Page 11 of Who Owns You?

A prickle that starts on the back of my neck crawls down my back, and I swat at the spot. If there’s a spider down my shirt, I’m going to freak out. Oh god… what if it’s the boogeyman? He could be real.

I shouldn’t be freaking out this hard since I’m alone, but the awareness of apossiblesomething is making my insides twist. Iswing my eyes around the hallway at the top of the steps down to the basement section of the kitchen. The mix of warmer air and the coolness from the basement must be what is throwing me off. The castle is seemingly well kept, but even a dozen blazing fireplaces can’t make castles a consistently comfortable temperature.

I never expected to own property at all, given the economy is at the moment. Praying for a market crash would be incredibly selfish now, but someone suddenly kicks the bucket, and now I have all of this.

My stomach growls, breaking me out of my stupid castle-centric thoughts. I huff and press a fist into my stomach, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling. I should have eaten the dinner on the plane, but the draw of sweet, dreamless sleep was too strong. When nightmares are a regular occurrence, you’ll give anything for a night of peace, even if it means you have to skip overly salty airplane food.

“Maybe there’s a pizza place or something.” I sigh, but the thought makes me giggle.

Any pizza here would be an affront to a possibly real God.

If monsters are real, then why not God? Why not multiple gods?

“Wow, existential much,” I say, allowing myself to slip into that comfortable space you go to when you’re alone in your house. Talking out loud comes as naturally as thought. “Get a snack in your tummy and then knock out…or find your suitcases and then knock out.”

I still haven’t figured out where those went while I was talking to Eloise. Sure, I only checked out the ground floor and basement, but I put at least an hour and a half of effort into the search.

Running my hands along the pristine-looking wallpaper, I take the stairs two at a time to get to where I hope there will bea bedroom. But because nothing is ever easy, a dozen different doors on either side line the first hall I come to on the second level.

“This is going to be impossible.”

Not as impossible as I thought.

My tried-and-true method of closing my eyes and going with my gut works way too well for me in this instance. I managed to find a beautiful room with fresh linens and my suitcases on the first try. Ignoring the sense of dread that coils in my stomach at the coincidence, I sit on the edge of the bed, kicking off my shoes. Wiggling my toes in the plush carpet distracts me from my hollow stomach until it yowls in displeasure.

I check through the contents of both bags before I’m satisfied. Sure, there was seemingly no one to bring these up, but a rogue panty thief could have been hiding out beside the loch, just waiting for me to leave these unattended. All panties safe and accounted for, I unpack my clothes and set them in the stunning hand-painted bureau. Of course the motif is wilderness, with little animals and flowers. The paint on the flowers and little forest animals is hardly chipped, and I find them charming.

My aunt must have painstakingly restored and kept up so much of this castle when it was under her care. I wish for a moment that I could have known her. Did she live here all alone? Did she have any pets? Did she have friends in town who I’ll have to meet and introduce myself to?

“Fuck me, that’ll be great.” I chuff. “‘Hey, I’m Charlotte Ryan. Yeah, oh, you were friends with my aunt? That’s great! Shedidn’t want me even after my parents died! Oh, why am I so bitter? Don’t know. Just inherited a castle and will be drip fed a fortune with the expectation of ‘finding myself.’” I hiss the words out to the fictitious busybody.

Nah, even if she didn’t want me, I can’t imagine my aunt would have been friends with someone like that. Besides, if Eloise is any indication, then people should be nice around here. Small town, everyone knows everyone, and I’m going to be the odd duck for a little while. Hopefully, just a little while and not for the rest of my life. That would suck ass.

Groaning, I scrub my hands roughly over my face. My whole body aches with phantom and not-so-phantom pains.

I miss my sister and I miss my parents and I miss being able to order delicious delivery pizza whenever I want.

I pull a small bag of flaxseed crackers I grabbed from the airline out of my bag and munch on them as I take in everything in the room. A wealth of details that cost a fortune are all around me—the lace curtains and fine rugs speak of riches and history I can’t comprehend. I feel like an impostor, even if this is all supposed to be mine.

It makes my chest a little less tight to think about calling Kennedy tomorrow and telling her about my trip here.

After finishing the last of my stashed snacks, I venture into the chilly hallway in search of a bathroom, poking at some doors closest to this room. Each door is highlighted by wide beams of moonlight that filter through the intricate metal patterns over the windows, like side quests await me beyond the threshold. Bedroom after bedroom after bedroom, until I encounter the first locked door. A noise of confusion and displeasure rises in my throat, but I choke it down. I have keys to every door, but, of course, I left them in my new room.

“I swear if you aren’t a bathroom with a soaking tub, I’m going to be so upset when I finally get you open,” I growl at the door before turning and stalking down the hall.

I check five more doors, three more being locked, before I find the bathroom I’ve been searching for.

Modern fixtures greet me, illuminated by the moonlight through yet another decorative window. Bright white and gleaming gold marble on the floor and trendy white subway tiles on the walls all feel like decoration whiplash compared to the antique furnishings and carpets filling the castle. There is both a clawfoot tub that looks big enough to house two or three giants at the same time and a rain shower with…one, two, three, four showerheads.

I float over and turn on the water, glad it comes out nearly steaming. I shuck off my clothes, glad to rid myself of the past ten-ish hours, and step under the blissfully hot spray.

“That’s the stuff,” I moan, eyes falling shut.

I run my hands over all my curves, rubbing my hands over my breasts and waist, but especially into the place on my hips where the seams of my panties were digging in painfully. I need to skip the thongs when it comes to traveling next time. You live and learn.

The water pressure and heat are just too good. I stand under the various sprays, whimpering as my muscles are massaged. It’s almost erotic how damn good it feels after hours of nothing but recycled air on the plane and then a slightly damp drive here.

“I’m going to live right here. Loch witch of the castle, lady of the clawfoot tub, shall be my name,” I mumble with a snort of laughter.

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