I head back to Isabella’s enclosure, not waiting to see if Yasmin follows behind and honestly not caring if she does. Stepping into the room, I walk over and open the side before moving to the chair that’s sitting against the far side of the room. I wait to see if Isabella comes out and eventually she does, her body slithering along the floor until she curls at my feet, her head coming up to my leg. I reach down and give her a pet, an unusual feeling filling my chest.
“I’m a married man, Isa. Can you believe it?” I say. “But don’t be jealous. You’re still my number one girl.”
Isabella’s head rests on my knee and I know it’s ridiculous to keep talking to her, but I do anyway. Over the years, she’s become my closest confidante, my partner in crime, the only living being that I trust implicitly.
“Besides, she’s temporary,” I remind us both.
The words are bitter on my tongue.
Chapter25
Yasmin
I’ve spent the last four days picking random areas of the house to explore. It’s not as big as my father’s estate— not much is— but it’s still large enough that I get lost.
Besides, it’s rude that Julian hasn’t given me a tour when he expects me to just sit here like a prisoner in solitude all day long.
There’s the formal dining room off the foyer that leads into the kitchen. It’s an open floor plan, which I like, opening to the family room that I’ve been actively avoiding ever since I drank too much a week ago and let the enemy get too close.
There’s a large office on the other side, and I spent all Tuesday afternoon snooping around it, but most of the desk drawers were locked, so it got boring quickly.
Wednesday, I explored the rest of the rooms on my side of the house. There are three more guest bedrooms, a large library with floor- to- ceiling bookshelves, and the small sitting area in the back next to a baby grand piano. It’s beautiful but looks almost completely untouched.
I’ve never really been a reader, but after spending the rest of the evening there getting lost in the classics, I think I might start.
Yesterday, I went on a walk around the grounds, needing to dosomethingother than breathe in the stuffy inside air. I didn’t venture too far, since we’re way up in the hills and surrounded by trees. Plus, I don’t do too well in nature for extended periods of time. I’ve never really been a “let’s go camping” kind of girl.
Today, I’m finally going to venture into the other side of the house, try to find my husband’s bedroom and see into the vulnerable side of Julian Faraci. It’s the one place I’ve been wary of going, but if I’m going to find something that I can use against him, that’s my bet of where it’s going to be.
Besides, hedidsay that’s what his is mine, and I’m going to take his words literally.
Being here, acting like I’m okay with everything that’s happening until I can get away to meet with Riya, is a much longer game than I originally thought I was going to be playing. It’s difficult, and my mind muddles up fact from fiction.
My entire life, I’ve been used to instant gratification. Used to asking for something and it being handed to me on a silver platter. I can admit that my privilege has gotten me far in life. But as I sit here, stuck in an empty house with no one here and no way to leave even if I wanted, I realize just how much the protective shield my father surrounded me with is more of a crutch than a blessing.
I’ve never learned simple life skills. I’ve never had to practice waiting for something and not having the ability to control when and how it lands.
This entire situation is the biggest lesson in patience.
I hate it.
I head across the hall, my hand sliding along the shiny wood banister of the open catwalk that connects the two wings, and straight back to the door that Ithinkis Julian’s room. Nerves jump and sizzle in my body, and I shake them off, annoyed that I feel like I’m doing something wrong. And maybe a little afraid that there will be repercussions I don’t want to face if he comes home and catches me snooping.
My hand wraps around the doorknob and I push it open, half expecting it to be locked. It isn’t, and I step inside, heat and humid air hitting me in the face.
Immediately I can tell this isn’t his bedroom.
The lighting is low, but my eyes aren’t paying attention to that. Instead, they go to the large enclosure on the far side of the room. It takes up theentirewall, and it has a glass front.
I walk closer, taking in the half logs scattered along the enclosure’s floor and the large tree branches that look strategically placed throughout it.
A muted noise makes my heart skip and I walk closer, leaning in and squinting to try to see what the hell is in there. It’s obviously an animal of some sort.
A hiss catches me off guard, my heart shooting to my throat.
Does he own a fucking snake?
“She won’t bite.”
