House of Artifice

by Lyn Forester

  Nikola taps at the palm-port’s screen, and the floor flickers to a matte finish. I glance at him in surprise. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be reported?”

  “Mirrored floors are a bad choice when skirts are in fashion.” He shrugs, his broad shoulders relaxing. “Welcome home, Caitlyn.”

  “You as well, Nikola.”

  He glances around the large space, eyes alight as he settles on me. “It’s good to be back.”

  I bite my tongue and smile, unable to lie and say the same. While we are close in age and spent much of our time together growing up in the same house, our memories of this place differ. His mother doted on him whenever she could spare the time away from Father’s side, while my father left me to be raised by others. He found ease and acceptance with the house staff that never extended to me, the heir to the Lonette family.

  He turns toward me with an eager smile. “Shall I show you to your room?”

  Dread spindles through me. “Has it changed?”

  Instead of heading for the stairs, he leads me toward the lift. “You’ve been upgraded to the fourth floor, on the east wing.”

  “What of my possessions?”

  “Everything’s been upgraded to be ready for your new status.” He holds the lift door open and waits for me to step on. “Your father saw to the transfer of possessions himself.”

  My stomach sinks, any hope that my things were boxed up somewhere squashed. Thankfully, when I left for school, I took my most important items with me, but some I had no choice but to leave behind.

  When we arrive on the fourth floor, Nikola turns left off the lift. Up here, hardwood covers the floor. Soft gray wallpaper gives the wide hallway a cozier feel, tasteful portraits of nature evenly dispersed on the walls. The gimmick of holograms left to the public areas of the manor.

  We pass two doorways before we reach the end, and Nikola presses his hand against a palm scanner. The light above the device flashes green before the door slides open.

  I pause at the entrance. “Who all has access to my rooms?”

  Nikola glances back at me, brows arched. “Only myself and your personal maid.”

  Surprise and unease ripple through me. “My father and Nadine?”

  “No.” When he reaches out to cup my elbow and draw me into the room, I fight the immediate desire to flinch away. “I set the codes myself.” He must feel my muscles stiffen because his hand drops back to his side. “These are your private quarters now. Not even the matriarch has access to your living space.”

  I glance around the unfamiliar room. Pale green couches face each other across a glass table, the lines delicate and curved with an elegance I never would have chosen for myself. On the right, behind the seating area, an archway leads into an office space that holds an ivory-colored desk with matching bookcases. On the left, french doors open into the master bedroom, a large canopied bed visible through the opening.

  My focus returns to Nikola. “But you have access here?”

  His dark eyes meet mine. “As long as I’m your acting secretary, I do.”

  My eyes skitter away from his, mind balking at the offer I don’t want to contemplate, let alone take. As I march into the bedroom, plush cream carpet cushions my steps.

  Nikola follows, striding through the doors as if he has every right to be in my sleeping space. My satchel rests on an upholstered bench at the foot of my bed, dark and out of place in the cream and pale-green setting. On one side, a walk-through closet opens into my private bath.

  I nod toward the closed door on the opposite side of the room. “Where does that door lead?”

  “To my quarters, of course.”

  My head goes light as the blood drains from my face. The choice of a secretary should not even begin until I’ve graduated from APA. It’s too soon for this. I planned to be free of this family before their barbaric traditions forced me into this corner.

  “Caitlyn, are you well?” Large hands circle my biceps, and this time I do flinch. His thumbs rub soothing circles against my arms. “Hey, it’s alright, we’ve known each other since we were kids. This is just the next natural step for us.”

  His chest presses against my back, and the wrongness of it shudders through me. It’s not Declan’s warmth, the calm of Connor’s touch, or Felix’s playfulness.

  The need to flee trembles through my legs. I haven’t felt the urge this strong since my sixteenth birthday, when I first learned I’ll be expected to choose a secretary like my father’s. A companion trained in social etiquette and skilled in the bedroom arts in order to fulfill my physical needs.

