Night's Honor (A Novel of the Elder Races Book 7)

“No problem,” she muttered. “I think.”

 

 

Was this okay? What kind of person needed to conduct body searches and car searches, just because you drove onto their property? It wasn’t like Xavier was the president, or even the Nightkind King. But then, what kind of person needed to have a head of security in the first place?

 

Reluctantly, she turned, put her hands on the roof of the car and widened her stance. While she scowled at him, Raoul patted her down. Despite her discomfort, she couldn’t find fault with anything he did. While the search was thorough, his touch was quite impersonal, and he never crossed the boundary into anything inappropriate.

 

When he was finished, he stepped back. “Thank you.”

 

Relieved that it was over, she straightened away from the car. “Sure.”

 

“May I have your car keys?”

 

Caught off guard again, she stared, and her hands clenched into fists. Why on earth would he want her keys? She said between her teeth, “This doesn’t feel good. I don’t know any of you, and that car is my freedom.”

 

“I understand this might cause you some initial discomfort,” he said calmly. “But I don’t know you either. Chances are, you’re exactly who you say you are, and you don’t have bombs, drugs or weapons hidden anywhere inside your vehicle. But I’m not in the business of taking chances, Tess. Think of it like airport security. You have to go through the process to get on the plane. Here, you have two choices. We can search your car and verify that you’re safe to have in close proximity to Xavier and ten other people who live here, or you can leave.”

 

While he said it with an easygoing smile, she had no doubt he meant it. Her jaw clenched, but she couldn’t find fault with anything he had said, and she didn’t have the money to go anywhere else. Slowly she pulled out her keys and held them out to him, watching his expression closely. “And this is all still routine, is it?”

 

He didn’t appear discomfited by her scrutiny, as he tilted his head in acknowledgment, took the keys and placed them on the hood of her car. “After Diego has had a look, your keys will be returned to you, and we can get you unpacked. For now, please follow me. How was your drive?”

 

If he wanted small talk, she would oblige. Looking at her car one last time, she fell into step beside him and tried to get her muscles to unclench. “It was good, thanks. The last part, especially along the coast, was gorgeous.”

 

“That stretch of road is one of my favorites in all of the world,” Raoul said.

 

She gave him a quick glance. His accent was indefinable, but something in the way he spoke lent weight to his words, as if he had seen many beautiful sites from all over, which, if he had been working for Xavier del Torro for any length of time, he probably had.

 

As they entered the main house through the side door, he asked, “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

 

Hunger had turned into a sharp, unrelenting spike that drove through her abdomen, but her stomach was also tied into knots. She said cautiously, “No, I haven’t.”

 

Raoul gave her a smile. While their initial encounter had turned her into a mass of nerves, he appeared entirely at ease. “I am to give you a quick tour, and we’ll take your things to your room. Then you will be speaking with Xavier again. When he’s done with you, you can take the rest of the evening to get settled. Jordan will make up a supper tray that can be brought to your room later. We had roast chicken for supper, and there were plenty of leftovers, unless you’re a vegetarian?”

 

So the tour was their chance to search her car. At least they would get it over with quickly enough and feed her supper. She told him, “Roast chicken sounds great, thanks.”

 

“Good. I’ll let Jordan know.” He led the way through the house with a purposeful stride. “The main house here has almost twelve thousand square feet. There are also four other buildings—including a garage, a guesthouse, a gym with a pool, a steam room and a dry sauna, and the house where most of Xavier’s attendants live.”

 

Now that she had truly committed to this course of action, she focused on what he was saying as she looked around. The kind of wealth needed to support such a property, especially a beachfront estate in California, was mind-boggling.

 

She tried not to gawk too much, but the house had a restrained elegance that was utterly beautiful, with an understated use of simple, high quality furniture in lots of space. “How many attendants does he have?”

 

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