Avery escorted Liz inside the house, explaining how to operate the security system.
“This is Murray and Basil, your security team, and if you follow me, we’ll go up to your bedroom.”
Liz nodded at the guards, frowning at the idea of a security detail, but followed Avery up the wide modern staircase to the second story and the largest bedroom she had ever seen.
“You can explore on your own, or I can give you a quick tour of the house?” Avery offered.
“It’s fine. I’ll explore on my own,” Liz said, too tired to wander around.
“Have a good evening, Mrs. Rayburn,” Liz greeted.
“Call me Liz,” she requested, and Avery smiled at her.
“As you wish.” She left, and Liz wandered down to the foyer, feeling lost. Her flat could fit into this mansion twenty times with room to spare, but although it was beautiful, it lacked a personal touch.
She didn’t feel like exploring her new environment and headed in the direction Avery said the kitchen was.
She stopped in her tracks when the lights switched on as she entered the ample space: a hotel restaurant could cook inside the stainless steel and white marble room.
Liz spotted the refrigerator, opened the door, and stared. She could feed an army, and taking everything that caught her eye, she made herself at home at the island table and sampled a little of everything.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Rayburn, do you require anything?” The woman nearly scared Liz witless, and she automatically reached for the gun she didn’t have.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” the woman apologized, but Liz caught a glimmer of amusement in those gray eyes.
She seemed in her late fifties with gray-blonde hair. She was tall and angular with the vestiges of faded beauty and a distinctly British accent.
“I am Anna, and if you want anything, just use the intercom. I am on call until twelve every day of the week except Sundays.”
She did not move away from the door, and Liz realized she should have assumed there would be a housekeeper and staff.
Liz glanced at the mess she made on the countertop and intended to clean.
“I wanted a snack and couldn’t decide. I’m not used to such an abundance of choice.” Heat colored Liz’s cheeks.
Although she loved cooking, she was usually so tired after a long day at work that she ordered take-out or settled for a sandwich, maybe even leftovers.
“This is your house, Mrs. Rayburn. You may raid the fridge of anything you want, and cleaning up is my job. Please, go shower, and relax. This is no bother,” Anna insisted respectfully.
Liz hated leaving a mess for someone else to clean as tiredness overwhelmed her. She didn’t even know if she had the energy to take a shower.
“Thank you, Anna.” She gave in and made her way into the hallway.
“I’ll make you a cup of tea,” Anna called after her, expecting no answer.
Liz made her way to her room, aimed straight for the bathroom, and could only stare again. Rich people had no sense. Five people could fit in that bath, and the shower was on another level.
It took ten minutes just to figure out how it worked, but she had to force herself to get out once she did. At least the spray had dispelled some of the tension from her muscles.
She walked into her closet with a towel wrapped around her, and this time didn’t even bother to feel aghast. She had enough clothes to start a boutique and had a feeling that she’d never wear most of them.
Her sister would have been in heaven, but she never paid much attention to current trends, settling for what was comfortable and convenient.
She owned a few basic formal dresses, but most of them were a few years old. Had owned.
Liz dropped her towel and caught her image in the three-way mirror. She turned until she could take it all in and wanted to cry. She wasn’t the type of girl who found body art sexy.
Riva had three tattoos. One on her left upper bicep of a rose, one on her right ankle of an angel, and a small heart on her right hip.
“Your tea is growing cold, ma’am,” Anna said from the door and caught Liz looking at herself, tears burning her eyes.
“Sorry.” Anna turned away as Liz grabbed the robe hanging on a hook.
When Liz reached the room, Anna was gone, but she’d turned down the bed before leaving.
A fancy China tea set awaited her on the low table beside a genuine Regency chair, and a comfortable nightie made from T-shirt material waited on the bed.
Liz took it, held the soft material to her face, sat down on the bed, and burst into tears before she could help herself. How had Anna known she needed something familiar?
This didn’t come from that extravagant closet. It was new, and no one had ever worn it, but it wasn’t something Caleb would have allowed his people to buy for her.
She fell asleep on the side of the bed, still clutching the material to her like a teddy bear, and never drank the tea. She wasn’t even aware that Anna whisked away the tray.
Liz woke to the sound of an alarm she didn’t set, in a room she didn’t remember, clutching a nighty and curled under a blanket she didn’t cover herself with.
Dried tears had turned her face into a stiff mask and she had the taste of salt in her dry mouth.
She pushed off the blanket, went into the bathroom to wash her face, and stared at her reflection for the longest time. She couldn’t get used to the stranger in the mirror and hated not looking like herself.
When she returned to the room to fetch clothes from the closet, an English breakfast awaited her on a heated plate with scones, freshly brewed tea, and the morning paper.
Her stomach growled as if she never had dinner, and she veered off toward the table.
Getting used to people who moved like shadows to fulfill her every whim would take as much time as getting used to her new look and lifestyle.
She never imagined a life like this, and having spent the last six months relentlessly hunting the Rayburns, she didn’t understand why they treated her like a princess instead of torturing her or doing something evil.
She would expect criminals to take revenge and dump the body somewhere, but there she was, a brand-new woman living in the lap of luxury. It didn’t make any sense, and strangely, it scared her.
She wasn’t prone to rampant emotions and never paid much attention to fear, but with the foundations of her life torn away and her very identity stolen, something had changed inside her.
Not even when they whisked her and her family from their lives so many years ago, moving them to a new town, giving them new lives and new identities, did she feel so untethered.
Maybe because she had her mother and sister to anchor her, but this wasn’t the same.
Liz finished her breakfast, wondering what this day would bring. If it were not for her mother and sister, she would take the cash from her vault and flee, but she couldn’t do that to her family.
She couldn’t rip them from their lives again, and to be honest, this was her fault. How many times had her mother warned her to let this go? How many times had Riva begged her to leave the past in the past?
And she didn’t listen. She pig-headedly stayed the path, more determined than ever to bring the people to justice who deprived her of her father.
Someone knocked on the door, and she frowned at it, not yet ready to face her future.
“Enter.”
Avery made her way into the room, and a slight scowl tugged at her perfect brows when she noticed that Liz still wore a robe.
“Are we running late this morning? We have an appointment at eight sharp,” Avery reminded as if she should know this, and it had never even occurred to Liz that she’d have a schedule.
The royal “we” irritated her more than just a little. Her phone had beeped earlier when she was in the shower, but she forgot to check it.
Avery stood there, waiting for her, and she almost sighed, getting to her feet and making her way into the closet with Avery in her wake. The pixie swept past her, choosing an outfit before Liz could even protest.
“Leather won’t do today. Mrs. Clarke is conservative, and that pretty tattoo on your arm will offend her,” Avery suggested, and Liz nearly told her that it offended her too.
Instead, she bit her tongue and pointedly glared at Avery, who left the closet with a shrug that said she found Liz’s shyness odd. Liz didn’t care.
She hated dressing with an audience, even though she grew up with a sister who had no such inhibitions.
All of this seemed so strange, and she couldn’t help but wonder when the trap would slam shut on her.