  My eyes dart from the closed door to my new, untouched bed. Two large pillows rest against the headboard.

  Never given more than one before, the implication is clear. One for me, and one for Nikola.

  YES

  “Please, leave.” Heart pounding in panic, I jerk out of his grasp to turn and meet his surprised eyes. In an instant, I realize my mistake. Maintaining the charade is too important. I hurry to cover my lapse. “I’ve had a long day and wish to relax before the stylist arrives.”

  His expression clears with understanding. “Of course. Let me lay out your nightgown.”

  Before I can protest, he walks into the closet, moving with precision to a row of drawers on the right hand side. He returns a moment later with a pale slip of cloth draped over his arm. The silky material flutters as he moves, almost floating. When he drapes it across the foot of my bed, it becomes a pale shade of green as the comforter’s color shows through.

  Color heats my cheeks. I might as well sleep naked for all the cover that thing will give me. I glance at Nikola. “A robe, too, please.”

  “Of course.” He walks back to the closet. “Would you like slippers, as well? I placed a pair in the warming drawer in case you needed them.”

  “Yes, that would be wonderful.” Pain throbs up through my heels, as if the idea of removing the horrible boots broke through my ability to ignore the discomfort any longer. I push my satchel aside to sit on the bench and pull off the boots.

  “Here, allow me.” Nikola hurries from the closet to kneel in front of me, setting the robe and slippers aside.

  “Please, don’t.” I want him to leave, not find more reasons to stay. “I’m accustomed to clothing and unclothing myself.”

  “But this is part of my service.” He cups my shoe, lifting it into his lap.

  Nimble fingers find the hidden zipper on the side of one boot and drag it down. The pressure against my foot disappears, painful tingles pricking at my toes as blood rushes back into place. I sigh with relief, and he glances up at me through his lashes, dark eyes watchful as he slides the torture device free.

  Delicate fingers trace over my stocking covered heel. “Would you like a foot rub?”

  “No, thank you.” I tug my foot free, uncomfortable with the way he touches me. It’s not the same as my old masseur, nor is it anything like one of my guys. “I’m very tired.”

  “Perhaps a massage?” His head tilts to one side. “To fully relax you?”

  “Tomorrow, if my masseur is available and my schedule allows for the luxury.”

  His lips twitch at my obvious evasion. “Your masseur has found employment in another house. Councillor Lonette did not see the need to keep him on when I am fully trained.”

  He tugs my other boot off, then slides his hands beneath the hem of my skirt. I kick him, hard enough that he rocks back on his heels. Pain flares up from my toes.

  “What are you doing?” With shaky hands, I snap my skirt back over my legs.

  With a rueful smile, he rubs the center of his chest. “Taking off your stockings. You have garters on, yes? That’s the current fashion.”

  My thighs itch where the lace scratches my skin. I squeeze my knees together, eyes narrowing. “I can undress myself.”

  With an exasperated sigh, Nikola shifts positions until he sits cross-legged on the floor and leans back on his hands in an obvious pose of surrender. “Caitlyn, this
is part of my job. We both have roles to play. This is what I’ve trained for.”

  “To undress me.” My voice comes out flat, not really a question.

  “Yes.” He waves a casual hand. “First the shoes, then the stockings, if garters are in season, to make the time spent naked shorter. Then the dress, unless you wear a two-piece, which necessitates blouse first, followed by the skirt. Bra and underwear are last.”

  He recites it as if reading from an instruction manual, and the tension eases from my shoulders. Maybe I’m reading too much into this. Before I left for APA, my maid had performed similar duties. I hadn’t cared for it then, either. It made me feel like a doll to be dressed up.

  I fold my hands in my lap. “I relieve you of this task. I don’t need help clothing myself.”

  His eyebrows arch. “You will, though.”

  My spine stiffens. “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t keep up on current fashion.” He makes the statement like he knows me, and perhaps, he does. “To make him the optimal secretary, he probably has an entire file on my likes and dislikes. “This season is all about form-fitting outfits, hidden zippers, endless buttons. You’ll never get into it by yourself.”

