Page 26 of Cruel Pleasures
I find the resolve to crawl out of bed and shuffle over to the window to draw the drapes shut. The thick fabric’s clenched within my fingers when I freeze. Any drowsiness vanishes. My eyes widen and I take a step back.
I drew the drapes last night. I pulled them close right after I?—
A gasp leaves me.
The dresser I had moved against the door has been returned to its rightful place several feet away. The pepper spray I’d placed under my second pillow is gone. The bedroom lights are off.
“What the fuck?”
I rush over to my luggage to find the pepper spray canister still packed away like I never touched it. A hand scrubs over my face, my brain trying to process the confusion filling me up.
There’s no way I’d imagined doing those things, had I? I was exhausted. I had been practically drifting off at the window.
But I’m also essentially captive in the house from hell.
As unnerved as I am puzzled, I jump in the shower in hopes for more clarity.
Timothee knocks at my door when I’m toweling off minutes later. I answer to find him presenting me with an armful of fresh towels and a folded up Terry cloth robe.
“The day is yours to spend as you like, Ms. Newton,” he says. “But we urge you to take full advantage of our many amenities at the manor. You are more than welcome to take a dip in one of our five pools, including the breathtaking rooftop pool. The spa is available for any facial and body treatments you may desire. We also have activities like tennis, badminton, golf, horseback riding, and archery. Today at noon there is a sip and paint class hosted by?—”
“I’ve looked over the brochure, Timothee,” I interrupt, adding on a smile. “I’ll keep all that in mind. Thank you.”
I close the door in his face with a soft snick, then tilt my head to the side once alone. He called me Ms. Newton. Does this mean…?
The rest of the morning passes with me holed up in my room strategizing. Timothee sends up a trolley of breakfast by the time the clock strikes ten a.m. I indulge in some eggs, fruit, and orange juice and sit around considering my options before I finally decide on my next move.
For now, I’m playing my role.
I’m going to keep my eyes peeled and ears open to any info about Lyra. But I’m also going to be seeking my best chance at getting the hell out of here.
With that in mind, I change into a bathing suit and grab one of the fresh towels Timothee provided. I find Talia Weinberg lounging on the rooftop pool, giant shades covering her eyes. She’s not alone; a blonde lays beside her on a chaise. Both women seem to be making the most of the weak sunlight.
Better than yesterday’s storminess, but by no means suntanning weather.
I sit down on the chaise lounge on Talia’s left. I don’t even need to say anything for the pinched brunette to speak to me.
She pulls her sunglasses down ’til they sit on the tip of her nose. “Well, look who it is. We weren’t sure if we’d see you again.”
“And that would be because?”
“Last night. You screamed bloody murder.”
Maybe because there was a bloody murder.
“Oh, that,” I say, pushing my own pair of sunglasses onto my face. I lay back and turn my face up toward the sky like them. “I’m squeamish. I don’t like blood.”
The blonde scoffs. “Better get used to it. You’re not at some girl’s summer camp, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. I usually remember bleach blondes.”
Talia lets out a giggle before clapping a hand to her mouth. The blonde sits up, pursing her lips that have been plumped by filler. I don’t need to see her eyes to know she’s glaring at the two of us.
“Olivia Belini. Niece of Hector Belini.”
She says the name with pride, and though she elaborates no further, I understand why. Some say Hector Belini is a crime lord with untold levels of wealth and power. Official records state he’s nothing more than a very successful businessman.
“If you’re squeamish now, I don’t know how you’ll make it through the games,” Talia says. “Nolan and the others were taking bets on whether you’d ever return.”
