Page 143 of The Seven Rings
“Obviously my game room idea has sparked imaginations on both sides of the veil.”
She switched cups, kissed him.
“Have a good day,” she told him as she walked out.
Trey looked down at the coffee, then drank half of it standing where he was. Since he’d started early enough, he could get in a workout at his place before he went into the office.
He switched to a go-cup, topped it off.
He thought about Sonya, down in the gym, the damn bell ringingas she did curls or squats or whatever the hell. Down there with a dog and Christ knew who or what else.
Then she’d spend most of the day at her desk. Alone, but not alone. With Dobbs slamming doors and windows, or much, much worse. The mirror could pull her who knew where or when.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
He hated when he could do nothing. Day after day, he worked to find solutions for clients, to find a way through difficult situations, issues, obstacles.
But for Sonya, he had no system, no precedent, no clever argument to help pull her through the maze.
This house, he thought as he walked through it. He’d always loved it. He’d not only accepted but enjoyed knowing its history and that many who’d made it still existed inside it.
He stopped at the game room.
He’d always been welcome there. He’d had good times there. With Owen, Manny, other friends, with Collin. Dobbs had never tried to run them out.
But then, he—and they—hadn’t been an obstacle, a competitor, a threat. Not then.
“I’m all of those now.”
He hoped she knew it.
In the Quiet Place, the hands of the old clock stood at three. He could change them, but they’d only move back. Annoyed, he walked in, changed them anyway.
He paused at the music room, scanned the portraits. Five of the seven. What would happen when they found and hung the last two? No way of knowing, but by any logic, it had to matter.
He paused again at the base of the stairs, and looking up, heard doors creak open. Heard, and felt in his bones, the low hum from the third floor.
Dobbs baited him. Even knowing it, he took a step up.
Diana Ross sang out “Stop! In the Name of Love” from Sonya’s tablet in the library.
“Damn it, Clover.”
However much it grated, he did stop. Not because of the warning, but due to the reminder he’d made a promise to Sonya not to go into that room. He could regret the promise, and at that moment, he did. But he’d made it.
“The time’s going to come she’ll have to let me off the hook for that promise. The time’s going to come,” he repeated.
He went out, called Mookie. And with a last glance at the manor, drove away.
Winded but righteous after her workout, Sonya showered off the well-earned sweat. Since she had a couple of virtual meetings scheduled, she spent time on makeup.
She came out to find white cropped pants and a navy V-necked shirt on the bed.
“I guess you heard I’ll be on-screen today. This works.”
She dressed, added simple stud earrings, then wound Clover’s rainbow beads into a modified choker.
“I like it. Very presentable. Okay, Yoda, time to go to work.”
