The Insiders by Tijan

EIGHT

The Chesapeake was really Holy Crap City. The place was huge, and I was getting the gist of why Peter Francis had to name his places.

And yeah, I’m not using the d-word or the f-word.

If I was supposed to hide as his illegitimate bastard, well then, so was he. A bastard. And illegitimate to me.

After stopping at a huge security gate, we drove up a long winding driveway that went past two fountains. Not one but two. It was like we were in the middle of a golf course, with those types of fancy water fountains when you first pull up to the main lodge, except this place was bigger than a nine-hole golf course. And I knew that because I had to set up cyber security for Brookley’s golf course back home. Crap pay but they wouldn’t get hacked again. Not that they got hacked in the first place, because, small confession, that’d been me. I needed some quick cash. They needed better security. So I was really helping them out. See. Giver. Me. That was one characteristic they failed to add to my résumé—or so I was assuming. They only gave me a whole file on who I was supposed to be pretending to be.

“Since pulling past the gates, you have sighed, laughed, growled, and now you’re glaring.” Kash raised an eyebrow, looking so cool and collected. “Are you planning someone’s murder?”

“Maybe.” I gave him a meaningful look. “Yours?”

He only grinned back, his eyes dropping to my lips. Lingering. Darkening. “Well, that’ll be fun.”

The buzzing was back.

I ignored it. “So you live here too?”

He nodded. “I have a villa here, yes.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And you’re still not going to tell me what you do for my fa—” Damn. “For Peter Francis?”

His eyebrows dipped at my change. “You’ll find out. Eventually. Until then, just stick to the file. You’ve memorized it already?”

I tapped my head. “Photographic memory up here, Jeeves.”

I waited, but neither of us commented on where that came from. I loved my mom, but she had the opposite of a photographic memory. Show her something to remember and it’s the first thing she forgets.

We were going past a smaller brick building, with three garage stalls on the side. It looked like the security headquarters. Two golf carts were parked outside of it. A sidewalk wove past it on the lawn, sweeping up to the larger and main house, which is where we were heading.

And …

We went right past it.

It looked like a mausoleum, or a small medieval castle. It had brick and stone on the outside. A grandiose doorway that probably stretched up three floors just by itself. The steps going up to the doors put the steps at my last high school to shame. There were pointed arches on wings that were setting out from the house.

Then we turned, driving around the main building and heading to the right of it. I glimpsed the backyard, which was just as impressive. A pool. A tennis court. A cobblestone patio that stretched out and had different levels to it. One section had a campfire section, swinging chairs set up around it. Another section had a large grill and kitchen area built into the rock. A third section was where the sidewalk met the back of the house. There was more back there, but we were too far away for me to see it.

A whole line of trees blocked my view from seeing what else was back there.

We parked and I turned around, and my mouth fell open once more.

It should just stay there. I could start sweeping, get paid as a maid while I was here.

Jokes aside, I wasn’t fully gaping. On the outside, I probably had wide and alert eyes as I was taking everything in, but the mouth was cleaning floor on my insides.

The door opened, and I stepped out to see another mansion.

Villa was a cute word for this home. This was huge, just not as huge as the other one.

A cobblestone walkway led to the front, a whole white brick porch. A set of wrought iron doors opened to a front entryway, and there was another set of doors after them. And going through there, it was all man inside.

Sleek, dark gray trim. Granite floor that covered the entire first floor. The main floor had an open layout. I could see the living room with the fireplace that ran all the way to the ceiling. The wall across from me was mostly made up of windows, floor to ceiling. The kitchen had European shelving and a waterfall kitchen island. The backsplash was white rock.

Stairs went up to the next floor from my right. A walkway connected to another back section of the house.

“Did you just have that one bag?” Kash touched the small of my back, just one touch before he passed by and went to his kitchen.

I sucked in my breath.

He went to a pile of mail on his counter, picking up an envelope. I still hadn’t answered, so he lifted his head. “Bailey.”

“Hmm?” I jerked out of my trance.

I was a mess inside. Seeing everything my sperm donor had, knowing I had left my mom behind, knowing they wouldn’t have let her come here—I was feeling some bitterness.

She was my mom. I had been his kid. If he’d given her a little extra, she could’ve—no, no, no! I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t. Thinking like that was toxic. Be glad for what you get in life. Be thankful and you never have to feel the pinch of “Why not me?” syndrome. That was poison if you let it take over.

“You okay?”

The back of my neck was getting warm, but I coughed. Why did he have to actually sound like he cared? All concerned and sympathetic. “Yeah. Yeah. So…” I was supposed to stay here? With him? I heard it before, but I hadn’t fully thought about it. Him. Me. This house. Plus the whole secrecy about who I was. I was getting the distinct impression I was in way over my head.

“Will that be all, Mr. Colello?” The driver came in behind me, a suitcase in hand. “Would you like this brought to your room?”

Kash gave him a nod. “Thank you, Edward. You can leave that right there.”

I knew an Edward once. Edward Vance. He was my seventh-grade math teacher. He was supposed to teach me algebra and instead I offered to figure out how he could get a tax refund bonus for extra credit. At the end of that year, he asked my mom out and they dated through the summer. That’d been awkward. I didn’t need to hear how Edward Vance could take the van all the way home.

“Bailey?”

“Yes!” I checked back in. “Where’s my room here?”

I was freaking.

This was post kidnapping.

This was post learning a huge fucking lie.

This was not-knowing-what-was-going-to-happen-in-my-future freaking.

This was just plain freaking.

Everything was hitting me all at once.

My stomach twisted up inside.

“Bailey.” Kash was frowning at me, the mail down on the counter.

I clamped a hand over my mouth. “I don’t feel so good.”

His eyebrows shot up, and he was at my side in a flash.

Opening a door, he pushed me down to the floor. The toilet lid was shoved up, and then I let it rip.

Worst. Day. Ever.

Wait. Scratch that. I forgot about the kidnapping.

Second worst. Day. Ever.