Page 18

“No,” he repeats. “Ms. Hart has a more important job today. Come with me, Ella.”

6

NATHANIEL

Ella Hart follows me without asking where we’re going.

That tells me several things.

First, she’s frightened.

Second, she’s trained.

Third, she’s already learned the first rule of Vexley House. When a Vexley tells you to move, you move.

I slow my pace as we walk through Vexley House. Marble floors. Carved moldings. Oil paintings in gilded frames. And the key motif everywhere.

Ella keeps half a step behind me. Her shoes make almost no sound on the marble. She moves like someone accustomed to disappearing. A shame, really. I’ve probably seen her many times and never noticed her. I was trained to ignore the help.

But now I see Ella Hart.

And Christ, the employee photo did not prepare me.

Her blond hair is pulled back at the nape of her neck, but a few loose pieces have escaped around her temples. Her lips are full and naturally red, and her body… Even in the black maid’s uniform, she’s clearly busty and toned. Her skin is creamy, except for the mark blooming across one cheek.

Audrey’s mark.

I didn’t see the slap itself, but I saw enough to know exactly what happened. The way Audrey’s face changed when she noticed me. The girl on the floor. The red flare on Ella’s cheek and the humiliation she tried to swallow.

I know violence when I see it.

Ella’s eyes are what hold me, though. Large and clear blue. They seem innocent, but not entirely. There’s fear in them, yes. Caution. A little anger tucked beneath obedience.

Good. A little anger can be useful.

She glances up, catches me staring at her, and then drops her gaze.

That irritates me.

“Have you been at Vexley House long?” I ask.

“No, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir.”

“What should I call you?”

“Nathaniel.”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Then, “No.”

“No?”

Her cheeks color, and the mark on one side makes the blush uneven. “I mean… Sorry. I mean, I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re Mr. Vexley.”