But now that she stood here, no warm welcome greeted her. That small child would never find the comfort she craved. Pain sliced through her heart.
Trying to ignore the shaking of her hands, Luna reached out and pushed the door open.
At first, nothing seemed familiar as she stepped into the hallway but each step further within forced her to consider. Wooden stairs led up, and an open doorway to her left revealed her father’s study. She caught glimpse of an endless supply of books that lined the walls and a desk overlooking the front of the house. Hazy memories fluttered within her head, but nothing settled.
She glanced around. A large living room sat on the right side of the house, a formal dining room just beyond it. The kitchen, that was ... Yes, it stood right at the back, spanning the entire width of the building.
A distant memory flooded her mind - of yellow skirts, a lacy apron, the scent of wildflowers and bread baking in the oven. Were they of her mother before she’d been sent away? Even when they’d stayed at her apartment in Paris, her mother rarely stepped out of the kitchen. It was her favourite place. In contrast, Luna hardly went in hers unless reaching for the kettle or a bottle of Baileys.
Luna strode through the hallway and straight into the kitchen. Her heart continued to race. Yellow gingham curtains hung from the windows, and a well-worn circular table and several chairs sat in the corner to the left. Dishes lay in the sink and mugs adorned the side, waiting to be cleaned. Breadcrumbs lay scattered on the worktop next to a coffee canister. Michael had always been messy.
Luna’s heart sank to her stomach. No scent of wildflowers or bread wafted in the air. No lacy apron hung in sight. She wouldn’t find her mother there anymore.
A cough from behind startled Luna out of her reverie.
“Well, well, well,” came a deep reverberating voice. “So, the prodigal daughter finally returns.”
Two
Whoa, who is that? Luna thought, not caring if her jaw really did hang halfway down to the floor or if it just felt like it. But hey, who could blame her when someone like this stood in front of her.
Standing six foot two, Mr Gorgeous was a feast for the eyes. Jet black hair cut short framed a square face with a chiselled jaw and eyes the colour of melted chocolate peered down at her. Tanned skin glistened with a thin film of sweat and Luna forced herself not to reach out and stroke it. Black jeans with faded knees encased well-defined thighs whilst a plain black t-shirt revealed the dips and contours of a muscular chest. She felt her own body, beating, pulsing, suddenly more alive than ever. Her nerve faltered at the look of. Luna swallowed. This stranger had caused her to feel more in five seconds than what she’d felt in the last month. Guilt engulfed her with the realisation.
Oops. Sorry, Pierre.
Finally finding the ability to shut her mouth, Luna continued to stare at him, reminding herself to breathe.
“What’s the matter, princess? Cat got your tongue?” he teased, his arms folded across his chest. A smirk spread across that devilishly handsome face.
Annoyance rippled through her at his words. “Who are you?”
Mock indignation registered over his features, and his dark eyes glimmered dangerously. No man had the right to look like that. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember? You used to follow Michael and I around the woods when we were younger. Couldn’t get rid of you, no matter what we did. Just like a mosquito, you always found us.”
Realisation dawned as a boyish face came to mind. “Chase?” she asked on a breathy whisper, suddenly recalling him. Mr Gorgeous confirmed it with a nod. Luna narrowed her eyes. “Oui. I remember you. You used to pull my hair and make me cry.”
Chase laughed gently. Unfolding his arms, he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes sweeping from her face to her feet and back again, lingering in a few intimate places. “Yep. Thought it would get you to stop following us. Never worked though.”
Cocking her head to one side, one particular memory came rushing back. “Didn’t I push you in the pond?”
Michael’s familiar laugh came floating down the hallway. “Yeah, I remember that. We sneaked down there one night, and you followed us again. Chase told you to go back home or he’d drag you back by your pigtails, so you pushed him in the pond. Damn, that was funny as hell.”
The corners of Chase’s mouth twitched. “She was a brat.”
