Page 53 of Tangled In Lies

Once inside, he activates the security system and follows me.

“Miss Caldwell. Ah, there you are. I’m so glad I could catch you.” Huxley appears out of nowhere, carrying a rectangular black box. “This was left for you while you were out.”

I don’t move a muscle. I can’t.

After an awkward moment of silence, Holden says, “Thanks, Huxley. I’ll take it for her.”

“Of course, sir.” Huxley hands Holden the box, and disappears with a little head bow.

Poor man did nothing wrong. I’ll need to make sure to apologize to him tomorrow.

Holden holds out the box for me, and I lift the lid. I already know what’s inside, but I check anyway. A bouquet of withered red roses. Just like the oneshesent after Connie died.

Fully aware of Holden’s gaze on me, I grab the small card tucked inside and close the lid.

Congratulations on the engagement. You’ll make a beautiful bride.

My head spins.

I need to get away.

I school my features the best I can and look at Holden. “Someone must have sent these as a prank. Would you mind tossing them in the trash for me, please?”

He narrows his eyes at me, probably not buying my bullshit, but nods. “Okay. Just wait here for a second. I’ll be right back.”

I shake my head. “Holden, I don’t need a babysitter. I’m a big girl and can walk upstairs by myself.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. But have it your way, Princess.”

With that, he spins around and stalks off in the opposite direction.

Way to go, Eve. He was just trying to be nice.

Maybe that’s the problem. When this arrangement started, I thought I knew what I was getting into. Not just with Phoenix but also with Holden. Now, all lines are blurred, and I’m constantly confused, especially with Holden. Besides kicking down our door at my old house—which Ruby and Mason assured me was fixed before the end of the day—Holden hasn’t been mean to me or mistreated me in any way.

Is this a twisted form of deferred Stockholm syndrome?

With a sigh, I take off my heels. My feet are killing me. I trudge up the stairs, the smooth feel of the rail under my fingers calming me. I tap it the entire way up. At the top, I turn toward the left where my room is, but something stops me.

Maybe the flowers—an absolutely unnecessary reminder from Freddy that my life isn’t really my own—finally pushed me over the edge toward insanity.

My chest heaves, and my heartbeat quickens in tune with my shallow breaths. Without overthinking it, I follow the invisible pull and stride in the opposite direction.

Once I reach my destination, I stare at the open door. The soft carpet soothes my aching feet the moment I take a cautious step into the room for the first time. My gaze dashes past the seating arrangement to the grand piano in front ofthe windows. Last I knew, Phoenix didn’t have a musical bone in his body, so I wonder if his grandfather added this music room.

The piano’s polished surface shines in the moonlight, the night sky bright enough to illuminate the stark contrast of the white and black keys from the rest of the body. I walk over to it in a daze and circle the black beauty once, twice, sliding my fingers along the glossy sides, a weird mix of panic and anticipation filling my chest at touching the instrument. Familiar, yet foreign. It’s been so many years since I last played, and now that I’m this close, I can’t resist the draw of it.

I place my purse on the extensive body and sit on the bench.

The magic that used to encompass my entire being whenever I was near a piano slowly weaves its way back into my essence.

Play for me, Angie.

My sister’s voice drifts into my mind like she’s with me in the room. Although Connie wasn’t musical, she shared my love of classical music. She loved to listen to me play, either live or via a recording, which helped her focus better on her school assignments and work. She was such a workaholic, just like my father and brother. There were days when I wondered if I was adopted, but the family resemblances were too uncanny to deny.

I felt about music the way Connie felt about work. It was my favorite escape from life, my way of dreaming about the future, my only way to create that unique spark that lights up my soul like nothing else does.

I move my fingers over the keys.

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