Chapter One
"Is that the eviction notice?" Ben joked.
He sat on the couch in the apartment living room. Since Purge night, weeks passed. Late on rent again and barely scraping to buy food, they worked to clean up the Purge's aftermath and then Ben successfully interviewed for a security guard job at the local shipping warehouse. Earning $15 an hour, it promised to keep them in the apartment long enough for the real game plan of survival to formulate.
Callisto Carter glared at him.
His eyes locked on the smartphone screen. "Any day now."
She prayed they didn't shut off the water or else they'd be forced out earlier than expected.
"Ghost says hi."
"Send him my best." She said and massaged her temple. A headache brewed and they ran out of ibuprofen last week.
Using a paring knife, she slit open the envelope and fished out a pristine single sheet of paper listing a five figure pay out, job description, and start and end dates of the contract. Her eyes bulged and she flipped it over curiously. A phone number tempted her fingers to stray toward a smartphone identical to Ben's.
"He's asking if you were hired at the assisted living home."
"No. They found someone to fill the administration role."
"You'd think they'd at least give you an HR position given how you've protected the place."
"Small place of employment…" She mumbled, her mind racing.
$70,000 after taxes. A literal miracle landed in her lap, and paranoia prevented her from truly enjoying it.
Nathaniel Lawson broke her. Almost dying at his hands and faced with their mother's death, she trusted nothing to be without strings. Surviving Purge night by refusing to die at Danny's hands earned her a reprieve, except in the pit of her stomach she knew – something wasn't right.
Ben moved from the couch to the kitchen counter. "Slick took over Danny's business. Ghost can't slide us the cash."
"That's okay. I didn't expect any compensation anyway. Is he safe?"
"For now."
"Maybe Ghost can move in with us." She volunteered.
"And have Slick hunt us down?"
An uncomfortable silence settled over them and she handed him the card. "Tell me what to do, Ben. Is it real? A cruel joke?" She turned the black smartphone over in her hand, anxiety attacking the already fried nerves.
He traced his finger over the high-quality card stock and indented black print. "Can't hurt to call, right?"
Callisto raked her fingers through her hair. "Wish me luck." She crossed her fingers and zombie walked to her bedroom. Passing their mother's bedroom, a closed off memorial pristinely cleaned and dusted once a week, she wanted nothing more than to know where Butterball was and if he was still alive. Whoever let her cat out deserved to die.
Laying on the bed, she dialed the provided number and admired the amount on the front again.
A minute later, a sweet female voice answered. "Rynald Investments."
"I'm sorry." She compared the card to her phone screen. "I must have the wrong number."
The woman paused, clacking, and then spoke again. "Are you Miss Carter?"
Callisto stilled and a chill overtook her blood. "Should I be worried?"
"No. Mr. Rynald found your portfolio online and thought the designs suitable. He wishes to take a risk on your inexperience hoping you'll bring fresh ideas to his manor."
It didn't matter what the disembodied female said. Callisto believed none of it.
"Are you accepting the job offer?" The innocent question triggered a deep-rooted newfound fear in the pit of her chest.
She lost all her weapons and they literally pinched pennies. Back rent haunted them, and Layla and Rory had their own problems to handle. Carters survived.
Her jaw worked. "How large scale is the job?"
"Mr. Rynald will restrict your creative genius room by room."
"Length of contract?"
"Mr. Rynald may extend the contract or offer you other responsibilities to continue your employment. I cannot accurately answer that question."
Her gut untwisted and Callisto sat up. She felt like hell, but life improved significantly when faced with death knocking at the door. Nightmares disrupted sleep and waking only to Ben chugging down coffee and combatting his own demons rarely permitted her an easy night's rest.
"What's the catch?" She demanded, pinching the bridge of her nose to distract from the nagging voice shouting "Trap!"
"Mr. Rynald is the best of employers, Miss. There is no catch. He intends to hire you for the year and allow you to nurture your talent while providing a means of living."
"When do I start?" She resigned.
"As soon as the paperwork is filled out, I can then contact Mr. Rynald and send you an email with the date, time, and location to meet him- "
"I don't have a car." Callisto said.
"He can send a car and driver. The location of his estate is not far from your home address."
Of course. Miracle or not, this wreaked of a frame up job or a set up for something worse. She needed the damned money, and a year's employment allowed them the opportunity to find their feet.
"Are you ready to provide the information we need? I can transfer you to an assistant." Callisto accepted and prayed from the depths of her soul to whatever power existed that this wasn't a trap, frame up, or set up. A half hour later and light chatter about the weather, she hung up and bowed her head. A weight lifted off her shoulders.
Tears rolled down her cheeks and she wiped them away.
A knock at the door snapped her out of it and she welcomed Ben into her room. He sat at the end of the bed, mindful to keep his shoes off the blankets. "The verdict."