For some inexplicable reason, the level of her annoyance rose another notch. “Well, since I’ve never had to push anyone else in a pond, I think we can safely say that the brat must have been you.”
Michael erupted with laughter and he slapped his best friend on the arm. “I wouldn’t mess with my sister, man. She’s savage.”
Dark eyes peered down into Luna’s face, as if slowly peering into her soul, expecting to find a secret or two. Not much of Chase came to mind except for the childish hair pulling and wanting to spend time with Michael on his own, but the man he’d become sent shivers racing down her spine. Those chocolate brown eyes shone with an intensity she’d never seen on any man before. Blood pooled in her cheeks as his eyes slowly devoured her.
“Hmm. I don’t think she’s capable of inflicting any kind of damage on me. She’s not strong enough.” That smirk returned and the heat flaming her cheeks instantly cooled to ice.
Luna raised her chin and plastered a plastic smile on her face. “I wouldn’t be too sure of yourself. Fencing was mandatory at my school and I was damn good at it.” Ignoring the one eyebrow that arched in amusement, she sauntered past both and headed towards the stairs. When she was only a few steps away, she stopped and peered over her shoulder. “I’m going to freshen up. Nice to see you again, Chase. Hopefully you don’t fall into any more ponds whilst I’m here.”
Luna climbed the stairs, smiling at the sound of her brother’s laughter peeling through the hallway. The annoyance Chase sparked in her dissipated like smoke on the wind with each step.
Her eyes roamed over the framed photos on the wall – her parents in various places around the house, Michael against a backdrop of trees, of herself sitting at a café in Carcassonne several years ago. Sections of faded wallpaper had started to peel away from the wall, exposing the plaster beneath. When was the last time her mother had decorated? It looked as if it’d been a while.
Luna continued up the stairs, the wood creaking under her feet.
After reaching the top, she glanced down the hallway. Several doors remained shut, but even from a distance she could see each door was adorned with different designs, all from different periods. She knew from previous conversations with her family that after her ancestors left England three hundred years ago, every subsequent generation had lived here. The memories of dozens of her deceased family members soaked the walls, their hopes and dreams embedded into the floorboards themselves. Luna’s fingers brushed the walls. Who were they, what had they dreamed of?
There was so much she didn’t know.
Inhaling, Luna took a tentative step forward, listening to the sound of the old floorboards groaning beneath. She stopped only a few seconds later, pausing at the door that led into her parent’s bedroom. She couldn’t remember much, but the heavy oak door engraved with intricate designs of leaves and wolves sparked familiarity. Yes, this was their room.
Part of her wanted to reach out, grab the handle and peer inside, but something stopped her hand from rising. The bitter taste of grief welled up into her throat. She wasn’t ready to open that particular door. Not yet.
Maybe never.
Instead, Luna walked a few steps down the hallway and stood outside another door that she instantly knew belonged to her. Etched into the wood lay a simple floral design with remnants of old white paint stuck in the corners of stems and petals. Michael’s door stood opposite. His featured a scene of wolves and woodland creatures. Her brow furrowed in thought as she tried to recall what the room beyond looked like. She vaguely remembered it being blue with red and orange stripes. Her brother had never had much taste in design.
> Taking another deep breath, Luna turned back to her own room and pushed the door open.
Pale pink walls shimmered as beams of sunlight streamed through the open windows while the glossy white curtains fluttered in the gentle breeze. White-washed furniture stood on the far side and neatly placed stuffed teddies and dolls lay on the single bed. Next to the closet door rested a Victorian-style dollhouse, not played with for decades, reminiscent of a childhood snatched away. Although the furniture remained dust-free and the floor clean, everything remained exactly how she must have left it all those years ago.
A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Wiping it away, sorrow pierced her heart. Although she’d come to love her boarding school, and her new country, along with spending time in the English countryside with her best friend, Luna could never deny the truth. Not even to herself. Beneath the smiles, a permanent bruise stained her heart.
