Bess had spoken for a while about how nice it would be to have a woman around the place. About giving her a proper tour. About arranging for her room to become permanent. The bedroom she was sleeping in at the moment was much better than the one she’d been in before. It seemed closer to the bosom of the family. But it was in a public space, leading off the mezzanine that overlooked the grand foyer.
It was a bedroom that she imagined would be given to visiting guests, if they ever had dinner parties or balls here. The building was vast and ornate, making it the perfect place to entertain.
Thad ate some of the food, and everything he said about her presence was positive. Except she couldn’t help but feel he was holding something back. She’d eaten in small bites, and by the time her plate was empty, her body was rebelling to the quantity of carb-rich food. Devon excused herself and went to her bedroom and that was the last she saw anyone that night.
Zave may have been outside her room, and she hoped he wasn’t expecting her to come to him again. The excitement of the day had left her so exhausted that she’d passed out before getting as far as changing into her nightwear.
She hadn’t gotten around to closing the curtains in her bedroom either, but she wasn’t woken by first light. By the time she opened her eyes, the sun was beaming through onto the floor, indicating it was high in the sky and nowhere near the horizon.
Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Devon brought her legs off the edge of the bed and yawned as she sloped towards the bathroom. After washing her face, brushing her teeth, and combing her hair, she came out to find Bess standing at the end of her bed.
Devon would’ve asked why the woman was there, except she was distracted by the sight of a tall glass sitting on her nightstand. Filled to the brim with pale pink liquid, the drink was topped with cream and right there at the peak of the white mountain was a glowing red cherry.
Such a delight was like a dream and out of place in this gothic house that she wasn’t sure at first if she’d woken up and gotten out of bed at all. “What is that?” she asked, her finger floated towards the baby pink froth on the lip of the glass.
At some point she’d moved from the bathroom door to the bedside, and she coated the tip of her index finger with the thick foam.
“A strawberry and vanilla milkshake,” Bess said, so proud of herself and so elated that Devon almost laughed.
“It’s…” She’d asked for it in half a murmur yesterday and had completely forgotten that the request had come out of her mouth. She certainly hadn’t expected this perfect and prompt gift.
“Straw?” Bess asked, coming over to take the paper-wrapped straw from the surface next to the glass.
Unwrapping it, Bess put it in the drink, poking a hole in the cream beside the cherry. It took its sweet time sinking into the sweet liquid, telling Devon that it was going to be thick, creamy, and decadent. Anticipation made her squeal and spring forward to hug Bess who whooped out a laugh but hugged her back.
Being so happy over something so simple was ridiculous. “I’m sorry,” Devon said, tearing up. “I… It’s just…”
It seemed so silly to cry over something like a milkshake, but streams of moisture skidded down her cheeks. Bess took her to the bed and held her close asking for no apology.
“You’ve been through so much,” Bess said, soothing a hand down her back and reverting to her maternal role and giving up some of her own excitement. “It’s ok to let it out.”
Once she’d started, it was difficult to stop. Taking Bess’ invitation to release the emotion was involuntary, but Bess held her and soothed her with reassuring words and a gentle hand. Such a warm, friendly gesture that was so accepting perplexed Devon because she’d never had someone care for her without expectation.
Calming herself down, Devon retreated from Bess’ embrace to wipe her eyes with her hands. “I didn’t know that was in there,” Devon said, embarrassed enough that she would rather look at the carpet than at the woman who’d comforted her.
“You’ve been holding it in for too long,” Bess said, taking Devon’s damp hand to her lap. “You’ve been strong… We’re going to work it all out with you, dearie, you’re not alone anymore. We’re going to help you.”
The goal had been for Devon to help the Kindred, not the other way around. It seemed that all she did was take from these people who gave her shelter, food, and warmth. Now Bess was dealing with her emotional breakdown while Zave was showering her with gifts.
