Page 31 of Liars and Liaisons

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I learn very quicklyduring my stay at the James estate that Grayson is not a social butterfly, like the rest of his family. Nate was always up for a party or other outing and often dragged me with him under the claim that he couldn’t stand to be away from me for too long.

Clearly, that is no longer the case.

Even Grayson’s oldest brother and his parents are frequently spotted around New York City, attending charity balls and movie premieres and whatever else they can do to keep their names in the press. In every photograph, they’re beaming from ear to ear, eager to offer the media whatever they want.

Once Grayson showed me to my room, he disappeared to his and hasn’t come back out.

Craving a bit of normalcy or at least mundane conversation, I take it upon myself to become acquainted with the house staff. Janus and Arsen, the security team leads, trade off holding vigil outside the room Grayson’s locked himself in on the main level. The former has beige skin, long black hair, and piercing gray eyes while the latter has dark brown skin and hair that’s shaved on the sides and flat on top. He is bulkier, constantly wearing short-sleeved shirts that showcase his biceps, and a slightly less sour expression on his face.

Though neither man ever seems willing to hold a conversation with me, Arsen at least tends to err on the friendlier side, allowing me to knock once a day, just to see if Grayson has any duties he’d like to assign.

I’m still not totally sure what I’m doing here. Just that he paid an exorbitant amount of money for my presence and I would have been stupid to turn it down.

Even though I’m not doing anything, I’mtechnicallyearning the checks. It’s just that my boss is a maniac and won’t come out of his room.

Either way, I’ll be able to prove the earnings.

The housekeepers at least are more my speed. Micah and Willow practically combust with excitement when they see me, as if they’ve been deprived of social interaction for decades.

The former is a wide-eyed idealist with white-blonde hair, almost sickly pale skin, and sky-blue irises. She practically tackles me when we meet, her excitement like an overflowing cup. Willow, in contrast, stands back and hovers when she introduces herself. Her dark gaze roves over me in a not unfriendly way, like she’s unsure if she can trust me, but wants to. Seeming to come to a conclusion, she gives me a curt nod, then turns and walks off, her long hair swishing across her bare, golden bronzed shoulders.

They give me a partial tour of the property, highlighting their favorite parts of working here. Micah loves the goats, while Willow likes the serene mountaintops, and the fact that she can do Grayson’s laundry and check tags for the expensive designer brands he buys.

I spend most of my time tagging along while they work, trying to make myself useful, and convincing Cora via text that I don’t need to be rescued.

And very little time sleeping.

When I ask about the sounds that seem to plague the estate—constant ethereal moaning and creaking that seems to echo through the halls—they don’t have any idea what I’m talking about.

“I know everyone says the Arcadian Woods are haunted, but honestly, I think that’s a rumor Mr. James made up when his sons were young. Just to keep people away while he beat them senseless,” Willow tells me one day while taking a break from washing the kitchen windows.

My brows shoot up, my hands pausing from pruning a half-brown rose bush outside one of the sleeping porches. The shears I found in the barn are dull, but since the bush is fairly weak, removing the leaves and cutting back the dead wood isn’t as difficult as it might otherwise be.

This is what I’ve resorted to, though spending any time with flowers isn’t much of a hardship. I just can’t help feeling totally useless, and I’m confused as to why he hired me to clean when he already has two housekeepers. They won’t even let me do much of anything.

“Their dad beat them?” I ask, just to keep the conversation going.

“Supposedly,” Micah interjects from across the patio, where she’s brushing a black goat’s fur.

“His wives too. That’s why he had three of them; by the time one found the courage to leave, he’d already moved on to the next. I heard Grayson got it the worst because his mom was actually the favorite.”

Micah tucks a piece of that white blonde hair behind her ear and glares at her coworker. “You know you almost got fired the last time the professor heard you talking about his father.”

Willow rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m just saying what I’ve overheard at his family functions.”

“Well, that’s how rumors start,” Micah says. “And I don’t want you getting fired and leaving all the stupid work for me. Do you know how boring it’d be up here without you?”

“Violet’s here now.” Willow shrugs. “She can keep you company in my absence.”

“Who knows how long she’s staying? This is probably just another of Grayson’s weird, impulsive attempts at manipulating his family into admitting their wrongdoings. She could be gone before sunup, and then I’d be here to navigate the lunatic hiding out here all by my lonesome.”

That piques my interest, and I sit back on my haunches. “He’s done this before?”

They look at each other, then me. Willow pushes a multicolored headband up her forehead and sits forward.

“Well, notexactly,” she says. “It’s just that he’s a button-pusher. He does whatever he wants, no matter the consequences. Some people used to theorize that it was a part of his creative process, but…”

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