Burned (Hate at First Flight #2) ✔️

9. Two Can Play The Blackmail Game

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XOXO,
LOSALINI

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I was hot and bothered by the time the Alfred lookalike butler let me through the front door, and definitely not the good type.

In the fifty minutes since I'd left my house, I'd run to the Starbucks at the corner from my house, had to wait in line for twenty minutes before I got served then another ten minutes before I got my order, then I'd run to the bus stop.

Only after three minutes of skimming the bus routes did I discover there were absolutely no bus going to where the Burns lived, after all they were rich enough to not have to take a bus ever.

Trying to be as economically prudent as I could be, I decided to take a bus that stopped about eight blocks from their street then catch a cab over if I had time to spare. After all, my asshole of an employer's son gave me a time limit of forty minutes.

Sad to say I had to use more money that I had planned to this morning.

I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath as I studied the interior of the house. Actually, house would be an understatement. This place was an estate.

Despite having to run past the gate and its guard and up to the main house, I couldn't miss the impressive architecture that it took to build such beauty. It was designed in a Victorian age construction, maintaining the elegance of that time while the interior was modern. An intricate blend of both the ancient and modern beauty.

There was a huge staircase leading up to the floors above. A long passage to my right with an endless amount of doors that led to mysterious places and on my let was a living room so huge it looked like a ballroom where the rich had their end of year functions.

The theme of the house as far as I'd seen was creme and black, with a little white thrown in. On the wall by the staircase was a painting of a woman.

Without meaning to I left the coffee on the table next to the door and walked over to the painting.

Locks of fiery red that came alive as you stared at it, the greenest eyes that resembled the first leaves of spring, and the kindest smile that made me smile as I stared at the beautiful subject. She wore a simple black dress and  a gorgeous diamond necklace graced her long neck.

The artist immortalized the woman perfectly. It felt like she was really there, as if she was not a painting but staring back at me, smiling at me.

I reached out, wanting to trace the painting with my fingers.

Suddenly, my hand stopped short as a hand fiercely gripped it, fingers digging into my skin.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" A very angry Douglas Burns snaps as he glares at me, murder in his eyes.

How had I not noticed that his eyes were the same shade of green as the woman in the painting?

A hard squeeze on my hand brought my attention back to the murderous demon in front of me. I stepped back, trying to pull my arm out of his grasp, but he doesn't let go. "I was just..."

"Don't even think about putting your filthy hands on that," he grits out before he literally throws my hand out of his grip, looking disgusted. He turns around and walks to the living room.