A Waltz With Wolves (Book II in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Fifty-One: Christmas Spirit

**

Today is Christmas, though I'm anything but festive.

The house is empty and quiet when I wake up. I took the guestroom, which happens to be significantly larger than my own room at home. The sun comes in brightly through the large windows, illuminating the table that centers the room, the dresser, the TV and the large bed I can't seem to get out of.

I refrain from touching my phone since Isaac suggested that engaging with social media or stressing myself out more with work is counter-intuitive. I reminded him that I still have a job—a career—that I have a commitment to. But my life (again, per Isaac's words) is more important than my career, and until this shitstorm is settled, I have to lay low. I didn't take it well; I'm still adjusting.

I get up and go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Sarah was nice enough to stop by my apartment to bring over a bag of some of my clothes and toiletries. We didn't say much to each other, but our eyes spoke more than words ever could. She was scared for me—more scared than I was. It made me realize that I'm probably not taking this as seriously as I should; knowing Alejandro before has made it hard to fully grasp the idea that he isn't who he told me he is.

I brush my teeth for longer than I usually do, wash my face, and slip on my slippers before leaving the guestroom. It's easy to get lost in the large hallways and wide walls of Sebastian's castle, but luckily, I've memorized a path that easily gets me to the kitchen: make a right down the hall, down the first staircase, past the indoor pool (which I didn't even know he had until yesterday) to the left, then make another left once I see the large glass doors that lead to the courtyard. Through the first half of the living room, through the foyer, through the second half, and boom—you're in the kitchen.

I make this journey tiredly, craving coffee. I smell it coming from the kitchen, but I also hear something—voices. I stand by the bookshelf in the living room and listen.

"Venetia is the best option for her, Sebastian. No one can protect her better than the royal guard."

"If she told you she doesn't want to go, then you can't force her."

"Which is why I need you to help me convince her."

There's a long pause. "You know I can't convince her to do anything, Isaac," Sebastian replies softly.

"This is for her best interest. She can still keep her job; Her Majesty proposed that Leslie take up a job with the palace's Press Secretary."

"She can keep her job here because she's staying here; she doesn't want to go to Venetia, Isaac. And besides, we're taking hold of the situation. Salvador's looking for Alejandro as we speak."

"And when he finds him? Then what?"

Silence again. I swallow hard, waiting for someone to answer the question.

"Maybe Isaac is right," a third voice says—Claude.

Sebastian scoffs. "You aren't being serious right now?"

"I am," Claude says, his voice a little defensive. "I mean, look around? Look at the shit we're in? The last thing we'd want is for Leslie to get hurt, I mean Christ, she's already been kidnapped by the crazy fucker. You can't let your feelings for her cloud your judgment, man."

"But weren't you the one who told me to paint a target on Alejandro's head for shooting Darcy? Back at the hospital? And then you didn't even kill him like you told Salvador you would—apparently, he 'got away.' This shit could have been over with if you would have just done what you said you were going to do, but I guess your feelings for Darcy clouded your judgment, didn't they?"