Page 36 of Stitched Up in You
BERNADETTE CRENSHAW
“Well, Mr. Stein, you have one hell of a view,” I mutter, blowing the steam off my cup of coffee as I stare out at the sunrise. A light breeze teases at my unruly red hair, and I shove a strandof it behind my ear, leaning a hip against the balcony railing overlooking one side of the mansion. The stone wraps around part of the place with ivy crawling one edge, and the picturesque hillside makes it feel like something out of a fairytale.
When the limo was making its way up the long drive to Frank’s house yesterday, I noticed the balcony straight away and knew I’d be hanging out here eventually if given the chance.
I just didn’t know how soon, but if Frankie boy thinks he’s going to make demands, he’s got another thing coming.
His edict that I meet him in the dining room at such an ungodly hour means I found my way here at the butt crack of dawn.
If he really wants me awake anywhere near that early he’ll learn he has to keep me in his bed, which will never happen.
I scratch idly at my hip as I soak in the sunshine and send a quick blessing to whoever left the pair of blue sweatpants in my new room. I searched through two empty dressers before finding a wardrobe with them stashed. I’ve no desire to be inside when he starts yelling my name, and the pair I put on three days ago were definitely worse for wear.
I refuse to bend to that man’s will, and it’s clear as day he’s never had anyone get under his skin the way I know I can.
He needs me, the poor unruffled asshole.
I take a sip of my beautifully caffeinated brew from a coffee mug I found in the kitchen cupboards during my scrounging earlier, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. “That’s the stuff.”
When I open my gaze, I notice box-shaped buildings in the distance, past a lot of rolling hills. Hmm.
I eye the roof, and figure it’s not too steep to walk and will give me a way better vantage point. What all goodies is Frank Stein hiding at his crib? The mind boggles at what things one of the richest men in the world would buy.
Decision made, I put down my mug on the stone edge of the balcony and turn toward the roof. It should be short work to make it to the top, and it will be much easier to explore this place.
I grab at the roof hands first and walk up the pitch on all fours, the new shoes I found in my wardrobe gripping the shingles easily as I make my way to the top. Once I reach the peak, I squat and plop my butt down on the roof’s apex.
“Wow,” I murmur, the scenery before me breathtakingly beautiful. The view wouldn’t look out of place in any lawn or garden magazine. Willow trees laze at the back of the house near a picturesque pond, and a large greenhouse sits in the distance surrounded by flowers, the sunlight’s rays beaming off the glass. Holy cow.
It feels like a step back in time, like someone copied an old British estate straight out of a romance like one Jane Austen would write and slapped it right here in the middle of New York.
A huge tin roof gleams under the sun's pink rays in the distance.I wonder if Frank keeps horses.
I grip the stone railing and crane my neck to see what looks like a red and white canopy, like one you would see at a circus or a fair even further.
Cupping a hand over my gaze and squinting in the sunlight, I can just make out another round blue tent near the large red and white one.
What is that? A fair?
“What the fuck are you doing up there?” Comes a shout from below that almost sends me slipping across the roof.
My stomach jumps into my throat and adrenaline sends my heart racing at the near fall.
“Get down this instant,” Frank shouts again, and I crane my neck to see him a good twenty feet below, practically blowing smoke from his nostrils with how angry he is.
It looks like Mr. Stein finally found his emotions.I inwardly smirk and shake my head down at him, pursing my lips together as I plant my hands on my hips, keeping my balance easily.
He stands there with a rough scowl on his face, in a gray shirt and god help me, gray sweatpants.
“Sightseeing, what else,” I say, and wave happily down at him, “Good morning to you too Mr. Stein.”
“I said, get down before you break your fool neck,” he barks out.
Ouf. He just doesn’t listen, does he? “No, I don’t think I will, I’m enjoying the view,” I reply, and toss my nose in the air, turning away from him and wrapping my arms around my middle as I do.
I stare at the sun until tears bead at my eyes just to spite him.
“Fucking infuriating female,” he mutters, before tromping back inside the way he came, looking much like a bulldozer on a warpath.
