“I mean, I guess, but like, isn’t he kinda a nobody in his family? I thought there were only three VanMarche sons.”
“Well, there arenow.”
I was genuinely surprised at the amount of vitriol that rose up in me at their words. What was with people forgetting about Paul? While I knew I was biased, I couldn’t help but think that he was really the best of the brothers. Between Chris’s uptightness and obsession with becoming the alpha that had backfired on him, and Jackson clearly choosing to self-medicate rather than addressing the trauma that so clearly hurt him, Paul was an utter delight!
I held my tongue, however, and ducked in through another door that turned out to be a supply closet. It was actually kind of a relief not to be in another overwrought room, and I waited until the daughters exited my hearing range, and then a little more. Just because my oracle ears couldn’t pick up the sound of their footsteps didn’t mean their shifter ones couldn’t pick upmine.
Once I was as sure as I could be that the coast was clear, I headed up the exact staircase they descended, figuring that going to a more-used part of the house would get me more results. And almost immediately, I could see way more emotional imprints floating through the air and lingering around objects.
Okay, I think I’m definitely on the right path.
However, I was all too aware of the fact that being closer to where the Chevaliers hung out made it much more likely that I’d be spotted, whether by them or their staff. So, I needed to be extra careful and try to spread out my mind to sense if any new and fresh emotions were approaching me. I wasn’t very good atthat, but I knew it was possible from a summer camp I’d gone to as a teen where we played a game ironically calledassassins.We had to sneak up on other players and tag them out by ripping a colorful piece of fabric off their belt.
The first door led to another sitting area and lounge, and I couldn’t help but wonder how many living-room spaces a single family needed. Even with so many kids, relations, and the like, surely three was over-kill?
Or maybe I just didn’t have enough guests or parties in my life. Something to work on.
Having guests means cleaning and keeping a tidy house, as well as a lot of planning and organization to make sure everything goes off without a hitch.
Ew. Fuck that.
The second room was a personal gym, and just like the first-floor study, it was almost completely devoid of any emotion colors. Looked like no one had used it in a while. If I was a little less of character and a little stronger of bicep, I might have slipped a couple of the cute, lavender dumbbells in my purse.
Oh well.
The third room was what I guessed was a tearoom, only marginally different from a sitting room, which was only marginally different from a living room. There were more emotional markers, but they ranged from bored, to relaxed, to condescending, and none of those were really indicative of a murder or someone thinking about hiring an assassin. Still, I snooped around and predictably didn’t end up with anything.
The fourth room was a laundry room, andfinallyI had a room that was rife with emotions! There was frustration, anger, a little bit of hate to spice, excitement. There was that boredom again, but colored and shaped differently than the previous room, a whole gamut. Excitement bubbled up in me before Irealized that alaundryroom was likely more where servants hung out than the actual Chevaliers.
Damn.
I quickly hurried away from that, but as I did, I heard footsteps approaching. As luck would have it, there wasn’t a doorway I could duck into quickly—especially with so much shifter hearing around—so I pulled a small compact and my lip gloss from my purse, aimlessly striding forward while I primped myself.
And just in time too, because the figure rounded the corner.
“Excusi, I do not believe you are meant to be here, no?”
I looked up in surprise, dropping my contact for good measure. “Huh? Oh! You just snuck up out of nowhere, now, didn’t you?” I said, pitching my tone between surprised and pleasant. “Just heading back from the ladies’ room. You know how it is when the ol—” I was about to use the whole period-poop excuse that never failed to make other people change the subject, but I realized if the woman in front of me was a shifter, she’d scent that I was lying. And once someone found me in a lie, it wasrealhard to ever win that trust back.
Except for with Paul, who was apparently an angel.
“—afternoon coffee kicks in,” I said, deciding to go back to my old excuse. The woman looked completely unruffled or uninterested, her face a polite mask, and I found my mouth talking faster than my brain.
Darn, and I was doing so good too!
“Do I know you?” I blurted without thinking. Not that it gave me away, but I was trying to becareful,and being careful didn’t mean just spouting off.
But the woman did indeed look familiar. I couldn’t say what it was about her dark hair and blue eyes, or her statuesque frame, I just?—
WAIT! The funeral!
I’d seen her in the line at the funeral! She’d been a few people behind the other two main families, but other than that, she hadn’t stuck out much. That was probably why I had such a hard time remembering her when I’d committed so much of that day to memory.
“You are a VanMarche staff member, yes?” she said so matter-of-factly that I was starting to feel likeIwas the one being duped. Not a good sign. “Perhaps you recognize me from the work I’ve done at their estate.”
“Oh, probably!” I said brightly. Because if Iwastruly a member of staff for Paul’s estate, I would know who she was. “I rarely leave my shoebox of an office, but you, uh… you…”
“I do special occasion culinary work for all three great houses.” The woman drew herself up, and it was clear that she was proud of herself. And honestly? Get it, sister! “My family has always supported all of the families, splitting our time equally amongst them to fit their needs.”