Their Pretty Little Stepmom

Chapter two

"Jeffrey," Bardulf said, his voice a low warning.

"He’s right, though," Kael added, stepping forward. He walked a slow circle around Sarah, his shoes clicking on the stone. "She’s a child. She looks like she’d break if the wind blew too hard. Is this what you’re into now, Dad? Buying girls Riven’s age?"

Riven didn't say anything. He just stared at Sarah, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists in his pockets.

"Sarah is my wife," Bardulf said, and the sheer weight of his tone silenced them. "She is the mistress of this house. You will treat her as such."

That's like the many words Sarah has heard from him since she met him.

He turned to Sarah, his hand dropping from her back. "Kael will show you to your suite. I have a call with Tokyo."

"Wait.." Sarah reached out, her fingers brushing the sleeve of his coat. "You’re leaving me?"

Bardulf looked down at her hand. For a split second, Sarah thought she saw a flash of something in his eyes, a flicker of heat, of hunger, but it was gone before she could name it.

"I have work," he said simply. He turned and walked into the house, his shadow stretching long and dark across the foyer.

Sarah stood alone on the steps, surrounded by three men who looked at her with a hunger that wasn't holy.

"Well, Step-mommy," Jeff said, stepping into her personal space. He reached out and tugged on a strand of her hair, his eyes dark with malice. "Welcome to the family. Hope you don't mind getting burned."

"Leave her alone, Jeff," Riven snapped, though his voice didn't sound kind. It sounded disgusted. He looked at Sarah, his gaze lingering on her trembling lips.

"Leaving her alone isn't even a given in this house," Kael said, his voice dropping into a register that made the hair on Sarah’s arms stand up. He sized her up, his eyes traveling from the hem of her white dress to the pulse fluttering in her throat. He gave a weary, bored sigh. "You are going to follow me. I need to show you around the house as the new wife."

Kael didn't wait for her to agree. He turned on his heel, his expensive loafers clicking sharply against the granite steps. Sarah cast one last, desperate look toward the foyer where Bardulf had vanished, but the shadows had swallowed him whole. With a trembling breath, she lifted the heavy skirts of her gown and hurried after the eldest son.

"Keep up," Kael called over his shoulder. "The Voidmere estate spans twenty thousand square feet. If you get lost, don't expect a search party."

They entered the Grand Hall, a space so cavernous it felt like the belly of a cathedral. The walls were lined with portraits of men who shared Bardulf’s severe brow and iron-grey eyes.

"This is the Primary Study," Kael said, gesturing toward a pair of towering mahogany doors. "Father’s inner sanctum. Unless you’re invited, you don't breathe near those doors. He doesn't like interruptions, especially from... distractions."

This came with a heavy warning touching his brows that Sarah had to swallow.

They moved through a corridor lined with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the jagged cliffs. "The West Conservatory," he noted, pointing to a glass-domed room filled with exotic, sharp-leafed plants that looked more like weapons than flora. "And across from it, the Gallery. It holds the collection of the previous Mrs. Voidmeres’ favorite art. Father keeps them there as trophies of his conquests."

Sarah felt a chill. Conquests. Not wives.

They climbed a sweeping marble staircase that led to the Music Room, where a grand piano sat draped in a black cloth like a coffin. Kael led her past the Billiard Room, the Private Cinema, and a Library that smelled of old parchment and cold tobacco. Each room was more beautiful and more terrifying than the last, devoid of any personal touch, no family photos, no stray shoes, no life.

"The East Wing is off-limits," Kael said, his voice hardening as they passed a heavy velvet curtain. "That’s where Elara stays when she... visits. I’d suggest you don't wander there. She doesn't take kindly to trespassers on her turf."

Elara? Rang in Sarah's head and she tried to process the name and who she was.

"She's my father's current ex-wife. The one after his mind and soul." He said, " Don't be jealous..." He added as if that piece of information was supposed to get to her in the first place.

Kael stopped so abruptly she nearly collided with his back. He turned, a slow, cruel smirk spreading across his face. "You’re his current wife, Sarah. There’s a chronological difference. Don't confuse a title with a permanent position."

But she wasn't even complaining. She didn't even ask if she was valued as the wife or not. At this moment, she's trying as much as possible to digest everything as it's happening so fast that she almost can't keep up.

Whether she was a temporary or a permanent wife, all she thinks she would pray for is that Bardulf shouldn't kill her. If the rumours are true, then she'd better pray as much as possible that she doesn't get on his bad side so he doesn't hit her.

He continued the tour, leading her down a service staircase that felt significantly colder. The opulence of the upper floors faded into the functional, industrial aesthetic of the lower levels.

"The Wine Cellar is through that iron gate," he said, pointing to a dark, descending staircase. "Five thousand bottles. Most of them older than you."

Finally, they reached a set of double swinging doors made of brushed stainless steel. Kael pushed them open with a flourish, and the sudden warmth of industrial ovens hit Sarah’s face.

The Kitchen was a sea of chrome and white tile, smelling of rosemary and roasted garlic. At the center island stood a woman in a crisp white uniform, beautiful, sexy, almost passing for a model. There's no way the boys won't have anything to do with this woman...Sarah thought freely until she felt a s***k lash across the surface of the cook's butt and she moaned like a pig.

Disgusting...

"Mrs. Gable," Kael announced, his voice regaining its arrogant lilt.

She looked up but she didn't smile. She assessed her like she was someone who should be ejected as much as she was infused into this Manor.

"The new one?" Mrs. Gable asked, her voice like sandpaper.

"The new one," Kael confirmed. "The Fourth Mrs. Voidmere. Sarah, this is the only person in this house you should actually fear. If she doesn't like you, you’ll find your tea tasting of arsenic and your soup full of salt."

Sarah swallowed hard. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Gable."

The cook didn't respond. She turned back to the duck, the blade thudding into the wood of the cutting board. "Welcome to the house new mistress."

New mistress sounded like warm water on ice. Just too warm that it can't melt the ice neither will it get cold. Sarah, is this going to be your life at the Voidmeres’? This and she was supposed to be a mom to these grown men?

"We have a lot of work to do this period..." She heard him moan over the cook's neck, "Especially getting to know our new mom and accommodating her."

Kael chuckled, trailing his hands over the cook's back as she vibrated with need immediately. Sarah had to watch as the cook squirmed into his hands like a little kid, the corner of her eyes at her.

After what seemed like a decade, Kael finally stood in front of a large space, "And this is going to be your room and my father's." He said, whisking his hand a little too low to touch her jaw.

Sarah sucked in a breath. Finding anywhere to look but at him.

"At least, you're pretty." He murmured.