Time seemed to come to a standstill as she gazed around the room where she’d lived for the first six years of her life. She could imagine playing tea parties with her stuffed toys in the centre, or house with her dolls, before being tucked in at night with a gentle lullaby. How much of it was real or just the fantasies of a woman who wanted her childhood back and do it right the second time around?
Oh, for heaven’s sake, get a grip and get washed up, she scolded herself, trying to force her head out of the pity party for one. She wiped away the last tear and brushed back her blonde hair. Travelling in economy for half a day tended to leave one dirty and tired. A shower was just what the doctor ordered.
Unstrapping her shoes once more, she kicked them into a corner and made her way past the closet towards the other door praying it was the en-suite. It was. Glancing around, a sigh of relief flowed past her lips as she found fresh towels and toiletries. She’d have to thank Michael for that later. He was a pain, but there was hope for him yet.
Switching the shower on, Luna peeled off her clothes, her sweaty skin silently thanking her for it as they dropped to the floor. Steam filled the room, the warmth melting away the icy feelings arisen from the other room.
Hot water enveloped her in its wet embrace, the temperature perfect unlike her own back home. There, no matter what you did to it, the shower had two settings – too hot or two cold. Luna leaned her head back, allowing the cascade of water to wash away the grime of travelling. After a few minutes, her body began to relax, and the roar of water drowned out the first sighs of contentment.
But with everything, she told herself, all good things had to come to an end. After washing her hair, Luna leaned her forehead on the porcelain tiles. Only thirty minutes had passed since she’d arrived and a part of her wanted to head back to the airport and jump on the first plane back to France. She’d known the emotions that she’d tried so hard to push down inside her would rise to the surface, but she hadn’t counted on having to deal with them so quickly.
She loved her parents - no doubt about it - but the resentment towards them remained just as strong as it had all those years ago. Not even their deaths could erase those feelings.
Sighing, Luna switched off the shower and grabbed a towel. Wrapping it around her, it only just covered the important bits. Hopefully Michael would have larger ones somewhere. She’d have to inform her brother that women had more parts to cover than men. She stepped across the tiled room and opened the door –
Only to find Chase standing in her room, setting her suitcase down on the bed.
Heat stained her cheeks once more and Luna hoped it matched the rest of her body. At least then she could blame the shower. “Oh,” she breathed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Chase stared at her. Dark eyes devoured her entire body, as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to settle his gaze. Completely aware of just how much skin was currently on offer, Luna tried to swallow down a smile. “Cat got your tongue?” she said, throwing his own words back at him but annoyed with herself at just how breathless she sounded.
A ripple of satisfaction burned through her as Chase opened his mouth slowly in surprise and then shut it as quickly as he could. “Your brother asked me to bring this up for you since you forgot.”
Nodding, Luna clutched the ends of the towel, ensuring that everything important was still covered.
Chase’s eyes followed her hands before a small chuckle escaped his mouth. “Don’t worry, princess. Your modesty is all covered. You’re quite safe from me, even if you do look good enough to eat.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, her brow creasing into thick lines.
Her heart sped up as he stepped closer. As soon as he stood just mere millimetres from her, he tilted his head and lowered his voice. “I said you’re safe from me. I don’t go for your kind.”
Before Luna could formulate a response, he strode out of her room, the door slamming shut behind him.
Three
As the sound of the door banging died away, Luna released the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Well, that was ... interesting.
What did he mean by her kind? Women? Was he gay? She couldn’t recall Michael mentioning if he was or not, but the way his eyes had roamed over her body – twice - didn’t feel like it.
Shaking her head as if to fling the incident away, Luna opened the suitcase on the frilly pink bed that even a ballerina would find it hard not to gag at. Ensuring the towel still covered everything, she searched for something to wear.
As usual, Pierre had lived up to expectations. Everything she needed was in there; jeans, t-shirts, shirts, underwear, pjs, and her smart black shift dress. No doubt for her parents’ funerals. She never had to worry when it came to Pierre, he always had the right answers to everything.
