“Some are Born to sweet delight.
Some are Born to Endless Night.”
—William Blake
A low whistle sounds when I enter the dining room. Aubrey sits alone at the table, one leg crossed over the other and her red hair spilling down one shoulder. Her head tilts as she looks me up and down. “Going for a carefree look today, huh?”
“Sorry,” I mutter, ignoring the sting at my ankle as my burn flares to life. She pushes a full plate of food toward me once I sit beside her. “Woke up late.”
Her lips quirk. “I noticed. The other girls finished their breakfast almost twenty minutes ago.”
I push the scrambled eggs around my plate with a fork, Adam’s naked, dripping torso still taunting me. His white towel hung low on his hips, letting me glimpse the hard V-shape disappearing beneath it. I knew he was cut, I felt it yesterday when my palms were pressed against his chest, his abs. But that’s not the same as seeing it bare, watching the ripple of muscles tense across his body when he spotted me on his bed.
That alone sent a surge of warm satisfaction through me. And when my eyes dropped lower, it only confirmed that at least a part of him wanted me, too.
But then I’d looked back at his eyes. They were as cold as the room encasing us.
He claimed me.
He owns me.
So why doesn’t he take me?
“Big night?”
“Hmm?” I take a bite and glance at her, slowly remembering where I am.
She leans back against the seat, still watching me closely. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“I call it the Matthews Effect.”
I pause mid-chew, my eyebrows shooting up. “The what?”
“Happens to all of us.” She winks. “You’ll understand soon enough. Now hurry up. We’ve got a job to do.”
The Matthews Effect. Finishing my bite with a swallow, I think of Frankie.
Did she feel it, too?
“What’s this?”
“This,” Aubrey mutters over my shoulder, her eyes skimming the paper in my hands, “is a list of your daily duties.”
My brows furrow while I review the checklist. Dishes, sweeping, mopping, assisting with food prep and cleanup.
It’s all housework. And it’s all in the kitchen.
I blow out a breath and let my hands fall to my sides, still clutching the page. “Wow.”
“Problem?”
“Just . . . not exactly what I was expecting.”
Aubrey chuckles and starts walking past the ladies’ quarters, me following at her side. “Disappointed?”
“No.”
Maybe.
She glances sideways at me. “You don’t have to do that.” When I stare at her blankly, she adds, “Lie. There’s no one judging you here.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. I don’t think I’ve ever not had someone judge me. Every move I make, every word I say. Every piece I paint.
It was the same for Frankie, growing up with Mama, but it was different for her too. She had nothing to hide. No monsters in her head to keep quiet. Mama still scolded and punished her, even more than me once she realized there was no hope for my soul. But that was just for being a normal teenager—sneaking off to parties, hanging with boys. Things I never did. The noise, the trends, the forced small talk and smiles—I never could get used to it.
Instead, I would keep my head down, burying myself in books and school when I wasn’t painting. I graduated at the top of my class, secretly envisioning a future I knew I would never have—like going to college, finding a place I might fit in. But Mama wasn’t wrong about me. I know how deep my darkness stems, and I know I’ll never be free of it, no matter how far I run.
I was Frankie’s weird little sister, a loner—identities I still wear on my sleeve. I liked how effectively they kept people away. I was hot enough to get a one night stand when I needed one—when I went long enough without freeing my mind through art that I inevitably caved in on myself. But I was still weird enough that people otherwise left me alone.
Batshit Crazy Betsy was the rare exception. I think her nickname explains why we got along so well.
Frankie, on the other hand, she always fit in. She may have been restless and always searching for something more, but she was also born knowing exactly who she was.
Why would she have thought she needed a place like this?
“I have to say, though,” Aubrey murmurs, pulling me from my thoughts. “Your list has to be the most bland I’ve seen yet. Not to mention the most particular. They don’t usually keep us so limited to one area of the house.”
That gets my attention. “Really?” My footsteps slow, and I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “Did he tell you why mine’s different?”
“Who, Adam?” She looks at me and snorts. “No, and I didn’t ask. If one of the Matthews gives you something to do, you need to trust there’s a good reason for it. Always. Every relationship is built on trust, and the relationship between you and your master is going to be the most important relationship you will have for at least the next year of your life. Probably longer.”
Following her into a restaurant-sized kitchen, I fidget with the hem of my dress and think her words over. The next year of my life. I can’t believe it’s only been a little over two days since I signed the contract. So much has happened since then, and I tense just thinking about what else might be coming. When I first arrived, I thought I’d be able to pull this off in less than a week. That I’d be flying back home with Frankie in the seat beside me, safe and sound, by the weekend. At the very least, that I’d be able to reach her somehow by then.
Now, I’m not so sure.
I don’t even know where to take my search anymore. She’s clearly not here, in the mansion, or I would have seen or heard from her by now. Loud and bursting with energy, she’s one of the most outgoing people I know. There’s no way I’d be able to miss her.
Unless she left long ago.
Or something happened to her.
When Aubrey leads me through the kitchen and stops behind a long sink, I turn to her, trying to keep my tone neutral. “A year—that’s a pretty long time, right? I mean, to commit yourself to something—someone—that you know nothing about? What happens when people change their mind? What about those who want to break their contract?”
“What do you mean?” She frowns. “They leave. They’d be giving up their end of year bonus when they do, but whatever. Their call.”
“Just like that? It’s that easy?”
“Emma, the Matthews are busy men. They have businesses to run and all kinds of things to keep them on their toes. They just so happen to also have very particular tastes and preferences that few outside these walls would understand. So it’s Stella’s job to find those who do understand and who fit their tastes. It would be counterproductive for everyone to keep someone here against their will.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I rub my hands on my sleeves. If Frankie left here willingly, why hasn’t she contacted me? We’ve never gone this long without speaking. We promised each other we never would.
Aubrey takes a step toward me, squinting like she’s trying to figure me out. “What, did something happen? Are you reconsidering the terms of your contract?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not reconsidering anything. I just”—I clear my throat, trying to think up an excuse for my behavior—“it’s an adjustment, that’s all.”
She smirks. “Well, sure. I think anyone Adam Matthews claims would agree. I still can’t believe he claimed you.” Reaching beside the sink, she pulls out a bin filled with dirty dishes. She gestures to the side counter, which is piled with more plates and silverware. “All right, so I’m under clear orders to stay at your side until I’m told otherwise. Guess we’ll be double-teaming these.”
I glance from the dishes to Aubrey, who’s slipping on a pair of gloves. For some reason, I can’t picture her doing anything so mundane in this place. “So . . . is this what you do every day?”
Her lips quirk as she shakes her head. “No. Stella and I handle the Matthews’ business related needs.” Her eyes drift down to the list in my hand. “I’d get started if I were you. You’re done for the day only once everything on your checklist is complete, or when your master summons you. Oh, and”—she twists her lips as she takes in the state of my hair and minimal makeup—“I’ll let you finish the dishes first, but then we’re making a quick detour to the spa. Our masters are known for making unexpected calls. He could come for you at any time.”
Warmth flutters through my stomach at the thought, although the hard look in his eyes earlier makes me doubt he’d ever come for me.
I try to ignore the wave of disappointment that pours over me as I turn on the faucet. “So . . . you’ll be staying with me all day?”
“All day.”
I swallow, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to make any progress with her glued to my side.
This is far too convenient.
Something tells me Adam knows more than I realized.