  I hug my elbows. “Then, I’ll have my maid assist me.”

  Red floods his cheeks, and he glances down, body going rigid. “I see.”

  I blink, surprised at his reaction. Hesitant, I offer, “It will take a burden off of you.”

  “It’s my job.” Stiffly, he rises to his feet, gaze focused on the door leading to his quarters. He wipes his palms down his slacks. “If I am insufficient to perform my given tasks, then I will find someone more to your liking.”

  Guilt floods through me as he turns to leave. I don’t want to be the reason Nikola gets fired. Leaping to my feet, I blurt, “Wait!”

  He pauses without turning around, head cocked in my direction.

  I take a step toward him, the plush carpet soft against my sore feet. “I’m not used to this. The expectation of everything…”

  Nikola spins around, his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. His hand presses against his thigh, the confidence from before disappearing. “There’s no expectation. Not tonight. I’m just trying to act like this is normal to make you more comfortable.”

  My stomach plummets at the not tonight, but I ignore it for now to focus on his other words. “You’re uncomfortable?”

  He brushes a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “I’m beyond nervous.”

  I study him. “You’re good at hiding it.”

  “I’m trained to.” He walks back to stand in front of me and hesitantly takes my hand, flattening it against his chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath my palm. “See? I’m not calm at all.”

  I pull away, curling my fingers to stop myself from scrubbing his warmth away. Shame fills me at my reaction. He’s being open with me, and I still want him gone.

  But not fired.

  “If we’re a good fit, we have time to become comfortable with each other.” The lie slides off my tongue with ease. I will never be comfortable with this. But my return to Lonette Manor will be brief; I just need to act the part until I leave again.

  He gives a relieved nod of agreement. “Yes, that will be nice.”

  “For tonight, I can get ready for bed by myself. But I will call on you when faced with attire I cannot handle alone.” I touch the braid of red hair that hangs over my shoulder. “And, I’m horrible with hair.”

  “I’m wonderful with it.” His smile fades as his eyes drift over my shoulder. “For tonight—”

  “I wish to sleep alone,” I interrupt to forestall any offers to share my bed. When his eyes drop once more, I add, “My roommate at APA snores. I’m looking forward to a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

  He laughs with appreciation. “My first-year roommate talked in his sleep.”

  “Then you understand?”

  “I’m here to fulfill your needs, Caitlyn, even if that means leaving you to fend for yourself for the night.” He bows slightly, less deep than the one he gave my father earlier, but respectful. “I will wake you an hour before the stylist arrives.”

  “Thank you, Nikola.”

  “Have a good rest, Caitlyn.”

  As his bedroom door opens and closes without sound, I sag with relief, glad to finally be alone. I need to be careful with him. Unless I officially contract with him, he still answers to my father, no matter his displays of loyalty with my security lock. He was probably instructed to report my every move, making sure I toe the line of my place within the family.

  I hug my elbows and glance around the room, hating how this house makes me suspicious of everyone’s actions. Nikola and I grew up together, I should trust in him more. But he left for training three years ago. There’s no way to know how he changed in his absence. Our biggest difference though comes from the fact that he’s always wanted to be here, while I’ve always wanted to be anywhere else.

  My satchel catches my attention, the rough, dark-brown material clashing with the pale material of the bench. It doesn’t belong here any more than I do. I hurry to it and dig out my palm-port. The upper part of the screen still flashes with Felix’s unanswered message. I open it up to read again.

  Do you miss me yet, Sprinkles?

  I clutch the thin device, reading the simple message over and over again. His face pops into my memory, shaggy black hair and vibrant green eyes. He would have smiled while typing this out.

  With shaky fingers, I write back, Yes.

