Savage Pride

7

“That sounds about right,” I grumble. We put fresh sheets on the bed, replace the comforter and pillows, then survey the room for any other areas that need attention. Once satisfied with the room, we step across the hall to a more feminine bedroom overlooking the lake behind the house. After briefly losing myself in the view, I join Gia at the bed. We begin our process over again, but this time, when we unfold the new sheet, it’s obvious Laney has accidentally given us a king-sized set. “You run down and grab some queen sheets while I touch up the room,” Gia instructed. “The inside of these sconces look like they haven’t been dusted in ages.” She scowls at the decorative glass fixtures on either side of the arching headboard. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” I slip from the room and make my way down the long corridor to the grand stairwell in the center of the house. I take my time now that I’m alone, perusing each piece of artwork and refreshing my memory on the many wonders of the house. I have so many cherished memories of this place from my early years, though each leaves a bittersweet aftertaste when I think of how it all ended. I don’t dwell on those memories. In fact, I try not to think of them at all. Some things are better left in the past. I feel like a ghost passing silently down the halls of Hardwick. I conveniently chose to wear sneakers for my trip out of the city, which is a relief. Anything but rubber soles or the softest of Italian leather would resound throughout the marble entry. I am nearly silent in my descent of the stairs. On the ground level, I curve back behind the stairwell and toward the kitchen on the ground floor. I quickly grab two more stacks of sheets in the linen closet, both set on a shelf labeled queen. When I retrace my route back toward the stairs and the front of the house, the sound of voices carries down the hallway and slows my steps. Not just any voices. Zeno’s baritone rumble. Soundlessly, I inch forward until I am beneath the stairs, only a dozen feet or so from where Zeno is sending off Carter and Cora at the front door. My heart flutters up into my throat at the knowledge he wouldn’t want me here. That I am essentially spying on him. “Not an intrusion at all. I always appreciate a visit from you both.” He speaks with more warmth than I am used to hearing from him, which denotes a genuine affection—something I wasn’t sure he was capable of at this stage in his life. “I hope you know that we’re always here for you, Z. Reach out anytime.” Cora’s saccharine voice claws at my ears until my molars ache. Not an hour before, she had no patience for Gia and me but is now bending over backward for her fellow neighbor. “I appreciate that, Cora. I’m confident my staff has everything under control.” “Yes,” Carter agrees. “I saw Gia on our way in with her sister who lives in the city. They’re a lovely family. Always willing to step up and lend a hand.” Zeno clears his throat, and I strain to catch every word of what he might say about my family. About me. I am shamelessly eavesdropping, but I don’t care. Now that they are talking about us, I have to know what he’ll say. “Gia is certainly one of a kind. It’s a shame everyone isn’t as genuine and honorable.” Carter chuckles awkwardly. “Well, I can’t say that I know Luisa well, but in the few minutes we spoke, she seemed genuine enough.” “And that’s the problem,” Cora interjects. “You’re too easily taken in by a pretty face.” Zeno clears his throat to speak, and my heart rate kicks up at the prospect of him defending me. “I will say that she is less abrasive than some of the other members of her family. But they do their jobs well, and that’s all that matters.” Less abrasive. That’s the best he can say about me? My family has practically been a part of his for decades, yet he talks about us as if we were a necessary evil. His grief doesn’t give him the right to be hateful. Heat scorches up my neck and licks across my cheeks. My family may not be perfect, but his arrogance knows no bounds. At least my family doesn’t treat others like dirt simply because they have more or less money than us. What an arrogant … self-centered … ugh! Asshole. My anger and frustration muddle the words in my head. I have to take several deep breaths in order to compose myself. “Yes, well, perhaps we’ll have everyone over for dinner sometime this week.” The door creaks open as Carter continues. “I can imagine the circumstances have been difficult for the entire household.” “You’re a good man, Bishop,” Zeno says warmly. “Too good, if you ask me,” Cora adds wryly. Though it’s meant to tease, there is conviction behind the statement. She thinks her brother could use a touch of her callous nature. Carter clears his throat. “That’s a conversation for another day.” The sound of hands clasping reaches my ears. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow, Z. And don’t forget about my offer. I’m happy to help in any way.” “You have my word. You both take care, and I’ll see you at the funeral, if not before.” The Bishops say their parting goodbyes, and the door clicks shut. I should stay hidden. I should allow Zeno to return to whatever cave he’s been hiding in and ignore him, but I can’t. I’m too riled up to offer him leniency, even when his father has just died. It’s his own damn fault. He’s the one who packed the heavy baggage I’m lugging around. He’s the one who hurt me, and his comments have triggered my anger so thoroughly that it cannot be repressed. I tug tightly on the reins of my emotions as I stroll forward into the entry. I don’t want him to figure out that I was listening, but I need to strike back. I need to hold my ground and take a stand so he won’t think he can push me around while I’m here. For the briefest second, Zeno’s back is to me, his hand still clasping the doorknob. My eyes gobble the opportunity to sweep his tall, suited form from top to bottom, only snapping back up to his face when he slowly swivels in my direction. He is carved stone. Impervious. Untouchable. Breathtaking. Power wafts off him like mist drifting from the lake. I would be mesmerized by his ominous stature if the air about him wasn’t lightly tainted with disdain. Violent blue eyes slice through me with silent accusation. “What are you doing here?” All traces of the warmth with which he addressed the Bishops have disappeared. His voice is jagged ice scraping against my skin. “Helping my sister get the house ready.” I hold my chin high and hit him with a blast of confidence. I won’t let him think he can scare me off. “You didn’t mention you would be at the house.” “Is that a problem?” I challenge. His eyes flinch the tiniest bit. Almost imperceptibly.