Page 12 of Made in Malice

He ignores my gesture. “You’ll have your own set.”

“Why do you need a key?”

“Because I do.” He motions for me to go into the room.

“Who else will have a key? Why bother even locking it if everyone can get in anyway?” I’m shuffling past to get through the door while keeping an eye on him, so I don’t get a look at the room until he walks in right after me, forcing me to move faster or risk him bumping into me.

“Holy crap.” I forget all about the key and the ulterior motives behind why I’m here. I’m slightly embarrassed to realize I might be easier to buy than I thought.

“No one but you will have the key to your bedroom, however, the property is secure,” he tells me, but I barely hear him. I’m too busy gaping at my quarters, which have a fully furnished living room, doors leading I don’t know where, and a darkened hallway off to the right. The lead glass windows all along one wall allow late afternoon sunlight to stream in, warming the expansive room.

“The Umbras’ private wing is on the north end. This is the guest wing,” Alden informs me as I spin. Should I be ashamed that the sting of my supposed grandfather’s chilly greeting is easier to ignore now? I find myself making excuses for him and his indifferent behavior. Maybe it’s a class thing and rich people don’t show emotions, or maybe my grandmother will be warmer.

“I’ll let you get settled,” Alden tells me and starts to back toward the door.

“Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Is there something you need?” His question reminds me that a familiar face does not equal a friend. He works for the Umbras, and he’s done his job by delivering me here.

I force myself to ask a question, so he doesn’t know I just didn’t want to be alone yet. “Am I supposed to just stay in here until someone comes to get me?”

“That’s probably for the best until you speak with your grandparents. Your things should be brought along soon, so you can get settled.”

“Okay,” I agree, already resigned to the fact that I’m in deep waters without a lifeboat. I need to rely on myself, which isn’t anything new to me. I’ve been taking care of myself for a while now, which is probably why I foolishly jumped at the chance of having a family that was offering me school and a home.

Alden hesitates as if he can read my thoughts, or maybe I’m just not as good as I thought I was at pretending to be tough.

“Thanks for hauling my stuff around,” I say as a dismissal. I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me, and that’s what this feels like it’s careening toward.

“Miss Devlin.” Alden does that weird head lowering thing, and I kind of hate it. I haven’t done anything to earn his respect or deference.

“Later.” I pivot around and wait to hear the door close before I start properly exploring. One thing is for certain—it’s a heck of a lot nicer than my apartment. Who cares if I’m still just as lonely for the time being?

The knock comes promptly at eight. I’m not ashamed to admit I was dozing on the plush couch while watching TV. It actually took me a second to recognize what the sound was and answer the door.

I crack the door, looking into the hallway to find a woman who’s a little older than me with a smile plastered on her face. If I had to guess, I would say it was as fake as my own. “Hello,” I greet.

“Good evening, Miss Devlin. Your presence has been requested at dinner.” I can’t ignore the way her smile falls flat when she glances down at my jeans and T-shirt.

I wipe under my eyes to make sure I don’t have any smudged mascara on my face, but there isn’t much I can do about my clothes. It’s not like I have something better to change into. “Sure, okay,” I agree before meeting her in the hall.

We walk in strained silence for several seconds before the woman airily asks, “How was your trip?”

“Good, thanks,” I say too quickly, wishing I would have elaborated a little more to use up more time. “I bet I could get lost in here.”

“It takes a bit of getting used to,” she agrees.

“Have you been here long?” I’m assuming she works for the Umbras, but I don’t want to come right out and ask what she does.

“I grew up here. Not in the main house,” she amends quickly, as if I would have known the difference. “My parents have been with the Umbras for a long time.” She sounds proud.

“That’s cool. Do you go to the college? It’s certainly beautiful.” I’m prodding for details about the school. I tried to look up information online, but apparently Cadieux is a private college, and the very limited data I could find was along the lines of a you don’t call us, we call you kind of thing. It said the students who attend are hand selected to be future leaders of the world. Virgil did mention me attending school there, but the thought makes me nervous since I was never a straight A student in high school, though in my own defense, it was a shitty time for me.

“It is lovely.” She does that imitation smile thing again, not answering if she attends or not, then waves her hand toward a room we just reached. “Enjoy your meal.”

“Thanks,” I say at her clear dismissal, then I enter the empty dining room. The table could easily sit twenty people, and the wood top is so shiny, I can see the chandeliers hanging above reflected on the surface. The high-back chairs are all throne-like, with armrests and ornate designs carved into the wood. It’s over-the-top opulence, and I feel very much out of place.

“Nova.”

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