Chapter 10 - 14
It’s been two weeks since the incident at Kelsey’s house. And less than two months away until Bahadur’s secret party that no one knows the location to. Only on the day of the party will he be sending out vehicles to fetch every guest. Vance is not happy about the timeline being moved up, but not unhappy enough to go against his father. And despite the debacle surrounding that, all that’s been on my mind is someone that has no place being in it.
Botan.
He’s reached out. Many times. Texts and calls that go unanswered because I fear I might cave to whatever lies he would whisper, even when knowing the truth. Even if I told my dad, there is nothing he could do. He can’t exactly tell a die hard thug to back off.
"Argh."
Silas’s voice snaps me back to reality. Frank opens the car door for my father and we all climb out. A guard is posted at the front door and another mills around the yard. Colton’s men are no longer hiding. They follow me everywhere I go. Everywhere. Except inside the house.
"That was the longest ceremony. Ever," Silas says with a tortured groan. "That’s going to cost you, old man," he says, pulling dad into an aggressive side hug. "That took at least two years off my life."
Dad chuckles. "Who you calling old?"
We approach the front door, and the guard opens it without looking.
"These came in for you this morning, Miss Du Pont."
The moment I step through the heavy oak doors into the house, the air shifts. The scent of flowers—once sweet, now oppressive—fills my lungs, thick and heady like perfume left out too long. The entryway is vast, but it feels claustrophobic, suffocated by an overwhelming presence of black. Every surface is consumed by flowers. Roses, lilies, orchids have all been dyed or dipped in the deepest shades of black. Their velvety petals shimmer like obsidian, an eerie reflection of light in the bright room. Some are arranged in elaborate displays along the walls, while others cascade in bouquets from the ceiling, as though the house itself is weeping black flora.
The entryway spills into the living room, where the scene intensifies. It’s a strange, otherworldly plethora. The black blooms claim every inch of space, from the floor to the ceiling. There’s barely a glimpse of the original décor—the furniture is drowned in this sea of black petals.
I hear their voices, but even though they’re close, the boys’ voices are like distant echoes. Too mesmerized for my senses to take anything in but the exquisite flowers.