The Boss (Chateau 3)

I waited for Fender to leave and retrieve my sister.

It never happened.

I trusted his word. I knew it would happen.

I just wanted it to happen now.

Fender had left early that morning and hadn’t returned. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going, not even Gilbert, and I knew better than to ask. If he departed for the camp, he would tell me, so that meant he was doing something in the city.

I explored the house again, examining the paintings in bedrooms on floors that no one ever frequented except for Gilbert and the housekeepers. I made my way to a large room with hardwood floors and mirrors on one wall. Exercise equipment was spaced out everywhere, heavy weight plates on the floor and dumbbells in the corner. Everything was big and heavy, so this must be where Fender did his workouts. He must have done it early in the morning before I woke up

I went downstairs for lunch and took a seat at the dining table in the garden room even though I wasn’t hungry. There was just nothing else to do, not when Fender wasn’t home. When I saw him in his office, he didn’t usually talk to me, and I didn’t understand his phone calls in French, but it was still comforting to be near him.

I didn’t want him to leave me here alone.

But when he returned, he would have Raven.

And I could see her all I wanted.

“Everything alright, Melanie?” Gilbert carried the teapot and filled my teacup. “Your eyes are sad.” The steam immediately rose from the cup, a translucent white color that filled the room with the smell of peach. He set the teapot on the surface in front of my lunch.

My elbows were on the table, and my chin was propped on my closed hand, ignoring the table manners I should exhibit. When he didn’t scold me, I knew he was cutting me some slack because of my somberness. “Fender said he would retrieve my sister from the camp, but that was days ago, and he still hasn’t gone…”

Gilbert positioned his arms behind his back as he stood at the head of the table, dressed immaculately in his tuxedo, a slight shadow on his jawline. “You’re worried he won’t keep his word?”

“No. I just… The wait is killing me.”

“Well, her quarters have been prepared. He asked me to oversee the project. Perhaps that will make you feel better.”

My hand dropped from my chin, and I straightened. “He did?”

He nodded. “Would you like to see them?”

I abandoned the lunch Gilbert had served and got to my feet. “Yes. Please show me.”

Gilbert hesitated, glancing at the hot food that had just been brought from the chef’s kitchen.

“Hot or cold, it’s still delicious. Don’t worry, I’ll eat it.”

We made our way across the property to another building that was identical to the main palace, just a tenth of the size. It was two stories, probably the size of a single home in my old neighborhood. There were gardens around the perimeter with a patio that showed the lawns and the main palace.

It was nothing like the cabin she had now.

Gilbert allowed me inside, and we stepped into a living room with elegant furniture facing a TV. There was also a piano in the corner. The curtains were parted over the windows, giving a view outside.

It was beautiful.

Nothing like a prison.

We explored the guesthouse, stepping into her bedroom, where she had a large bed all to herself. She had a master bathroom with a full tub and a shower, a vanity to apply her makeup. Clothes were in the closet. Not nice things like what I had. But they would keep her comfortable.

Gilbert followed behind me. “Fender makes a promise, he keeps it. You shouldn’t doubt him ever again.”

I turned back around and regarded him.

His expression contained mild offense.

“I didn’t doubt him. I’m just anxious.”

“Why would you be anxious if you didn’t doubt him?”

My arms crossed over my chest, and my eyes narrowed. “Gilbert, I understand your loyalty to that man, but let’s not forget that my sister is working in a labor camp every single day that he doesn’t go back. She could be killed at a moment’s notice. I’m entitled to be anxious—so get off my ass.”

I sat on my couch and watched TV in French, hoping to catch on to their conversations. It was such a hard language for me because I’d never been exposed to it prior to my trip to Paris. In high school, I took Spanish…and didn’t retain a word of it.

A knock sounded on my door, telling me Gilbert had entered my bedroom.

I kept my eyes on the TV, still annoyed with him from earlier today.

He cleared his throat as he stood at the end of the other couch.

I still didn’t look at him.