That reminder made Devon’s focus float to the milkshake on the bedside. With another hand pat, Bess got up and retrieved the drink to bring it over to her. “Thank you,” Devon said, feeling foolish yet calm.
“Try it,” Bess said, sitting on the bed at her side.
As she’d said to Zave last night, the point of the milkshake was to make her feel better. But if Devon had needed the pick-me-up when she awoke, she needed it a hundred times more now that she’d just lost it in front of Bess.
Devon glanced at her, then caught the straw between her thumb and forefinger to direct it between her lips. She had to work hard to suck up the cold, thick shake. But it was worth it when the froth burst in her mouth. The icy liquid was so sweet and delicious that her eyes began to water again.
“Mm, it’s amazing,” Devon said with her eyes closed and her teeth gently clasping the straw.
Bess leaned in to stage whisper. “I make my own ice-cream and grow my own fruit.”
“Is it strawberry season?” Devon asked, because she’d lost most of the year and was still trying to play catch up.
“We have a walk-in freezer where we store the fruit harvested in spring. Zave had a gothic-arch greenhouse built for me, too, so I can grow anything, at any time of year. It’s all state of the art, of course.”
Bess had mentioned the freezer before. This house was amazing and the more she heard, the more intrigued she became.
“You sit there and drink that,” Bess said, patting her knee. “I’ll put the shower on so it’s nice and steamy in there for you before you get in. Thad will come up and see you in an hour, does that sound ok?”
“Thank you,” Devon said. Bess was already on her way towards the bathroom.
The doctor hadn’t been to examine her since she’d been in her new room. After their conversation last night, Devon would relish the opportunity to try and read more into his opinion on her hanging around for a while.
Taking another long drag on the straw, the glorious, thick liquid made her feel better, and she was glad that her weakness for sweet milkshake had slipped out. Every time she hinted at her likes in front of Zave, he went out of his way to fulfill her desire as quickly as possible.
The shower went on, and Bess fussed for a while before she came out. “We’re having a family meal tonight,” Bess said. “Everyone will be there.”
“A family meal?” she asked. Did they mean biological family or Kindred family? “I’ll make myself scarce.”
“Oh no, you’re the guest of honor! Our newest member needs a proper welcome. Brodie and Zara will be leaving afterwards,” Bess said. “Thad will take them back to the mainland.”
“At night? How will they get there?” It couldn’t be safe out in the choppy seas she’d seen in the black night.
“He flies. We have a helicopter. Two actually.”
The shake which she’d held in front of her chest lowered, and she rested it on her knee. “You have two helicopters?”
“I don’t,” she said, fussing with the curtains that were open anyway. Bess bent to gather up some of the art supplies that Devon had left scattered on the low window seat. “Zave does. He flies too. He was the one who taught Thad, he has his instructor’s license.”
That he could accomplish something so incredible wasn’t a surprise, but that he had been patient and willing to teach Thad was a shock. “Zave?” she asked, putting the milkshake down after another drink. “Has he always been this way?”
Bess discarded the pencils to turn. “What
way?” Bess asked.
“I don’t know, he isolates himself.”
“Yes, he does,” Bess said.
Leaning back, Devon crossed her legs. “You told me not to hurt him, but I don’t know why you would think I could.”
“Bronwyn’s death was horrendous for us all,” Bess said. “If there was any silver lining, it was that it forced Zave out of his seclusion.”
“Out?” she asked, assuming that was the kind of thing that would’ve pushed him in.
Bess took a long breath and came back towards her. “When he was a child, it was obvious he was brighter than everyone else. He graduated high school and got a college degree years ahead of his peers. Anything he wanted to accomplish, he could without effort. His knack for inventing made him a rich boy young, before he had the slightest clue what to do with that kind of wealth. Buying this house,” Bess said, lifting her eyes to the rafters. “Was supposed to ground him. His uncle, Brodie’s father, sold it to him after his grandmother died.”
“This was Zave’s grandmother’s house?”
