Page 66 of Goldsin

“Some rich family from Rome. Can’t remember his name, but it’s all been settled.” His gaze flicks to the side, and I can tell this is bothering him more than he wants to admit.

“Fuck . . .” I mutter.

Eleanora and Emeric’s “love story” has been ongoing for years. They may like this little arrangement they have going on, but I know it’s cutting at him.

The thought that things might be ending stings even the strongest of people. No one likes change. Especially change that is permanent.

I’m not too close to Eleanora, but I still feel somewhat sorry for her too. She deserves better than a loveless marriage built on business connections.

Everyone does.

“Anyway.” Emeric clears his throat, changing the subject once again. “I found something that night at Victoria’s cabin that might interest you.”

My curiosity piqued, I raise a brow. “What was it?”

He hands me a worn out piece of paper. “This.”

I flip the paper between my fingers. It looks like it’s been torn from somewhere. A book, maybe? No. It’s handwritten. Perhaps a diary?

“Where did you say you found this?”

“It fell from Aurelia’s hand when we entered the library,” he says, a smile creeping out.

I flick my eyes from the piece of paper to him and back. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this? It’s old and”—I wrinkle my nose—“smells like death mixed with sex.”

“Would you just bloody read it, mate?” he snaps, pushing the hand holding the paper closer to my face.

I do as he says and scan the crumpled paper. With the smudged ink, it takes me longer to decipher what the messy handwriting says, but as I read on, I feel this growing sense of disgust and confusion in the pit of my stomach.

“Master says I must be more obedient,” the writing says.“He tells me I am not allowed to disobey him again, or else I will be punished. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I promise. I promise to be better. For him.”

“Who the fuck wrote this?” I lift my eyes to meet Emeric’s expectant gaze. The smug expression he had before is now long gone, replaced by something far more serious.

“Keep reading.” Nodding his chin toward the paper, he urges me to continue.

Even if I don’t want to, I return my attention to the disturbing words as my stomach turns in on itself.

“Master says I cannot speak to anyone unless spoken to first. He tells me I am too opinionated and that I need to learn my place.”

“Master says he will teach me where I belong.”

“Jesus Christ,” I breathe, looking up at Emeric again. “What the hell is this?”

“Like I said, Aurelia dropped it when you practically dragged her out of the library like a caveman claiming his prize.”

My grip tightens on the paper, crumpling it even more. I stare at him. “This is fucked-up, Emeric.”

Why was Aurelia reading this? Did she write it?

“This isn’t all of it.” He closes the distance between us, dragging his finger over the page still clutched in my hands, bypassing sentences that send chills down my spine. “I was confused too when I was reading it. But it was here”—he points to a specific line—“that everything made a little more sense.”

“Lucian wants me dead.”

My chest constricts as the words slam into me at full force, and my mind starts to race with a million questions.

What the hell is going on? Who does Lucian want dead? Is it Aurelia?

Dread creeps up my spine, wrapping itself around my heart. The thought of Lucian putting his filthy hands on her twists my insides; tortures me in the slowest of ways.If I’m not able to protect her after everything I’ve done and sacrificed ...

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