Page 14 of Before the Bond
The estate quieted as evening set in.
I spent the late afternoon on a second, more thorough assessment of Jake, adjusting my notes and getting a better feel for the household's rhythm. Dinner was in the kitchen — easy and unpretentious.
Maureen and I talked. She shared some anecdotes about staff life, and then she tidied things up. It was the most normal thing I had felt since arriving. The kitchen was clearly where people actually lived in this house. The formal dining room I'd walked past earlier had the quality of a room that was available but not used.
There was no sign of Donovan after our earlier exchange. And no sign at all of the head of the household. I realized no one mentioned his name earlier. I reminded myself to ask someone about him tomorrow.
After dinner, I moved through the ground floor to test if I remembered where everything was. The sitting room. The study with the tall shelves. The private library.
I found the hearth room off the main hallway — small, warm, two armchairs angled toward a fireplace, a small table, and shelves that held books alongside the kind of things people stop putting away. I stood in the doorway for a moment. Something about the room felt familiar. I didn’t know why.
I noticed a corner that Maureen and I didn’t pass by earlier. At the far end of the east hallway, past the main staircase, there was another corridor.
It was narrower than the others. The light was dim, one overhead fixture casting a warmth that barely reached the walls. The stone showed through the plaster in places — older than the rest of the house, or at least from a different phase of it. The corridor ran back toward the furthest part of the estate and ended at a door.
Heavy dark wood. Iron handle. It looked ancient.
I stood and looked at it for a moment, unaware that my feet had already carried me toward it.
I know I shouldn’t be snooping around, but another part of me believed there was no harm. It was just a door, after all.
I touched the handle. It felt cold under my palm. I gave it a tug. Locked.
Figures.
"What are you doing?"
I whirled around.
When I saw who stood at the end of the corridor, every part of my body froze.
A tall man with dark hair and broad shoulders stood at the opposite end of the corridor, in a dark henley shirt.
He wasn’t a stranger.
He looked like the man from my first night in Greyhollow.
Only now, his eyes were pale green.
Chapter 4
Olivia
The man with the pale green eyes continued to stare at me.
I realized my hand was still on the handle. I quickly let go.
“I… was just looking around.”
I braced for a scolding. If he was anything like Donovan, I was sure he wouldn’t be too happy with the fact I was poking around.
The man’s brow furrowed. He tilted his head slightly, and the corner of his mouth curved.
“It’s locked for a reason,” he said.
I flushed. Why did this feel worse than a scolding?
“Right.”
