Page 7 of Marked By Moonlight
I looked back up at the empty stairway. Brussels, maybe?
Then again, that can could have been resold anywhere in Europe.
I stood, lost and confused, for another few minutes. Then I peered outside, willing another car to come down the drive. Marius would hop out, throw his arms around me, and everything would be all right again.
But there was no car. No Marius. No explanation. Just the vast, echoing space of the front hall.
I trudged toward the kitchen, then veered off to my apartment in the east wing, unable to face Madame Picard. She was busy preparing dinner for five, not four, but not busy enough to hold back from a barrage of questions I couldn’t answer.
Once in my apartment, I went straight to a window and stared at the driveway while my emotions churned.
I didn’t have Marius’s number, because I’d never needed it, with him living at the château. I’d learned to live with radio silence whenever he was on a mission for Gordon, but his latest mission was over now. So where the hell was he?
Celeste jumped into my mind. Was his succubus ex somehow involved in this?
The thought made me sick, but what could I do?
Get much-needed work done instead of sitting around fretting,I chided myself.
I detoured to the mini fridge in my apartment, broke off a chunk of dark chocolate, and headed for the door. Then I stopped, turned back, and grabbed another chunk. I was in the midst of an emotional crisis, and I deserved it, dammit!
Then I headed for the upper level of the opposite wing of the château — the rooms corresponding to mine, where my guests lived. I’d originally assigned them rooms on the ground floor, but Marius had immediately moved to the upper floor, while Henrik had moved in to the attic. I’d been furious at the time, but that was before… Well, before Marius and I had…
I trailed off there, trying to fill in that blank. Before he and I had fallen in love, or before he and I had started our ill-fated affair?
In any case, my latest renovation project focused on the four upstairs rooms in their west wing, because the plan was to rent out accommodations in addition to hosting weddings and other events someday.
I snorted under my breath. High-paying,humanguests, I hoped, not temptingly dangerous dragon shifters who messed with my heart.
Work was the last thing I felt like doing, but the château wouldn’t renovate itself, so I pulled on my work overalls, headed to the west wing, and started scraping paint from a window frame. My focus was only half there, however. The rest had mepeeking around the room, spying the few possessions Marius had left behind. Wondering. Wishing.
But there were no love letters revealing a secret affair, no map pinned with locations of murders to investigate — or carry out. No duffel bag full of weapons, and certainly no album of childhood memories to give me some insight into the man I loved.
Time dragged. The shadows of the forest that fringed the château stretched and crept across the lawn. Roux and Henrik paced outside, deep in conversation. I watched them from the corner of my eye then checked the clock. Five p.m.
I worked straight through till six, though my mind spun with conspiracy theories the whole time. Habit drove me to shower and into the dining room for dinner afterward. A decision I regretted the instant I walked through the door.
Roux, Bene, and Henrik were there, and Marius’s absence loomed large. They stood silently by the windows, and the atmosphere was very much that of a wake. My heart hammered. No one was dead, right?
“Any news?” I asked, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
Roux shook his head grimly.
My phone pinged, and they all tensed. I fumbled in my haste to answer, then grimaced.
“Oh hello, Gordon. How are you?”
All three men paled. Even Henrik, who looked more ghostly than usual.
Gordon responded with the usual pleasantries, but I could sense an undertone to his words.
“Yes, all’s well here, thank you. I got a lot of work done on the west wing. You should come visit and see the progress for yourself.”
Roux’s eyes went wide, and Bene made a cutting motion with his arms.
I turned the screws a little tighter, watching the men as I spoke into the phone. “Maybe next weekend?”
Roux joined Bene in making franticstopgestures.