“Unofficially,” Bess said. “When she died, the house lay empty most of the year. Zave liked the idea of having his own private island and being the king of the castle, so to speak.” Bess sat down. Instead of exuding pride that Zave had achieved so much so young, her expression became almost pitying. “He was wild, incredibly wild. His parents couldn’t control him. The only reason he got through high school at all was because it was so easy for him. Girls gravitated toward him. Seducing them was effortless, he was always a looker. It helped that he was raking in money faster than his friends could spend it. After Brodie’s parents died, we discussed bringing Brodie to come and stay here, but the two of them together would’ve been too much.”
“Brodie’s parents died when he was a child?”
“A teenager,” Bess said. “Guardianship was willed to my brother. It didn’t take us long to see it would never work. I had Thad on my own, we weren’t a part of Zave’s circle then. We were common, decent folk. Zave was arrogant, ostentatious. He threw parties that lasted for days. Despite his parents’ objections, he brought dozens of people to stay here. It’s a wonder he got his company started at all.”
His company? “But he did?”
“Mostly because of his father, who ring-fenced the money and restricted Zave to a generous allowance when he was a minor. Every time he threatened to sue for emancipation, they gave him a little more and then a little more. Owen Knight, Zave’s father, worked hard to build up that company and to establish their impeccable reputation, despite their volatile moneymaker.”
Zave didn’t seem like the type to throw crazy parties or the type to be arrogant above his station either. Although she couldn’t refute that he was educated and intelligent enough that a superiority complex could probably be warranted.
But he wasn’t a crazy party animal now. “What changed?”
“The parties, the girls, the drugs, it got worse through his teenage years. But he kept inventing because it was his passion. I don’t know how many of the early Knight Corp inventions were envisioned during the drug-fueled orgies that went on here. Even his parents moved out, no one could control him, then he started to get pissed off with the way his father was running the company and they had a falling out. Not enough to drive one or the other from the company, but it forced Zave to start showing up more than he had before.”
Knight Corp, that was Zave’s company. “So he straightened out?” Devon asked.
Bess sighed. “I wish it was that easy. Instead of being juvenile and throwing the equivalent of frat parties, his tastes became more glamorous. He threw exclusive, ostentatious events, like he was trying to shock his family and the press. There were costume events, he treated this place like a palace court, they got quite extreme and he became known for his fetish parties.”
“Fetish?” Devon asked, and once again she felt heat burn beneath her face.
“The truth is, I don’t know specifics of what happened here. All I know is the women he took to tropical islands on private planes were sleek and classy, and wrapped in designer gear. He was still as arrogant, he didn’t reach out to the family. He held himself above everyone else, dismissed us, believed himself to be better and in a lot of ways, he was.”
“Because he was making so much money from his inventions?”
Bess nodded. “It was effortless for him, it still is. Somehow when he sees a problem or has an idea, he can immediately put something together. He takes more time these days in his crafting because he’s learned to appreciate the process. Back then, he could just close his eyes, imagine something, and soon after it would be in production. Success chased him, not the other way around. All he had to do was wish it and it came true. He didn’t have to work hard or think about marketing, his father dealt with the practical aspects of the business.”
So while the rest of the world had to work hard, Zave lived a life of privilege and ease. “What does he make?”
“Recreational technology mostly. In his younger years, the products were leisure items that he would invent and give out at parties. As he got older, he got more discerning and began to make products for private yachts and secluded villas, luxury technology, you know? Things that would make the lives of the rich easier than they already are. In his twenties, he put on a suit and walked the walk. The media hounded him, but he lapped up the attention back then.”
The media? Could that be why he’d been nervous about revealing himself to her and why the name Xavier Knight had sparked recognition in her mind? He’d been worried she could recognize him.
Except Devon didn’t pay much attention to the business pages. And the time Bess was talking about was ten years ago, maybe more, long before Devon would’ve had a smartphone with twenty-four-hour news pinging up at regular intervals.
