Page 11 of Beautiful Deception

“Winter doesn’t have much UV rays.”

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The dinner surprise was an amazing opera performance from the butler. It was awkward at first for everyone; having dinner with a songster in the background was never popular in my circle, although certain private diners catered to those who wanted it.

That was how we knew the butler was a former mezzo-soprano.

I wonder if the other house staff have hidden talents. I don’t mind if it’s used to pass the time, so the next four days go faster.

After a steamy shower, I leave the bathroom with flushed skin, my mind refreshed after another long day. Taking the lid off the hot water, I enjoy the way it keeps my body warm while pushing one window curtain to the side.

It’s a new habit I picked up during my short stay here. It’s less straining to my eyes than watching a kaleidoscopic view of the city from my home.

Buying a cabin in the mountains is an idea I’m keeping as I savor the breathtaking view of the moonlit mountains and the lulling expanse of snow-covered pine trees.

A rupture in the halcyon night, dense as underwater, waltzes with the solitude that envelopes the landscape. The muted whistle of wind beckons a promising surprise as I squint down from the second floor and along the tree line.

From the corner of my eyes, a shrouded reflection of something haunts the weak senses on my neck as I spin around in shock. I scan the bedroom hastily with a pounding heart and ringing ears, yet the fear in my veins won’t stop… even when I search twice.

I turn to the window and wipe my hand over the spot where I saw it. Flecks of dust cling to my fingertips, but not enough to be whatever I saw.

That’s when I spot it, the smallest imprint right at the tree line that’s far off the right side of the brick villa.

I duck, my hair slapping me in the face, and pray that whatever is out there is gone. The windowsill is high enough to conceal my entire body, and since I’m on the second level, whoever is out there can’t scale the walls.

But why am I hiding?

It could very well be a guest outside playing with snow.

I pat my chest, chiding at my harsh heartbeats as I slump against the wall. My clammy fingers curl around the flapping thick curtain, seeking leverage to stand, but my knees buckle.

My tailbone soars in pain, sending agonizing heat up my spine as I fall at a bad angle to the floor. Another jolt in my stomach stirs when my blood runs cold.

There are hundreds, if not thousands, of eyes on me. My breath hitches, suspended in the frigid air, and hijacks the motionless sensation in my fingers to yank the curtain shut without looking up.

There is a voice in my head, screaming to not look up at the window, and it’s the instinctual tone that I believe wholeheartedly.

Whether it’s a mere trick of the mind, a distorted clump of snow, or something real, my body is teetering on the edge of panic if I don’t leave the room.

I sprint out, nearly twisting my ankle as I hug the wall and turn to face the bedroom through the ajar door.

“What are you doing?” Remo questions from behind his door.

My vision is shaky and cloudy, but I don’t want to blink and open them to see something coming at me. I thrust my hand out to him, aimlessly flailing it amid the commotion, and hiss angrily at him.

I couldn’t hear or recall what I said, but he was right next to me in the blink of an eye.

Latching onto his hand, I sigh in relief and push him forward without taking my eyes off my door.

“Go check,” I squeak after a nasty cough. “Inside the room. There’s something there.”

I’m rambling, but he seems to understand most of it when he presses his palm over the back of my hand and silently squeezes it. I understand the indication, let go hesitantly, and keep a close eye on him as he searches my room.

After a minute or two, he comes out with a shake of his head. “I found nothing.”

Am I too sensitive? Dr. Kian did say I overthink at times, but it can be good if done correctly. He hasn’t taught me how to do it yet or if anything he said was true.

I doubt he would risk his reputation with such a silly lie.

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