"It's fishy…but $70,000 after taxes is better than nothing." She said. "At best we can find another place to live. New start. New lives."
"Should I tag along?"
"No." She shook her head and breathed. "You have your job and if we don't pay the back rent, we'll never escape this place and find a new one."
He played a YouTube video of kittens and puppies meeting for the first time. Bumbling furry babies amused him.
"Besides, I can help put you through proper security training and you can find a better paying job – maybe in the city."
The booming industry of security extended to training schools established in every major city across the country. Known for the low tuition costs and boasting of 100% post-graduation job placement made it a popular option for teenagers graduation high school and people of little means.
"Maybe buy a house." Callisto said.
He scoffed. "The banks wouldn't risk it."
She glanced at the clock and wished it wasn't so late. Ben needed sleep and she ached to fully sleep through the night without waking in a sweat or panic. "I'm expecting a ride tomorrow to visit the house. A Mr. Rynald. Who is Mr. Rynald?"
"How do you spell Rynald?"
"To hell if I know." She stressed. "I'm going to shower and then go to bed. Leftovers in the fridge. Layla will be by tomorrow to drop off my clothes I left at her house. I'll call you if I don't make it home before nightfall."
Fist bumping, Ben wished her a good night and left her to the torture of 'what-ifs'.
A half past 7 am, Callisto woke, showered, and readied her nerves. Putting on her beige pencil skirt, black closed toe heels, and a pretty black and white floral blouse, Callisto curled her hair and splashed the most expensive perfume she owned on her throat, wrists, and breasts before slipping on the business black trench coat and waited the half hour for the driver. In her black briefcase, she carried a physical copy of her portfolio, plus disc copies.
"You're looking pretty." Ben poured himself coffee.
She grabbed a banana from the countertop. "First impressions are important."
"Why don't you try for an office job in the city?"
"And commute?" She shook her head, curls bouncing. "Can't afford the bus pass."
He sighed. "So, this job is the hail mary."
"I wish it weren't, Ben, but it's all we have. I made a promise to Mom that I would take care of you and I will. We will take care of each other. That's what siblings do."
He raised his mug to her. "I'll lock the base down and call you before work."
"If I end up dead or missing, just take care of yourself. The world is different now that people think killing is 'okay'." She air quote and checked her phone. "I'm going downstairs to wait. Hopefully, this offer isn't a lie or set up."
He crossed his fingers and rapped on the cabinet door.
Playing Tetris on her phone, she didn't immediately see the black Lexus until a driver ,dressed in casual slacks and a long sleeve button up, introduced himself. Combed back hair matched the outfit. "You must be Callisto Carter." He held out his hand to her.
She smiled nervously. "That's me."
"I am the driver for Clayton Rynald."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr…"
"Mr. Bromwell."
"Strong last name." She shook his hand. "Shall we?"
He motioned for her to take the front seat. "Sit back and enjoy the ride. Refreshments will be available at the house."
"You mean manor."
He shrugged and held the door open for her. "Ladies first."
Sliding into the front seat, she awkwardly composed her briefcase on her lap and breathed deeply. Last chance to walk away. "Thank you, Mr. Bromwell." They rode in silence occupied by music on the radio. She admired the rural scenery once they escaped the towns and main highways.
The house seemingly pixelated into view as the trees thinned out. One continuous line of windows spanned the bottom floor while the second floor hid behind a wall of horizontal slats shielding the windows behind. Wood and stone siding created a stunning modern house trapped in idyllic woods.
"Mr. Rynald is eager to meet you." The driver said.
"Why?" Everyone praised the mysterious man, and despite the mountains of research the internet dumped into her lap, she learned nothing meaningful other than that Rynald Investments was a relatively new company flush with cash and a positive reputation. Clayton Rynald, a man who disliked being photographed, worked closely with partners in other parts of the world to help create a reliable network of intel for investments.
The car drifted to a gentle stop. "I will open the door for you, Miss Carter." The driver promised.
She twiddled her thumbs, literally, and practically leapt out of the car.
"Miss Callisto Carter." A familiar voice overflowing with warmth and kindness knifed through her defenses. "I thought you would never accept."
TRAP! TRAP! TRAP!
Ignoring the raging devil on her shoulder, she turned toward none other than Nathaniel Lawson. Her lips twitched and defaulted into a thin white line. "Mr. Rynald. I've heard nothing but the best of praises. I am hoping their estimation of you is true." She held out her hand to him.
They squeezed, crushing each other's hands in a tight shake. "First impressions?" He gestured to the majestic building behind him.
What she wanted to say and what she could say in front of the driver dried the wit she relied on since her mother's death. "Gorgeous." She answered simply.
"It lacks pets." His eyes lingered meaningfully. "I need a woman's touch to the interior."
