Page 98 of Ivory Ashes

“Wow. That was fast.” My knees go snap, crackle, and pop as I stand up. Getting older is no joke.

“Because you didn’t do a good job hiding. I could see your leg sticking out.”

“Look around, kiddo. There aren’t very many hiding options out here for me.” I ruffle his hair. “I’m bigger than you are.”

His forehead squishes for a second while he thinks. Then he grabs my hand and drags me towards the house. “Let’s play inside!”

Dante drags me back up the hill, through the back door of the mansion, and down the hall towards the guest suites. “I’ll count again, but find somewhere good to hide,” he orders, eyes narrowed. “Really good. Not a baby spot. Actually try hard.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll give it my best shot.”

He starts counting and I hurry down the hallway.

The only time I’ve been in this wing of the house is the day Dante and I moved in. I saw it briefly during the tour, but otherwise, there hasn’t been much reason for me to venture over here.

I test a few doorknobs and find them locked. Then, as Dante’s counting enters the forties, I find a door that opens. I duck inside and softly pull the door closed behind me.

It’s a sitting room with connected bedrooms on either side. Leave it to Mikhail to have a guest suite in his house that is nicer than any hotel I’ve ever stayed in.

But what really catches my attention are the three bouquets of red roses gathered on the coffee table. There have to be six dozen roses here, at least. But why are they sitting in some unused room in the back of the house?

There’s a ribbon wrapped around one of the vases, a small card attached to it with a little heart scrawled in the corner.

Just like the one I saw in Mikhail’s office the first day after his takeover of Cerberus Industries.

The day I accused him of having a wife—only for me to become his wife the very next day.

Does he have some girlfriend on the side?

Do I care?

I made it part of our arrangement out of spite, mostly. I didn’t think Mikhail would agree to marry me if I told him he had to be celibate.

Maybe that’s why he agreed… because he isn’t celibate.

All of these thoughts run through my head in a matter of seconds as I turn the card over and see the loopy writing on the other side.

One rose for every hour I thought of you today.

I drop the card like it’s poisoned and count the roses in the vase. Twenty-four. One for every hour.

Aside from being nauseatingly corny, my stomach twists for a very different reason. Someone out there with neat penmanship and enough money for hundreds of dollars’ worth of roses is thinking about Mikhail. She’s leaving him cheesy notes and he’s hoarding them away in a back room.

Does he like this?

Is he sweet with her?

Does he think of her, too?

Voices in the hallway just outside the door stop my spiral in its tracks.

“I’m looking for my mama,” Dante says. “We’re playing hide-and-seek.”

“Don’t let me get in your way,” Stella tells him cheerfully. “I’m just dropping something off.”

If the flowers are all the way back here, Mikhail clearly doesn’t want me to see them. I’m not sure what he’ll do if he finds out I know about his secret admirer. So I’d love for Stella not to see me looming over them like the jealous snoop I am.

Just as the door is opening, I dive into a tall, narrow wardrobe in the corner and close the door.

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