In her early twenties, she didn’t have a fridge, let alone a TV or phone. The only reason she had a phone before her abduction was because her brother paid the bill for her. She would never be able to afford such a luxury on her own.
“He wore the suit and had the fancy office,” Bess said. “Women flocked around him. He was invited to every exclusive event and chose to only go to a handful ensuring his presence was notable every time he attended something. Being rich and handsome, he was everything a stereotypical eligible bachelor could be.”
Devon struggled to imagine how he could go from that to what he was now. A man who didn’t leave his island, who didn’t want even her here and who chose to spend most of his life on his own.
What began to make sense was why the cartels accepted him. Zave had money, and it wouldn’t take them long to figure that out. He’d made news with his parties and was known for enjoying women, and indulging in fetishes. The cartel wouldn’t ask questions about where all these women were going after he bought them.
They probably assumed he had a harem or that he was slicing them into little pieces and scattering them across his private island. Zave had the perfect cover for what he did, especially now that he was a recluse. Except Bess had said Bronwyn’s death brought him out of his seclusion.
“If he was such a playboy,” Devon said. “So full of himself and uncaring, what made him choose to become a hermit?”
Bess became more subdued. “Unfortunately, I can’t answer that. I can tell you the event that sparked it,” Bess said. With one hand under Devon’s, the other stroked the top. But Devon didn’t know if Bess was offering her comfort or taking it instead.
“What happened?”
“His parents died. They died and it was a shock to us all, none more so than to Zave, who believed himself invincible. He believed nothing bad could ever happen to him or around him. Then suddenly in a flash, they were gone. I don’t know what went through his head. We weren’t close. Not at all. Except he was alone and no matter how much of a cocky idiot he was, he is family. It didn’t take us long to see that he wasn’t going to face his first real trial with courage.”
�
��That’s awful,” Devon said, thinking of how horrific his first experience of grief was.
“For months, Brodie was the only person he would speak to, maybe because Brodie lost his parents when he was young, so they could identify with each other. Zave was in his twenties, but he took it just as hard. The poor boy didn’t have a childhood, but he’d been blessed with wealth and intelligence. His charmed life had seemed untouchable, and then just like that, he was alone without siblings, without parents. Maybe it just hit him how superficial everything in his life was. He stopped going to the office, and it was his father’s trusted colleagues who kept the corporation going.”
“It still exists?”
“Knight Corp? Yes, and it’s about to get bigger,” Bess said. “It’s in the midst of merging with a company that Brodie just inherited and has no interest in, so he’s signing all control over to his cousin. Zave still makes the corporate decisions at KC, he just does it on speakerphone from here and doesn’t go to the office. He hasn’t been in the Knight Corp building for a long time. He limits his interaction with his colleagues to just a few. He never leaves this island unless it’s for Kindred business.”
Anyone with knowledge of Knight Corp or the business world might recognize Zave while he was at these auctions. The risk he took with his reputation and his livelihood were great. In light of this, limiting his contact with the women they saved seemed smart. Except she had a feeling his reserve was more about his aversion to conversation than his concerns about being exposed.
Some of the blurred edges were becoming crisper. “The death of his parents,” Devon murmured. “He shut himself up in this house and that’s how he became what he is now?”
“Thad and I moved in here to give him support. I had to make sure he was eating and looking after himself, which of course, he wasn’t. Every day was a battle. And Thad had to deal with plenty on his own while I was busy trying to support Zave,” Bess said, so solemn that it was obvious she was still affected by that time. “But we pulled through as a family. Brodie did his best to get Zave to open up, and eventually he started coming down to eat with us every once in a while. Brodie and my brother, Art, stayed here as often as they could. Zave joined us more when Brodie was here. But he spent most of his time alone in his private part of the house, tinkering. Because those devices are not just his trade now, they keep him sane.”
Falcon (Kindred #5) Page 12
