Page 285 of Chandelier Sin
She barged past me wheeling a blue suitcase behind her. “Surprise!”
Cameron flashed her an annoyed look. “You didn’t warn me you were coming.”
“Warn you?” She shook her head. “I’m your sister.” She looked me up and down. “Hi, I’m Willa.”
“Atticus. Nice to meet you.”
It sure looked like she’d be staying a while.
I looked at Cameron and could tell we were thinking the same thing.
We both turned toward the staircase and peered up in the direction of Greyson’s bedroom.
Now that was bad timing.
Cole refocused his gaze on her. “You’ll have to stay with Henry.”
“Why can’t I stay here? You have ten bedrooms!”
“I have a special guest.” He straightened his back. “Come in and we’ll talk about making other arrangements.”
“Make me feel welcome, why don’t you.”
I cleared my throat and walked past his sister, deciding it was a good time for me to leave.
I noticed she had striking features like her older brother’s, his high cheekbones and intelligent eyes. She was like a female version of him. The way she scrutinized me as I headed for the door was not unlike the way Cole analyzed a person.
“Atticus, Eve mentioned going to Beverly Glen to gather a few things,” Cameron said, finally answering my question.
“When?” I asked, throat tightening.
“Now.”
I hurried out.
Driving my McLaren hard, I sped toward Eve’s old home, confused as to why she’d go back there, and hating the idea that she’d step foot in that place again.
Within half an hour, I was cruising up the driveway, recalling the time I’d first visited Eve on this estate.
Those events had led inexorably to others, resulting in a continuous maelstrom of chaos. She’d been caught up in a life she’d hadn’t chosen for herself.
The front door was open.
Stepping inside, I took in the scene of an abandoned home, as though someone had swept through collecting furniture and leaving the interior bare.
The dusty floors and eerie quiet, along with the absence of any staff, indicated the mansion was empty—everyone had left.
Instead of calling out for her, I hurried around searching every room, every cupboard, every corner, seeking her out.
I knew she wouldn’t text or call for fear of her phone being tracked—especially after what went down at Pendulum.
I should have bought us burner phones.
I rubbed my forehead, trying to keep myself from launching into a full-fledged panic attack, fearing they’d gotten to her.
Then I remembered—Eve preferred the cottage. I headed that way, hurrying past the fountain.
For her, the harsh memories of abuse were abundant here.
