Chapter 4

4

NIALL

J ake was my assistant, but over the course of the last couple years, he’d also become a friend. Only when we weren’t on company time or property, though. We kept things professional at the office. I desperately didn’t want to create a company culture in which everyone expected me to be their pal, or got upset if I wasn’t.

He was the only person I hung out with socially, and even though tonight, for instance, he was coming over to work, I always felt more at ease being on a friendly basis with him at my home. Now he just has to get his ass over here so we can start the second shift of the day.

After showing Tallulah around the Carmichael Plantation, I spent the rest of the afternoon in meetings. Exhausted by the time I finally got home to the Rampart Mansion, I dropped my keys and wallet with a clatter on the table in the foyer.

Pausing for a moment, I took a beat to really look around again. I knew what all those tourists saw when they walked in here, and I also knew it wasn’t the same thing I saw. For me, this was home. A home that had been built in the classic gothic revival style, with its pointed arches and vaulted ceilings. I loved the brocade patterns on the floor tiles and the play of light and shadows inside on account of the ceilings being so high.

When I’d moved in, I’d had an interior designer modernize my living spaces a little bit. She’d spruced up the public areas as well, and honestly, I knew that when tourists walked in here, they stared at the wide staircase leading down from above and expected an apparition to come floating toward them, but all I saw was the comfort of knowing that my bedroom was right upstairs.

For years now, I’d lived here happily, opening the house up for tours only as a way to honor the role the place had played in the city’s history. It had been a long time since I’d even thought about it as supposedly being haunted, but that crazy girl had put the idea of ghosts back in my head. I didn’t spook easily, but if ghosts were going to hang out anywhere, it would be at a house like this.

I sighed and shook my head as I strode across the foyer to the kitchen, my footsteps echoing in the quiet of the house. My kitchen was off limits for the tours, and it was just as well, considering that I’d had it completely renovated.

It now had all the most modern appliances, white quartz countertops, and a huge island with stools all around it. I didn’t entertain much, but I found I was more comfortable doing it in here when the occasion called for it.

Striding to the little bar I’d had put in where the breakfast nook used to be, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers, and carried it all with me to the island. Sitting down, I poured a stiff drink and nursed it while I waited for Jake to arrive.

I was as fascinated as the next person with the darker side of history, but I wouldn’t intentionally go and seek out the paranormal. Tallulah, however, seemed to do just that. She clearly got a kick out of the whole haunted-house thing.

In my case, I didn’t mind living in a house rumored to be inhabited by several spirits, but I’d bought it for its architecture and meaning rather than anything else. Not that it mattered. In all the time I’d lived here, there hadn’t been so much as a creak of a floorboard or a slamming door.

In my opinion, the haunting of this particular house was a rumor that had been started by the Ramparts themselves. Before I’d bought it, I’d read that the family had fallen upon hard times at various stages of their history, and I was pretty sure they’d made up the eyewitness accounts of spirits in order to encourage those who would pay for a tour and discourage potential predatory buyers.

Personally though, I could’ve done without the reminder she’d so nonchalantly given me. I sat up straight on my stool, relishing the burn of my whiskey as it slid down my throat, but also more alert than I had been in a while just sitting here.

When my front door banged shut, I jumped in my seat. Jake came sauntering into the kitchen like he hadn’t done anything wrong.

I scowled at him. “Did you have to slam it?”

He set down the folders he’d brought and poured himself a healthy tumbler of whiskey. “It was the poltergeists. What’s up with you? You look a little freaked out.”

“And you look like you need to mind your own business,” I muttered. “What are you even doing here?”

He laughed. “I thought we were looking over the arrangements for the festival tonight. Also, you asked me to come. How long have you been drinking?”

“This is my first.” I took another long drink as I looked right at him. “But I’m gonna need another to deal with you tonight.”

Jake grinned, used to my occasionally sour moods. He knew I didn’t mean it. “For this festival, there’s no such thing as too many spirits.”

My company oversaw the restoration of both commercial and residential buildings in New Orleans and all surrounding areas, but right then, our main focus was on the festival. It brought in a ton of money each year and people paid big bucks to stay a night at the plantation house during the event, which meant that everything needed to be perfect.

Every year since I’d purchased the Carmichael Plantation, the festival had been gaining traction. Our hope was that this year would be the biggest yet.

