Chapter 31

A suffocating pressure sits atop my chest as I pull open the drapes in the study and watch the snowstorm obliterate the world in a tempest of white. The wind is restless, a vengeful spirit battering against the windows, begging to be let in, to spread its deathly chill to the inhabitants of the estate.

The same restlessness lives inside me as I clutch the speech I’m supposed to make in a few hours in my hand. Lana and the PR think tank drafted the quick speech that should be easy to do. Should being the operative word. They might as well be asking me to climb Mount Everest.

I can feel the stirrings of another monster trying to claw itself out of my chest.

“Sir Maxwell, your family just arrived. Should I bring them here?” Morris asks from behind me.

“We’re barging in, whether he likes it or not!” Rex announces seconds later, completely disregarding Morris’s traditional efforts to keep them in the sitting room while he finds me to announce their arrival.

Smirking, I turn around, grateful for Rex and his usual antics as a distraction from my dark mood. “Rex, nice of you to show up on time today.”

“It’s too early for my taste. If it weren’t for Ethan and Lana dragging me out of bed, I would’ve shown up later.”

“It’s five in the afternoon.”

“On a Saturday . ”

“Did someone just say my name?” Lana exclaims before sweeping into the room with a sly smile on her face. Her navy gown billows behind her. She strides up to me and gives me a hug.

I feel Morris’s intense stare as I return her embrace and I give him a nod, telling him it’s okay. A flash of sadness appears on his face before he returns my acknowledgment and leaves the room. I frown, not sure what that’s all about.

“I said you are a cockblocker, Lana. Hold on, is that what you say when someone stops you from getting pussy? Or is it pussy blocker?” Rex looks sincerely confused. It’d almost be funny if I weren’t so distracted by my upcoming speech.

“Oh fuck. The Anderson manners are wasted on you, Rex,” Ethan grumbles and rolls his eyes heavenward before helping himself to a drink at the wet bar.

“We aren’t in the eighteenth century anymore! Live a little!” Rex waggles his brows.

“The term is still cockblocker, by the way,” Lana chimes in happily as she slings her arm around Rex’s neck. “You have horrible taste in women.”

Rex has to lean down in order for her to loop her arm around his neck and the two squabble the way they’ve always had growing up, the duo as thick as thieves.

“I’m not marrying her! She’s a supermodel, Lana. Emphasis on the super. Ten out of ten. Those perky tits. That round ass.” Rex smirks and waggles his brows.

“Ew. How am I related to you? I guess you overlooked how she blackmailed three of her ex-boyfriends in the past. I don’t want to bail you out from some PR scandal.”

“Blackmail? Is there something I should know?” a deep voice sounds from the doorway.

Elias Kent leans against the frame, his fingers fiddling with an ornate lighter—something I’ve seen him carry around everywhere even though the man doesn’t smoke. He lifts his head and turns toward us, his lips curved in a ghost of a smile.

“Rex and Lana are just getting into their usual fights, no blackmail. Your services aren’t necessary,” I reply, watching his attention turn toward my squabbling siblings, with Lana throwing her head back in laughter as she says something that’s making Rex’s ears turn red.

“I see.” He stares for a beat longer than necessary and I frown, trying to figure out who he’s focusing on with his lasered attention.

Elias straightens and cracks the joints on his neck before murmuring, “Well, I want to wish you good luck on the speech today. And I’m having the issues looked into. You should’ve contacted me sooner. The trail grows cold over time, but my men will update me as they get more info.”

I was hoping I’d get to the bottom of things without his services . They usually come with a hefty non-monetary price tag.

“Thanks. I know I can count on you to get to the bottom of this.”

Despite Elias being the ruler of the New York underground, the infamous mobster everyone is fearful of, he has been a friend of our family ever since he appeared in our lives a long time ago after a chance encounter when Ryland and I saved his life.

Ever since then, he’s been a dark shadow lurking in the background, a silent sentinel who has helped our family out of a bind a few times, from assisting Steven with the hostile takeover situation of his father’s company to supporting Millie and Ryland when the scandal of their professor and student relationship broke to the press half a year ago. He has even invested in The Orchid and handles the staffing of the people working on the Rose floors, voluntarily , of course. He abhors human and sexual trafficking.

A villain with morals.

He may be dangerous, but I trust him.

I walk to the man, who is preparing to leave, and ask, “Could it just be an accident?” The thought doesn’t make me feel any better because of the curse, but it’s better than someone actively out there trying to hurt Belle.

“Maybe, but I don’t believe in coincidences. Oil slick on stairs? A burst pipe that happened in a brand-new building? And you obviously have your concerns or you wouldn’t have called me.”

“Nothing came up for Bob Heines? I didn’t get too much other than suspected illegal activities in my background check.” He’s the former boss everyone seems to hate at the shelter.

Elias shakes his head. “Lowlife with gambling debts who has a few low-level politicians in his pocket. He’s scum but doesn’t know anything.”

“You sure? Belle’s friends seem to think he has something to do with the incident.”

Elias turns toward me, a chill falling across his features. The vertical scar spanning one side of his face twitches. The silent, lethal assassin.

His lips curl up on one side and he murmurs, out of earshot of the others in the room, “Trust me. I made sure he was telling the truth.”