They strolled up the wide paver, inlaid path. Shrubbery hedged off the flower beds full of color and weed free mulch. A pleasant smell toyed with Callisto's nose. He motioned her to enter first, offering a cup of tea in the sunroom as casually as he beat her on Purge night.
White walls, glorious weathered gray wooden floors, and boring paintings covered the walls. Well-made furniture occupied the rooms and sturdy wooden doors stained a weathered gray closed off most of the manor from immediate view. She thought it was acceptable as is, but who was she to question another person's preference in taste? Even if they were an asshole who tried to kill her.
"Do you really want me to design your interior?" She demanded, placing multiple arm's length between them.
"As I said, it is in dire need of a woman's touch." He repeated smoothly. His familiar accent nagged at her – it was British, but from where in England?
Her mouth twitched again, and the words spilled freely. "You're in dire need of a bullet between the eyes."
"I can easily arrange a bullet for you if you don't calm yourself. I have a reputation to uphold." The calm collective manner chilled her blood, the voice screaming "Trap!" repeatedly fading into obscurity. "Pet."
"Who all knows the real you?" Shoving her hands in her pockets, fingers curled into fists.
He gestured to her right. "Archie." A sweaty, shirtless comrade lounged in the doorway to a home gym. "The bodyguards. The servants."
Before she could ask "What servants?" a woman dusted a shelf in a sprawling library.
"So, is murdering people a hobby? Or an addiction?"
Archie removed weightlifting gloves. "You are Sienna's double. After surgery."
"Sienna Rynald." Her nemesis supplied.
"And murder is your first choice of action?" If she died here now, she had no regrets. Working for this asshole for an entire year promised hell she wasn't ready for.
"You wouldn't understand." Exhaustion entered his voice. "She tried to shoot a porn."
Callisto's jaw dropped. "Is that why you tried to kill me?"
"You're an intelligent one, aren't you?" Clayton mocked.
Her eyes narrowed on him and she battled the desire to break his nose then and there.
"Three weeks from now, my cousin will extend an invitation to be in employment as a bodyguard. He'll train under our men and you'll say nothing or forfeit his life." Archie warned.
"I hate both of you."
"It's not personal." Archie shifted more into her view. Her eyes swept over his sculpted form. She hated herself for thinking him attractive and vowed to bleach her brain of the lusting. "We have a guest room."
"One you will use." Clayton stepped into her space. "My driver will return you to your apartment tonight, you will pack your belongings, and move here tomorrow. Your employment papers state you'll be paid weekly. The guest room is rent free. If you need to travel anywhere, my driver or cousin will escort you. Understood?"
"Or Ben's life is forfeit."
"You're a smart one. Pet." He patted her cheek. "Archie will give you the tour."
"I need fresh air." She turned to the front door and speed walked for the open doors. Neither man stopped her, and she stumbled out into the breathtaking tree line and rolling lawn. Her head spun, and she thought only of escape. A hand touched her shoulder and she whirled around face to face with Archie. "What?"
He smiled. "I understand your hesitation, but I am here to help you. Truly."
His soft, alluring voice and British accent shifted the lusting into overdrive. She composed herself and cleared her throat multiple times. "Look, Archie, I know you didn't have much of a hand in what happened, but he – "
"Clayton is a bit of an arse, yes."
"That asshole." She pointed at the front door. "Nearly killed me."
"I know."
"I nearly died."
"I know."
"Stop saying I know. I have a right to be angry, and now you're blackmailing me into cooperation. You want me to just go along with this? As if nothing is wrong?" Her voice broke and she felt off balanced. "My cat is missing, and my mother is dead. We're behind on rent, and my brother is working in a dead-end job trying to put food on the table while our landlord keeps threatening to evict us."
"A pitiable chain of events—"
"No! You do not get to judge me. I have a right to be angry right now. I have a right to express it, and I'm not going to stand by and be called 'Pet' in a mocking manner for an entire year just so he can purge me next year."
Archie nodded along. "The plans have changed. You are quite safe."
"I don't believe you."
"You don't have to. But you are paid to design the interior of this home." He gestured to the home. "Prove your skills and earn your keep. We will not bother you. Upon our honor."
"What honor?"
"Fair enough." He stared straight ahead at the empty drive curving gently back into the woods. "But you will eat dinner with us, and you will mind your emotions. We must coexist in peace."
"I did not ask for this."
"Neither did I, but here we stand. Tour or no tour?" He asked patiently.
She stabbed her finger into his chest. "Don't fuck with me, Archie. Just because my brother is being dragged into this doesn't mean I won't make your or his life a living hell."
He removed the offending finger. "Tour or no tour?"
She clutched her chest. "I need something to drink first."
"Wine- "
"No damned wine." She snapped at him. "Water. I want to drink water."
He motioned her back into the house.