Page 9 of Who Owns You?

When I slip it into the lock, there’s a sudden, sharp whistle of wind. It whips around, yanking at my hair and sending it wildly into my face. I sputter as I turn the key, the lock sliding open with a squeal of effort that sends a chill to my bones. Once I hear the clunk of the mechanism opening, I push the gate open with one hand and pry the dastardly strands from my mouth and eyes.

“Great, perfect first impression,” I huff to no one in particular.

Michael told me someone should be here to greet me, but he never told me who, just that they weren’t a relative. My aunt had been the last of those on either side, so I was out of luck.

I drag my suitcases down the driveway, the hefty cases bucking up as they roll over the bumpy stones and slip between the cracks. My shoulders ache so badly that I’m pretty sure I must have at least partially dislocated one by the time I make it to the grand double doors. Big wrought iron knockers rest on each door, circular with ornamental twists that still somehow feel outstandingly plain for what I expected of a castle. The pairof them stare at me like a judgy local before I grasp one and knock as hard as I can.

The force of my pounding reverberates through me and makes my shoulders twinge. I hiss and drop the knocker. Grabbing my left shoulder, I do my best to work out the pulsing pain, rolling it forward and backward until the joint feels more like it should.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” I sigh, my eyes fluttering shut. The relief brought on is too great not to praise.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, dear,” a soft voice says with a laugh, shocking me out of the moment of peace.

A woman with silver hair and cornflower-blue eyes smiles at me. She’s wearing a simple knit sweater and jeans and emits an aura of kindness that puts me at ease. How someone can look so put together at this god-awful hour is a wonder.

I know I look like a hot mess express, to put it nicely. There’s no way in the world that after an eight-hour flight and my world being turned upside down I could manage anything else.

I offer her a sorry half smile.

“Sorry, I was— My shoulder—” I ramble.

She chuckles, the sound warm and comforting like a hug, and lifts a hand to stop me.

“You don’t need to explain yourself. You’re the mistress of the castle now. That means you could go about howling like a dog at the moon if it pleases you,” she says sweetly, a hint of humor lacing her voice. “Though I would ask that you didn’t. Most in town tend to tuck in early since there is a good bit of farmland and the winery opens early for work.”

“Right, no howling,” I mumble lamely. “I’m Charlotte Ryan.”

“Oh dear, where are my manners? Good to meet you, Charlotte. Come in. My name is Eloise Ansbro; I run a little bookshop in town and agreed to be at the castle when youarrived. Mr. Anderson insisted there be someone here whenever you should arrive.”

“Bookshop?” I perk up at the prospect of a new place to find good things to read.

She moves to the side, and I grab my suitcases again.

“Just leave those there for a moment, and they’ll be handled. Come sit with me and chat for a while. You must feel awfully overwhelmed.”

“It’s like you’re reading my mind,” I say with a nervous laugh.

Shelookshuman, but I don’t entirely know if she is. From what I’ve read about Irish folklore on the ride from the airport to here, there are a lot of creatures around these parts that could look human.

“Not one of my specialties.” She winks, sweeping me from the entryway up a small flight of stairs and into a sitting room already warmed by a crackling fire. To my surprise, the room is fully furnished in an eclectic mismatch of styles. A well-loved solid wood desk sits across the room, and a large plush rug the color of mulled wine covers most of the floor. Four different chairs are arranged in front of the fireplace. I settle into the leather wing-back chair and set my arms on the rests. I can’t fight the giggle that rolls out of my mouth.

I feel like a supervillain. I’m only missing the fluffy white cat.

“So, tell me about yourself, Charlotte.” Eloise takes the ultra-cushy Chesterfield chair that almost swallows her entire small stature as she sits.

“Not much to tell.”

“That can’t be true.” She scolds me.

“But it is. I mean, I got fired the same day I found out about my aunt’s passing. I didn’t know about her, by the way. I don’t know anything about my parents’ families. I don’t even know if she was my mother’s sister or my father’s sister.” The words come rushing out like wine from a cask with the plug pulled.“I never expected to find anyone who would want to claim me besides my best friend and her parents. They took me in when my parents passed.”

The corners of Eloise’s eyes crinkle thoughtfully. She nods for me to go on, and the words keep coming.

“And now, there’s this castle and all my aunt’s money, which is more than I’ve seen in my entire life, and this town and?—”

“Take a breath, Charlotte. I’m not going anywhere,” Eloise assures me.

“I suppose not. I didn’t get the keys to the castle yet,” I say, the exhaustion taking all the sting from my words.

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