I swallow, not needing any more clarification from him. I don’t care what methods he used to get his information—I’ll kill anyone who hurts my family.

Fuck. I’m thinking of her as my family.

“Thank you.” I clasp his shoulder.

He nods and walks off, disappearing into the dark shadows of the corridor.

“The man is a phantom, I tell you,” Rex comments, suddenly appearing behind me. “What were you guys talking about? It looked serious.”

“Nothing.” I don’t want them worried about Belle…or me. They don’t need to know I suspect something nefarious is going on.

Less than a minute later, Ryland and Steven walk toward us. Like us, they’re dressed to the nines, and Ryland is laughing at something Steven is saying, whose tall frame shaking with mirth .

A warmth seeps into my chest as I see my twin happy—the type of happiness that can’t be faked—a transformation I’ve witnessed ever since he’s embraced his life’s passion as a professor and gotten together with Millie.

My mind shifts to Sydney again, to that conversation a long time ago, the one I never told him I overheard. Like me, he was devastated when she died, and I’ve always wondered if he held any resentment toward me.

If it weren’t for me, they could’ve been together. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been on the boat that night.

She wouldn’t have been subjected to the curse.

As if sensing my thoughts, damn twin-sense, his gaze flickers to mine, his brows pinching in concern. I shake my head and smile. I’m fine .

He grins and tugs the leather bracelet on his wrist, its matching partner on my arm, a present I gave him during a trip to Ireland. It has an inscription:

“Let all that you do be done in love.”

- 1 Corinthians 13:4

We’re brothers. We’ll always be fine.

And he’s so damn happy right now. The love and contentment radiating from him is almost infectious. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted for him.

“Want to run the speech by us?” Steven asks, his black hair glinting almost blue under the bluish daylight.

“I don’t think that’s going to matter. I’ve already practiced with Belle.” My lips quirk into a smile as I think of my wife and how patient and encouraging she was with me these last few weeks when we worked on the speech over and over again. “And frankly, I’m always comfortable around you guys. It’s the crowd of vultures out there I can’t predict. ”

“I have faith in you,” Ryland says and pats my shoulder. “We’re all here for you. Just focus on us if you need to stare at someone later on.”

“Or you can look at my handsome face and all will be fine,” Rex quips and waggles his brows, and we all groan.

Crash!

Glass shards explode into the room, followed by a thunderous roar. Lana’s screams pierce the air as Rex shoves her behind him. I recoil from the noise, the mournful wail of the wind bellowing into the room, flinging torrents of snow inside.

Papers whirl off my desk and books topple off the shelves as nature’s fury invades the study.

“Fuck! What was that?” Rex exclaims. He swipes his hand over a few small cuts on his jaw from the glass shards before tending to Lana, who looks shaken but otherwise unharmed.

We all stare at the room that was pristine a moment ago but is now a victim of the murderous snowstorm—the debris and wreckage strewn about in a random act of violence.

A thick, skeletal tree branch is lodged through one of the broken windows.

My heart lurches to my throat. It can’t be.

“Shit, we should’ve refurbished these windows a long time ago,” Ryland comments as he walks toward the mess. He snakes a nervous glance at me but doesn’t say anything. I know he’s thinking what I’m thinking.

The branch. The broken windows. The omen.

“Double panes like the ones at The Orchid,” Steven adds, oblivious to the tension. He examines the large branch. “It must’ve been from one of the trees outside the window or something.”

Ice fills my veins as I stare at the gnarly branch, unable to move, unable to breathe.

The curse , the winds seem to wail. Stay away from her.

The warmth from minutes ago is swiftly replaced by a bone-chilling fear, which is seeking my panic as its macabre dance partner .

I tug my bow tie. I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe.

Stay away…

“Oh God, it’s happening again,” Agnes whispers next to me, her skin as pale as a ghost. She must’ve come in during the commotion. Beside her, Morris is standing tall, his face grim. A muscle pulses in his jaw.

“The curse.” She moves her hand to her forehead and chest—a sign of the cross—and closes her eyes, her mouth moving rapidly and I hear her whispered words of prayer.

It can’t be.

Sydney, her green eyes unseeing, her mouth parted as if opened in a silent scream, her blond hair tangled and her pale skin blue. Her lifeless body sprawled on the beach.

Sweat gathers on my forehead. I shake myself.

It can’t be. I haven’t fallen in love with her. I won’t fall in love with her.

My heart seizes, the escalating pain in my chest eviscerating.

The staff struggle to block off the shattered windows with a tarp as the storm surges outside, battering against the centuries’ old structure, the violence unrelenting, the outdoors a nightmare in monochrome white.

The image of Sydney transforms into one of Belle, her eyes brimming with tears, her lips parted in terror as she reaches for me. It’s like my dreams of the woman in the rose garden, but this time I see her face clearly. A darkness lurks behind Belle, dragging her into a bottomless black hole as she screams for me.

And I’m helpless, my hands and feet bound tightly, unable to move even as my heart splinters into a thousand pieces.

“No, no, no, it can’t be,” I whisper under my breath, shutting my eyes.

I can’t love her.

She can’t leave me.

Not this time .

The thought materializes in the back of my mind, a ghostly whisper, like a wraith from a past I’m not privy to.