Page 50 of Reign of the Queen
Just as Ruelle’s “Monsters” starts blaring from the speakers, Theo opens the driver’s side door carrying two takeaway coffee cups. He passes me a cup and raises an eyebrow at the loud music as he takes his seat.
I take the offered cup from him, wrapping my hands around its warmth. The rich coffee and sweet smell of caramel permeate through the lip of the cup. “Why?” I question him and indicate the cup with a nod.
He turns the music down. “You said you hadn’t had coffee yet.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his own cup. He turns to face me in his seat, watching how I’m holding the cup close to me. His full lips make a mockery of drinking out of that cup. Watching him take that sip makes my insides sizzle with heat, and my brain overloads with thoughts of what else that mouth could do.
“Why is it so hot in here?” He looks at his heat settings, turns the dial down, and looks at where I’m sitting with his seat warmer on.
“It’s fucking cold, Theo.” A look of annoyance crosses my features. I hate to be cold. Now that I can afford heat, I never go without blasting it wherever I go. To Raegan’s annoyance, it always feels like a furnace in my car and in my house.
He stares at me for a few moments, making me acutely aware of our close proximity in the car. Placing his cup in the cupholder, he puts his seatbelt back on and pulls out of the parking lot. We drive in the opposite direction heading to the eastern part of town, where all the large, affluent mansions are located.
After a few minutes of silent driving, we’re pulling up to a set of black wrought iron gates that automatically sense his car and open to a long driveway surrounded by landscaped flower beds and rolling expanses of manicured grass.The wealthy and their damn grass. I shake my head at the waste of water and space. I had my grandmother plant nothing but flowers and shrubs at my place to help the pollinators out.Gotta respect the working bees; they know what’s up.
My grip tightens on the cup. Why has he brought us to his house? While never having been here before, everyone knows where the Saint-Lambert mansion is. When I was a kid, I heard whispers of a dungeon located in the lower part of the house that looks like a castle from the exterior. Knowing Theo’s angry personality and hearing rumors about his dad, I wouldn’t doubt those fanciful tales.
Theo drives onto a circular driveway, a massive, ugly-ass water fountain with the Saint-Lambert crest at the center of it. He stops right in front of the main steps that lead to a large ornate wooden door.
“Why are we here?” I turn my body away from the view of the front door to see his expression. He looks pensive and unsure, glancing from my face to his front door.
“Do you trust me?” he asks me seriously, not even bothering to question how I know where “here” is.
“Not even an inch, Theo.” I shrug and take the last sip of the delicious caramel latte he got me, placing the empty cup in his cup holder; take that shithead.I know, I know I’m just being a spiteful bitch now.
“Smart girl.” He grins and gets out of the car, coming around to open my door. He grips my elbow, keeping me close to his body, and leads me up the front steps.
He swings the large, and apparently unlocked, door open and ushers me inside with his hand on my lower back. The entryway is an ample cold space of shiny, cream marble floors and dark wood paneling. A large crystal chandelier hangs from the upper story and is centered on the vast monstrosity of a wood and metal staircase that branches off from two upper landings.
We don’t stop at the first landing. Instead, Theo leads me quickly up the stairs and to the right. Nerves flutter in my stomach. What the hell am I doing here? This guy is dangerous to me. Why am I allowing him to lead me deeper into his home where he can murder my ass? If there are staff about, I can’t hear or see them.
I stop dead in my tracks halfway across the upper landing, causing Theo to step backward with the abrupt loss of my momentum. “Theo, why are we here?”
“You afraid, little queen?” He’s just baiting me with his words. He steps back until we stand one in front of the other. His hand reaches out to my hair and tucks a loose strand from my messy bun behind my ear. Leaning forward, he lowers his head from his towering height and pecks me softly on the lips. He grabs my hand and tugs me along up the rest of the landing. My stupid reckless ass allowing it.This is how girls get murdered in all the horror films Mia, you dumb ass, my brain screams at me.
Reaching the end of the hall, two large, dark wood double doors greet us. Theo takes his phone from his pocket and taps it against the door which in turn makes a beeping noise, indicating the door is now unlocked. I raise my surprised eyes to his face. His features give nothing away, his cold statue mask firmly in place.Why is his door locked electronically? That seems like overkill.
Morbid curiosity fills me. Who’s he trying to keep out? Or, more importantly, is he trying to keep something hidden inside?
I step through the door to find his room hidden in shadows. The curtains are closed, keeping any sunlight from penetrating the gloomy, dark space. Still holding on to my hand in his tight grasp, like he knows at any moment I may turn and bolt from the room. He turns and hits the light switch, illuminating the space.
The room comes into view and consists of a large sleeping section, a large dark wood desk and chair, and a separate area for sitting and lounging. The room is decorated in hunter greens, grays, and browns. A dark wood king bed frame takes up the majority of the sleeping area. His linens are all in various shades of dark gray accented in green. There’s a plush and soft light gray area rug below the bed and a matching one in the sitting lounge.
A massive television screen is attached to the wall opposite the sleek gray leather sofa. A variety of gaming consoles are mounted to the shelves below it. It’s the only evidence someone in high school inhabits the space.
The room looks sophisticated, moody, and far older than you would picture for a nineteen-year-old guy. There’s not a single piece of art adorning the light gray walls, and from my angle at the doorway, I can only see a few framed photographs on the furniture surfaces.
Theo pulls us into the room and closes the door firmly behind us. The same beeping noise indicates the door has locked. Yanking my hand from his grasp, I move to the door, turning the handle. My heart rate immediately accelerates, and panic sets in at the thought that he’s just locked us in the space.
“Relax, it’s only locked from the outside; you can still get out. I’m not planning on holding you hostage here.” He lets out a deep chuckle, obviously finding my distress amusing.Asshole.
I try the handle anyways, not taking him at his word, and it turns easily. Weird that he has a door that automatically prevents anyone from coming inside.Who’s he trying to keep out?
He beckons me with an outstretched hand to come with him into the sitting area. As I move forward in the room, I notice sketched drawings on various surfaces, all completed in what looks like charcoal or pencil. Picking up the closest one to me, I see it’s a drawing of a bird, a Sparrow, I believe. The details captured are realistic, and the pencil work is impressive.
“Did you sketch these?” I pick up another one, this one is a squirrel climbing a branch.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I don’t sleep very much, and I like to draw when I’m bored.”
I reach over, picking up another sketch, this one is of Mateo. Theo has captured his likeness perfectly on paper. The sketch is so detailed that I can feel the emotion that Mateo must have felt at the time—sadness. Theo captured his inner sadness, it’s there in the depth of his eyes, in the lines around his mouth and the way his face is turned. Like he didn’t know he was being watched, the emotion he hides bleeding out of his eyes. My heart squeezes painfully seeing that emotion captured. The sadness speaks to me, calling out to my soul and making me want to comfort the Mateo in the sketch and just maybe…the artist, too.