Despite the appointment of our new project manager, Jake and I needed to make sure our ducks were in a row. The crazy girl could just move on if we suddenly got a slew of bad reviews following the event, but I couldn’t have my name or that of my company tarnished that way.

“How did your meeting with Tallulah go earlier?” Jake asked as he settled down across the island from me. “Was I right, or was I right? She’s perfect for the job.”

“Just a question,” I said mildly. “Where the fuck did you find this woman?”

He paused for a moment. “Why, because she’s so perfect that we should’ve found her months ago?”

“No, because she might just be criminally insane,” I retorted, completely deadpan. “I have half a mind to get a private investigator to look into her. Just so we can say we did our due diligence if the shit hits the fan.”

A deep crease appeared between his eyebrows. Then he suddenly burst out laughing. “Relax, dude. She’s not insane. She’s just passionate, especially about all this old spooky stuff.”

“You do know there’s an entire category called crimes of passion , right? No one is disputing that she’s passionate. I’m just worried about what she does in the heat of that passion. She might not be right in the head.”

He snorted as he tried to hold back more laughter. “Why do you say that? I think she’s great. She’s different. A little quirky, sure, but all the best people are.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. I’d never met anyone like Tallulah Pruette, and honestly, I wasn’t sure what to make of her. So far, I’d learned that she was tough—she wouldn’t have accepted the guest house if she wasn’t—and that she was witty. A few times, she’d even almost made me smile with her wisecracks, which had also proven to me that she was sharp as a tack, but still.

She definitely wasn’t intimidated by me in the slightest, which honestly intimidated me a little in turn. It was confusing, not knowing which box to put her in.

Eventually, I just shook my head at my friend. “Quirky is certainly one way of putting it. She worries me, Jake.”

“You’re an introvert,” he said, as if that should either explain everything or mean something to me.

I stared at him. “So?”

“So, she’s not,” he said. “She’s outgoing and bubbly. She grabs life by the horns and she’s insanely creative about it. You, on the other hand, are the complete opposite.”

“Are you calling me quiet and boring?”

He sipped his drink before he smirked at me. “Maybe, but the point is that you’re not scared of her. You’re intimidated by her.”

“Only because she’s not intimidated by me.”

“Nope, that’s not it,” he said, apparently far too happy about this turn of events. “Think about it, Niall. You keep to yourself. You’re one of those rude, mysterious, eccentric billionaire types with a secret heart of gold and a penchant for philanthropy and community. You’re like a marshmallow encased in a cactus.”

“Wow. A cactus, huh? That’s nice. Keep the compliments coming.”

He laughed. “All I’m saying is that you’re a good guy, but you don’t want anyone to know it. You’re more comfortable if people are intimidated by you because that means they won’t get too close. Tallulah scares you because she wouldn’t be scared to get close and push your boundaries.”

“I get close to women all the time.” At least a few times a month, but Jake didn’t need the granular details. “I’m not scared of them . That woman, however, is something else.”

“Sure, but you’re not scared of her either. You’re just not used to people like her. I promise you, she’s going to be good for us. You made the right call hiring her. This is going to be our best festival yet.”

He’d been swearing that up and down since the first time he’d mentioned her to me. As I took another long drink, I still didn’t know if I believed him. “Let’s see what she does. In the meantime, keep a close eye on her. We cannot afford for her quirkiness to ruin our reputation.”

“It won’t,” he promised. “I’ll make sure of it, but you can trust her, Niall. I do. Just ease up a little and let her do her thing. With a little guidance from us, she’s going to knock it out of the park.”

I nodded, but for the rest of the evening, even as we got to work, my thoughts were on her. This was her first night in that house and I had the urge to talk to her. To check in on her. Suddenly, I wasn’t even sure if I liked the fact that she was staying on that big property alone at night.

I didn’t know why I cared at all. She had chosen to stay there, and she’d done so excitedly and without reservation, and yet, while I knew I had to stay focused on my work, those hazel eyes kept drifting across the front of my mind.

Tallulah Pruette had managed to infiltrate my thoughts, my company, and even my house. Her presence in my life was new but it felt like she’d already wedged herself into every aspect of it.

I just wasn’t sure yet if she was a blessing or a curse.