“I do, indeed.”
Melisande said, “Justine, please don’t feel obligated to come if it’s going to make you uncomfortable.”
“Nonsense,” said Justine. Her gaze met Xavier’s with a clash that was almost audible. “Pass up the chance to see inside our reclusive Xavier’s private retreat? I wouldn’t miss this opportunity for the world.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” said Xavier grimly.
Both Melisande and Justine left to make last-minute arrangements. Xavier texted Raoul as he waited.
Prepare for houseguests until sundown tomorrow. All trainees need to stay in total seclusion.
Raoul responded almost immediately. Who’s coming?
Melisande and Justine. Trade negotiations with the Light Fae have been suspended for the night. You have a half hour to get ready.
A pause.
Then Raoul texted back: Bloody hell.
? ? ?
By the time Tess had unpacked her suitcases and set them on the floor of the closet, a knock sounded at her door and she went to answer it.
Outside in the hall, a short man stood holding a dinner tray. He had an intense gaze and appeared to be in his sixties. According to his looks, he could be older than Raoul, but of course that would depend on how old he had been when he had become Xavier’s attendant.
He gave her a nod. “I’m Jordan. I do the cooking. Raoul asked me to bring you a supper tray.”
“Hi, I’m Tess.” She took the tray, staring at the food. The main dish was covered, but the side plates weren’t. One plate contained a green salad with a variety of different colored beets and a simple olive oil dressing. The other small plate held a slice of carrot cake. There was also a small green bottle of Perrier, another small, unopened individual bottle of wine, and silverware wrapped in a linen napkin. The scent of roast chicken coming from the covered dish made her mouth water. “This is fantastic. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Jordan hesitated. “We’re all night owls and tend to stay up late, so you’ll have to speak up if the music or the TV bothers you.”
She shook her head. “Thanks for the warning, but I’m a pretty hardy sleeper.”
Usually. When she wasn’t having nightmares of being endlessly tortured by a vengeful Djinn.
“I’ll let the others know. Bon appetit.”
As he left, she pushed the door shut with one foot, carried the tray to the bed and removed the lid from the main plate to reveal succulent slices of moist roast chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy and dressing. Real, homemade food.
She dove in and didn’t come up for air until all of it was gone.
As the nutrition hit her system, it gave her a burst of energy and the fog cleared from her mind. Gathering up the tray, she took it downstairs to the large, well-appointed kitchen, washed her dishes and found the appropriate drawers and shelves for everything except for the tray itself and her used linen napkin. After some hesitation, she left those on one end of the counter.
Then she went exploring, and ran into a large number of young men engaged in a variety of activities. Some watched TV and a few played Ping-Pong in the large family-style room in the basement.
Still more worked on laptops, although she never got a glimpse of what was on any of their screens. To a person, they closed their laptops before she got too close.
In fact, except for Jordan, Raoul, and an older Hispanic-looking woman with graying hair who introduced herself as the housekeeper, Angelica, all of the other attendants she met were young, fit-looking men.
Was that strange?
She was inclined to think that was a little strange, but then she was running short on sleep and so many other weird things had happened that day, she decided to let it go for the moment.
After so many introductions, she didn’t remember anybody’s name except for Diego’s, mostly because Raoul had mentioned him before.
“You’re the one who searched my car,” she said to Diego as they shook hands.
“So I did,” he said. He was a handsome man who appeared to be in his thirties, but then she wasn’t sure about anybody’s real age on the estate. His dark, restless gaze swept over her, taking in her appearance. “Are you settling in all right?”
“Yes, thanks. Jordan brought me a supper tray with the most amazing carrot cake for dessert.”
He nodded. “Jordan’s a great cook. And don’t worry about the dessert. You’ll be working off the calories soon enough.”
It was her turn to glance down his lean, muscled body. He looked like an athlete in the peak of condition. While a regular blood offering to Xavier would give him a lot of enhancement, she bet those bicep guns and washboard abs came from good old-fashioned, hard training.
“Looking forward to it,” she said. “Hey, it is okay if I walk around outside?”