Page 56 of Ruthless God

“You’re joking.” I gesture wildly at the helipad, practically panting. “You could have landed next to the fucking house and chose not to?”

Claudius doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look at me. He just keeps walking. Like he didn’t just drag me through miles of humid hell for no reason. Like he doesn’t hear the absolute rage vibrating off me.

I glare at his retreating form. I don’t care how dangerous he is…I'm going to kill him in his sleep.

Ahead, I spot two women standing on the front steps of the mansion, their postures straight, their expressions composed but watchful. They’re dressed in matching uniforms—sleek, black, and professional. Which means they work for Claudius. Of course, he has staff. Because why wouldn’t the man who owns an entire island also have people catering to his every whim?

I reach them just as they greet him.

The older woman inclines her head slightly, her voice smooth, respectful. “Welcome home, sir.”

The younger one adds, “It’s been too long.”

Claudius barely acknowledges them. Just dips his head once and keeps walking. Rude! I glance at the women, offering them a sympathetic smile because clearly, they deal with this emotionally stunted man on a regular basis.

“Hi.” I extend a hand, forcing a bit of brightness into my tone. “I’m Cecely.”

The older woman smiles—polite but distant.

“Welcome to Isola Ombrafiore, Ms. Blight.”

Ms. Blight. Right. Because formalities apparently still exist in the middle of nowhere.

She gestures toward the house. “Please, come this way, and I’ll show you to your room.”

I hesitate, glancing back at Claudius’ retreating form. No explanation. No ‘make yourself at home’ speech. Just silence and commands. Fine. Whatever. If I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well see where I’m being kept. Squaring my shoulders, I follow the woman inside—still annoyed, still sweaty, but at least I’m getting a damn room.

The cool air of the mansion wraps around me like a blessing. After that hike from hell, I could kiss the air conditioning. The older woman leads the way down a long hallway, her posture straight, practiced. Everything about her screams efficiency and control.

“What’s your name?” I ask as we walk, my voice casual.

She glances at me briefly, like she’s weighing whether or not to answer.

Then, she says, “Agnes.”

Agnes. Okay. Progress.

The younger woman follows a step behind, silent, observant, her gaze flicking between me and Claudius’ fading form. And the way she watches him? Oh my. She looks at him the way a puppy would. Like he hung the damn moon. Does she have a crush on him?

“And you?” I ask, turning my attention to her.

She startles slightly, like she wasn’t expecting to be acknowledged.

“Mildred, but everyone calls me Millie,” she says quickly, then bites her lip, like she’s worried she shouldn’t have spoken at all.

I narrow my eyes slightly. That’s weird.

“Nice to meet you both. And thank you for helping me,” I say, my voice warm but probing, watching for any reaction.

Agnes doesn’t bother responding. She just gestures ahead and says, “Right this way.”

Her tone is clipped. Like she’s trying to get me to shut up. Well, she’s about to learn that I’ll talk to anyone, even if they don’t respond.

As we walk, I throw out, “Claudius had me hike through the freaking forest to get here. I hope you two at least got to land on the helipad by the house.”

Agnes? Silent.

Millie? She blurts out, “Oh, we’re from here.”

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