Page 1 of The House Guest
CHAPTER 1
“Dorian is coming. I’d recommend clearing your paintings from the living room before he gets here.”
“What?” My stomach sank. “When?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but it’s likely to be soon.”
“Crap.” I looked around at my many large canvases. “Thanks for the heads up. This place has been like a ghost town for weeks. I guess I hoped the quiet would continue for a little while longer.”
Patsy hung her head. “It was only a matter of time.”
I clasped my hands together. “Do you think he’s gonna kick me out?”
“I can’t say.” She shook her head. “Not sure if he’s going to keep any of us around, or if he plans to live here or sell the place. We haven’t been given much information.”
I immediately felt foolish. Here I was, worried about whether I could continue to freeload off my poor dead aunt, and the staff here had to fear for their livelihoods.
“Well, let’s hope he has a heart.” I sighed. “You and Benjamin have been nothing but wonderful through all of this, and I would hate to see you out of a job.”
“You’ve been a light in our lives, Primrose. If only this house was yours now, and we worked for you. Then I’d know we wouldn’t have to worry.”
Six short months ago, I’d moved in here after my aunt Christina had offered to let me stay with her and her billionaire husband, Remington Vanderbilt, while I enrolled in an art program. School was only a short drive from their wealthy community of Orion Coast, which was right on the Pacific Ocean in California. But I was still putting myself through school—I’d insisted on it despite my aunt’s offer to help. Instead, I waited tables and lived off my savings.
But the opportunity to live in this mansion had been a dream. I had my own spacious bedroom and full use of the amenities. Christina and Remington had quite the social life, so I almost never saw them, making it easy some days to pretend the entire place was mine. My aunt would check in with me from time to time, but she gave me space. I greatly appreciated her providing me with a safe place to call home while I explored my passion: art. Christina knew I needed her support after my mother, her only sibling, had died a few years ago. My mother’s death had left me alone, since from day one, my father had never been in the picture. And now with Aunt Christina gone, I felt more alone than ever.
Five months of stability here. That was all I’d had before the unthinkable happened.
Remington and Christina had taken their private jet to meet some friends in Hawaii. But they’d never madeit home. There had been a carbon monoxide leak at the villa they’d rented. They simply went to bed one night and never woke up. The twisted part was, I’d learned the news from the Internet before hearing it from anyone else.
A month had passed since the incident now, and it was still a shock. Their home had become an eerie relic of what once was, everything still in its place, aside from the people it belonged to.
It felt like I’d been getting away with something as I continued to live here. Were it not for the handful of staff who kept things operational, I would’ve felt a lot like Kevin McCallister inHome Alone.
For now, I’d managed my grief by converting the main living area into an art workshop. It had the best lighting in the house, and I’d needed the space for my latest project. Since no one was living here but me, I didn’t see the harm. The staff had encouraged it. But I’d always known it was only a matter of time until someone came in and took back this place. And it seemed thatsomeonewas Dorian Vanderbilt. Rightfully so.
Remington’s only son had long been a mystery to me. I didn’t know much about Dorian aside from the fact that he wasn’t all that much older than me, maybe five or six years, which would make him twenty-eight or twenty-nine. From what Christina had told me, he was an only child and had moved to Boston several years ago. With Remington Vanderbilt’s parents dead and no other siblings, Dorian was the last Vanderbilt left and the sole heir to his father’s fortune. Remington’s first wife, Dorian’s mother, had died when Dorian was younger.
The housekeeper, Patsy, had started cleaning around me in the living room when I finally asked, “He gave you no clue at all as to when he’s arriving?”
She shook her head. “I heard Benjamin talking to him on the phone. After he got off the call, I asked if he’d gotten details, and he said Dorian didn’t give an exact time.” She looked over at the grandfather clock. “It’s late tonight. So my guess is sometime tomorrow or the next day. I prepared the bedrooms in any case. Not sure where he plans to sleep.”
I swallowed. “Okay. Well…I’m gonna assume we’re in the clear for now and put the final touches on my last painting before I clear them out in the morning.”
“I’ll miss looking at them.” She grinned. “They make me smile.”
“Maybe I’ll gift you one, if I can’t sell them.” I winked.
Patsy finished her dusting and left me alone to handle my business.
I’d have to pull an all-nighter. I didn’t have classes tomorrow, so I could catch up on sleep during the day. I looked around at my twelve paintings on various easels and sighed. Time to get to work. The clock was ticking.
A couple of hours later, it had to be close to midnight. The staff had gone, and I had paint all over me, my hair tied back in two pigtails.
When I heard footsteps on the marble floor behind me, I assumed it was Benjamin, the butler, who lived in a guest house just off the main property.
But then a gruff voice I didn’t recognize jarred me.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked.