Guilt choked her throat at the thought of checking out another man when she already had a boyfriend.
A groan quickly followed as she remembered she hadn’t called to let him know she’d made it there safely. Slipping on underwear then blue jeans, a white tank top and a light short-sleeved shirt over it, she reached for her phone nestled at the bottom of her handbag. Better start calling it a purse whilst you’re in America, she told herself as she hit the dial button. Paris was about six hours ahead of her, making it early evening back home.
The phone had barely rung before he picked up. “Luna, my sweet, you are safe?” A gentle tone accompanied his words.
Luna smiled at the sound of his voice, sweet warm honey to her ears. His thick French accent could melt even an ice queen’s knees. “Salut, Pierre. Yes, I got here safely. Did you just get back from work?”
A sigh through down the phone. “I did. Work was boring knowing you weren’t there at the office. Your replacement has already messed with the filing system, Marie has started an affair with one of the junior lawyers, and the post-boy vomited on a client.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Luna’s mouth. Drama flowed through the law firm they both worked at like a hurricane. It certainly kept things interesting, especially for lowly secretaries like herself. Although she’d certainly put the cat amongst the pigeons when she’d started dating one of the firm’s top lawyers. “Just another day in paradise then.”
“Nothing ever changes there,” Pierre agreed, letting out a weary breath. “Your flight was good?”
“Yes. No delays or turbulence, just the way I like it. Michael was already waiting for me at the airport. We just got here.”
Pierre paused for a moment. “Ah, ma petite, what is wrong? I can taste the sadness in your voice.” Concern coated his words.
Damn him. Always too good at reading people. Which was why he was one of the best lawyers in France.
A sigh escaped her lips before she could stifle it. “I don’t know exactly. This place is both familiar and strange. I’m home in a way, but it’s not been my home for over twenty years. It’s my parent’s home, it’s Michael’s home, but it’s not really mine. It’s ... It’s painful knowing I’m in the place I wanted to be, but that no one wanted me here.” Each
word pricked her throat as they tumbled out of her mouth. Luna sank onto the bed where she had slept as a child, gripping the phone hard enough it dug into the tender flesh of her palm.
“Luna, I’m sorry I’m unable to take your pain away. I wish I could’ve travelled with you and stood beside you at this time, but work dictates otherwise.”
Silent tears ran down her cheeks and Luna wiped them away. She smiled at Pierre’s words, hearing the genuine remorse in his tone. “I know. The office is short-staffed as it is and the whole place would go crazy if you weren’t there. Are Fred and Edmond still missing?”
“Yes,” Pierre said, trying to keep his voice even, but Luna could hear the undercurrent of frustration in his words. Two of the firm’s top lawyers had gone missing for several days and everyone was worried. “The police are utterly useless and can’t find anything. We’ve got our own investigators on the case now. There’s a few decent leads already.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else of you, and neither would anyone else,” Luna replied, rubbing her eyes with one hand. It was true. If there was one person everyone counted on, to sort everything out, it was Pierre. Dependability was his middle name. The firm couldn’t let him go when they were down two lawyers in the middle of a complicated case. Just because her parents died didn’t mean that everything else stopped. She, on the other hand, was just another secretary. They could afford to let her go. Pierre, not a chance. She exhaled, and the tired sound echoed around the room. “I just wish I didn’t have to do this alone.”
“But you’re not doing this alone, ma petite. Your brother is with you, yes? He will see to everything and I’m just a phone call away.”
Smiling through the tears, Luna repressed the urge to laugh. In many ways, Pierre was a little old-fashioned and believed that women should allow men to do certain things for them. Little things, such as holding doors or pulling out chairs, Luna secretly enjoyed. Such traits were endearing, but having Michael sort out everything for her whilst she wallowed mindlessly in her grief? Uh, no. That was annoying. She’d find something while she was here. Going insane with nothing to do wasn’t her style.
House of Wolves (Silver Moon Series Book 1) Page 2
