremble of their own accord and a thin layer of sweat gathers at my temples because I have so much riding on what happens during the next four weeks. One wrong move could scupper my chance of securing the business I so desperately want, and that is simply not an option.
Malachi peers around several times and frowns. I suspect he wonders why I’m not at his side. This doesn’t prompt me to walk faster, only to drag my heels. He rounds the corner to the hallway, and I stand still, gathering my thoughts.
“Malachi!” my sister squeaks, and the warm sound of her voice is all the incentive I need to join them. I pick up my pace and see Farrah in Malachi’s arms. Her long black hair takes flight as he spins her around.
When her feet are back on the marble floor, she turns toward me. “Lucian!” Her squeals echo around the grand room as she runs toward me. I open my arms wide and envelop her in a hug. “I’ve missed you,” she says.
“You too, sis.” I make eye contact with Dante, my sister’s leading bodyguard. He is a little taller than me, and a lot wider. His hair is cropped short and he’s wearing a black suit and tie. “I’ll take it from here.” I’m surprised when he doesn’t leave. “I said I’ll take it from here,” I repeat, unsure if Dante has momentarily lost his hearing or is being blatantly rude. My father is somewhat overprotective when it comes to my little sister, so much so that she has a bodyguard who accompanies her everywhere she goes. But Dante’s services aren’t required for the short amount of time she is here.
Dante folds his arms in front of his chest. “Your father informed me that I’m to stay. He said you have a spare bedroom in the servants’ wing.”
I quirk a brow. “Spare bedroom?”
I look down at my sister, who is looking up. Her ivory complexion is pink and blotchy. She snorts loudly. “I was so excited when Malachi said I am going to have a sister. So much so that he suggested I stay for a little while to get to know her. Isn’t that exciting?”
In other words, Malachi has arranged for Farrah to be his little spy. I release Farrah, just as three of my maids, Flossy, Nancy and Claire, enter through the front door with Farrah’s cases—all six of them.
“Exactly how long do you plan on staying?”
Farrah shrugs. “I don’t know. A week, maybe two.”