Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 41105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
To my disappointment, Ryder didn’t pick me up himself. He sent for me instead. No explanation. No greeting.
“This is the guest quarters Mr. Rochester has allotted for you,” Gunnar says, gesturing for me to step inside a pristine suite drenched in moonlit whites and silvers.
I follow him in, taking in the opulence—ceilings that stretch like cathedral spires, balcony doors framed in etched glass, and walls adorned with abstract metallic art. The faint aroma of eucalyptus clings to the air like a perfume meant to calm… or to mask something colder beneath the surface.
“Is this just for nights when I’m working late or something?” I ask, turning toward him. “Because I already have a place.”
“The bathroom suite is connected through that door on your left.” He’s allergic to questions, too. “All three of this room’s windows have a balcony landing.”
I walk over to one and step out, letting Seattle’s wind kiss my skin. The grounds below are stunning—rolling green hills, reflective koi ponds, and garden hedges sculpted like art installations. It’s beautiful. Curated. A kingdom with invisible walls.
Looking over my shoulder at the bed, I feel the sudden urge to ask for a short hour break, to steal a nap.
“I’ll show you the lower level now, Miss Jane.” Gunnar gestures for me to follow. “This is the most important part of the estate.”
I bite my lip and follow him down the main marble steps and into a narrow corridor that grows cooler with each step.
As we descend, the lights on the baseboards glow softly, casting faint halos on the floor. The faint scent of burnt wood begins to infiltrate my nose.
On my left, stacks of charred furniture and blistered picture frames stand behind a velvet rope like relics in a museum. A blackened chandelier hangs overhead, its glass arms curled inward like scorched fingers.
Then he stops in front of what appears to be a wine wall—sleek, polished, and absurdly tall. The bottles are arranged in immaculate rows, backlit in red.
“This is the safe room,” he says, lifting my right hand and pressing it against a keypad.
“Access now granted…” a voice says from a hidden speaker, and the wall parts smoothly, revealing a replica of Ryder’s parlor room upstairs.
“Should anything happen while you’re working here, use this room.”
I nod, waiting for him to usher me inside, but he doesn’t. He types a code into the keypad, and the wine wall seals shut behind itself like nothing ever moved.
“That’s the only reason to ever venture down here.” He continues down the hall. “The rest of this space is off-limits.”
The burnt scent sharpens with every step, sinking deeper into my throat. I stall when a glimpse of something beautiful catches my eye—an untouched dining room on the right.
Guarded by another velvet rope, the space is covered in a thin layer of dust, but it’s breathtaking. Plush cream chairs surround a long, dark-wood table, and framed bronze portraits line the wall like sentinels.
I squint to see the photo in the first frame, and… it’s literally a photo of this very dining room.
“Was this room not damaged in the fire?” I ask. “It looks perfectly intact.”
Gunnar immediately stops walking and glances over his shoulder.
As if he’s annoyed that I’ve lagged behind, he strides back toward me, but when his eyes settle on the room, something shifts. He swallows hard.
Without answering, he pulls on a cord above the entryway, releasing a set of blackout drapes that fall over the entrance with a heavy whoosh.
“Please stay on track with me, Miss Jane,” he says. “Mr. Rochester insisted that we cover the entire estate as quickly as possible.”
It takes two hours and sixteen seconds for Gunnar to finish escorting me through the estate grounds. We pass reflecting pools, a solarium framed in black steel, and a sculpture garden that looks like it belongs in a European museum. But it all blurs together in a haze of awe and discomfort.
When we return to the main house, he hands me a key and leads me to Ryder’s office.
“We’ve returned, sir,” he says, walking away from me without another word.
Ryder rises from his desk, walking over to me.
“How was the tour?”
“Overwhelming.”
“No questions about why I insisted on that, or why you’re here?”
Tons. “Not right now.”
“I’m stunned.” He smiles, tracing my lips with his thumb. “I need your help with Adeline until I send her back to London in four to six weeks. She’s… not quite ready to go back, and I’d rather try to get her on some type of routine here before she has to leave.”
I nod, unsure of what that ‘help’ entails.
“She can never leave this estate, unless I’m with her, and that won’t be happening since I have a couple of business trips to make,” he says. “Everything she needs comes to her, and I have a list of people who will come and go to handle things on her behalf, but Gunnar will help with that.”