  ~

  My pillow vibrates, startling me from an uneasy sleep. Without Myrrine’s quiet coos, the silence of my unfamiliar bedroom became deafening. My eyes snap open and instantly focus on the door that leads to Nikola’s quarters. Some of the tension eases from my body when it remains closed. I half expected him to venture in while I slept, but resisted the desire to drag the bench from the foot of the bed to block the opening.

  There’s no way to explain away a barricade that wouldn’t even block his entry for long.

  Even so, I lie at the far edge of the bed, teetering on the edge of the large mattress with a body’s length of comforter between me and potential danger. With the room set to a warm temperature, sweat beads in the valley of my breast and across my forehead, fair payment for the robe I refuse to take off. Once I’d put on the nightgown Nikola selected for me, it was every bit as transparent as I feared.

  My pillow vibrates again, and I reach beneath it, fingers curling around my palm-port. I’d taken it to bed with me in the hope that Felix would reply, but sleep dragged me under before he did.

  Now, the screen flashes with an incoming call, and I smile to see his messy hair and eager smile on the other end. Before I think better of it, I press the answer button.

  “Sprinkles! You answered!” Felix’s head turns, and he calls, “Bro, I got Sprinkles on the line.”

  My voice comes out scratchy from sleep. “Hey, what time is it?”

  Felix’s eyes dart up as he checks the time. “Oh-three-twenty.” He leans closer to the screen, brows lifted with interest. “Are you in bed?”

  “Where else would I be right now?” I lick my lips to sweep away the dryness as I sit up and rub my eyes. “Did you just get home?”

  “I told you not to call her.” Connor’s calm voice washes over me like a balm as he grabs his brother’s hand to tilt the screen enough to become visible. Red rims his eyes, his glasses missing, and his usually neat hair hangs across his forehead. Shock rocks through me. I’d almost forgotten they were identical. He waves tiredly. “Sorry, Sparks.”

  “Hey, she said she missed me.” Felix’s bottom lip juts out. “I didn’t want to leave her waiting.”

  “You could have left it another three hours.” Connor pushes his hair back in an attempt to put himself back in order. “We’ll let you get back to sleep.”

  “No!” My hand lifts as if to physically stop them from disconnecting. When twin sets of green eyes widen, I frown. �
��I’m already awake. And I would have been up in ten minutes anyway.”

  Felix frowns. “Eww, why so early?”

  “Says the guy who woke me up.”

  He ducks his head, sheepish. “I missed you.”

  I settle back against my headboard and kick off the over warm comforter. “You saw me less than twelve hours ago.”

  “Does that mean you didn’t really miss me?” He glances at Connor. “Bro, my girlfriend didn’t miss me.”

  Connor drapes an arm across his shoulders in comfort. “You have textual evidence that says otherwise.”

  Felix nods in agreement. “I’m going to frame it.”

  “I’ll buy you a new holo-screen for the occasion.”

  I smile, warmed by their familiar banter. It chisels away at the hard knot of uneasiness in my stomach. “Have you heard from Declan?”

  Connor shakes his head, gaze serious. “He’s been silent since he left. We hoped you’d heard from him.”

  “No, nothing.” Concerned, I study Felix’s face. Worry pinches his brows together, his lips thin. I’d have guessed he’d be the first person Declan contacted when he landed. “You messaged him?”

  Felix gives a short nod. “The witch has him.”

  “The witch?” I repeat in confusion. My tiredness must be affecting my hearing.

  “Never mind. Felix is just worried.” Connor ruffles his brother’s hair.

  “I’ll let you know if I hear from him.” I check the time. “I need to go.”

  “Wait!” Felix snaps the palm-port away from his brother so only his face fills the screen. “We haven’t gotten to see your bedroom yet.”

  Amusement fills me. “You want a tour?”

  “Start with the bed.” Felix licks his lips. “Or better yet, what are you wearing to bed?”

  I keep my voice serious. “Clothes.”

  “Can we pretend you’re naked instead?” He tilts the palm-port as if doing so will give him a better glimpse inside my room.

  “I’m hanging up now.” My finger hovers over the end button, not yet ready to give them up.