The Ghost
966 Words
Emma froze. The red dot burned on her chest, over her heart. She did not move nor did she dare to breathe.
"Don't run, Emma." She heard his voice from the dark of the next balcony. The red dot vanished as a figure stepped out of the shadows, walking down the narrow stone ledge like it was nothing. It was Lewis holding a small black laser pointer, which he tossed once, and slid it into his pocket.
Emma gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "Are you insane? You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"It was a test." Lewis stepped onto her balcony. He looked down at the black glove on the stone floor, then back at her. "You didn't scream. You didn't drop to the floor. Most frightened women would panic, Emma."
"I was too scared to move," she lied, letting her voice shake. "What is that glove doing here?"
"I dropped it earlier, when I was checking the grounds." His voice had no apology in it. "I wanted to see how you handle a threat. To see if Marcus really broke you."
"And what did you learn, Mr. Carter? Am I broken enough for you?"
"You're strong." He walked closer, picked up the glove, and tucked it into his waistband. "That is good. The woman who lived in this room before you was not strong… and it destroyed her."
Emma's mind sharpened. A ghost. This was the piece the file never explained. "Who lived here before me?"
"Nobody you need to worry your little head about."
"If I am to be your wife tomorrow, I will need to know whose ghost is in this bed with me." Emma stepped closer, eyes locked on his. "Your grandfather said I smell of fear. If the council knew her, they will compare me to her.
His eyes went dark under the moon. "Her name was Clara."
"Did you love her?"
"I trusted her." His voice dropped low. "In our world, trust is worse than love. She was the daughter of a rival family. We thought marriage would bring peace. Instead, she opened the back gate for her father's men."
Emma widened her eyes. "Jesus! She tried to kill you?"
"She tried to kill my grandfather." His words came out cold. "I found her in his study, holding the safe combination. She looked at me with the same wide, innocent eyes you are using right now."
A cold feeling crawled up Emma's neck. "What happened to her?"
"She left the country. That is what the police report says." His face stayed blank. "In truth, she is at the bottom of the sea. My uncle Victor made sure of that."
"And you let him?"
"She was a traitor, Emma. In this house, traitors get no second chance." He stepped closer, close enough that she felt the heat off his shirt. His fingers brushed her neck, over her pulse.
"Your heart is racing."
"You are telling me stories about a dead wife on a dark balcony," she whispered, keeping her voice steady. "Of course it's racing."
"Is that the only reason?"
"What else would it be?"
He leaned down, his mouth near her ear. "I am wondering if you are truly a victim. Or if you are just a better actress than Clara was."
Emma did not pull back. Pulling back would look like guilt, so she lifted her chin instead, meeting his eyes with defiance. "If I were an actress, I would have asked for more money. If you don't trust me, open the gates and let me leave."
"I can't do that." His thumb trailed down to her collarbone. "We need each other. But remember this. If I ever learn you are lying to me, I won't hand you to Victor. I will deal with you myself."
"Are you threatening me?"
"No. I am only stating a fact." He stepped back, and cold air rushed into the space between them.
"Sleep now. The styling team comes at dawn. Tomorrow night, you will become a Carter."
He walked back across the terrace and disappeared into his room.
Emma stood on the balcony for a long time. She could feel the cold biting her skin. Finally, she went inside and locked the glass door. She stopped looking for her missing camera. Lewis was too sharp and too careful. She had to play this clean now.
She lay on the huge bed, staring at the ceiling, too tensed up to sleep. Every creak of the old house sounded like footsteps.
At first light, a sharp knock hit her door.
"Miss Stone?" It was Gina. "Mr. Carter wants you in the dressing room. The council is already arriving."
Emma got up, her body stiff from the long night. She opened the door. Gina stood there with a large black garment bag.
"Mr. Carter chose this himself." Gina unzipped the bag. Inside was a long emerald green gown with elegant sleeves. "He wants you downstairs in thirty minutes."
"Thank you, Gina." Emma took the dress.
"Oh, and Miss Stone." Gina paused at the door, a strange tight smile on her face. "Mr. Matteo found something outside your window this morning. He asked me to give it back to you."
Gina reached into her apron and opened her palm.
It was Emma's backup micro-camera. The casing was crushed. The memory card was snapped in half.
The blood left Emma's face. She looked up at Gina's cold, knowing eyes.
"Mr. Matteo said to tell you the reception is very poor on this side of the mountain," Gina said, her voice dropping low. "He also said he is looking forward to introducing you to the council's security chief tonight.
He used to work for the state police." She smiled. "Just like your friend Marcus.”
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