Counsellor (Acquisition Series Book 1) (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

Stella

The house in
the oak grove was ominous despite the fact that the outside was lit up as bright as day. Ballgoers climbed the wide stone stairs to the open and bright front entrance. I shivered.

I’d almost had him only moments before, but the iota of control I wielded over Vinemont wasn’t enough. My lips, my words, none of it was enough to make him change his course. I entertained the ridiculous fantasy that if I could get him to care about me, then he wouldn’t hurt me. I knew he wouldn’t let me go, not until the year was up. But maybe I could convince him to leave me alone, to let me paint, to let me do anything besides standing naked for his amusement or enduring any of his cruel intentions.

But then he’d pulled away, becoming his usual cold self. At the last moment, I’d lost him.

Even though I hadn’t been able to shake him, whatever lay within the chateau put Vinemont on edge. I didn’t think anything could make him nervous. He tried to hide it beneath his usual snobby veneer, but I saw it clearly. He could hide plenty from me, but not that. Even he didn’t look forward to the dark deeds that awaited in this place.

He pulled up to a valet. For the first time, I noticed all of the people walking past the car were wearing masks. I turned back to Vinemont to find he’d already donned a simple black mask covered with the vine motif, his blue eyes showing through the material like patches of dark sky. His jaw was tight, the clean shaven lines perfection beneath his disguise. He pulled a far more extravagant mask from behind my seat, made with the same black peacock feathers on my dress.

“Put it on.”

I slipped the ribbon around my head and tied them in the back. Alex would have had a fit if he had seen me so much as touch my hair. I felt a pang in my breast at the thought of never seeing my short-lived friends again. After Mom had died, I didn’t do much besides keep my father company, paint, and read. I had no friends to speak of, no one to notice I was gone.

Now that I didn’t belong to myself anymore, I realized what a sheltered, useless existence I’d truly had. I was utterly unprepared for the world, for Vinemont, for the shadows that threatened to smother the very life from my body. I could feel it, the darkness, swirling near me, taking the air from my lungs like a greedy parasite.

The valet had been holding his hand out for an awkward moment before I took it and allowed him to help me from the car. He wore a silver mask with what looked like an oak branch pattern in stark black lines.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” the valet said. “Welcome to the Oakman chateau.”

“Not a scratch.” Vinemont threw the keys. The valet caught them easily.

Vinemont came around and offered his arm to me. I would have refused had it not been for the too-high heels strapped to my feet. As it was, I would need help climbing the wide stairs unless I wanted to break my neck.

I pushed my cloak out of the way and took his arm. Warmth radiated from him, seeping through his tuxedo and into my bare arm. With the shoes, I was tall enough to get a good look at his face, despite the mask hiding him from me. His jaw was tight, stress written in the tension.

We began our climb as others crowded around us. I tried to listen to the snippets of conversation.

“—picked this year?”

“I heard the same thing! Cal is apparently very interested in the new Acquisitions to the point he—”

“I hope the Witheringtons win. Have you seen their eldest? He’s still a bachel—”

The blood drained from my face. The tips of my ears went cold. I stopped even as Vinemont tried to tug me along with him. “This is some sort of sick competition?”

A couple of masked people near us turned to look.

“Her first ball,” Vinemont said cheerily.

“Oh, my dear, you’re in for a real treat!” A female ballgoer in a sparkling mask with a grotesquely long nose took my other arm.

She and Vinemont walked me up the stairs.

“This year is going to be especially interesting,” the beast at my other elbow trilled. “The three families are really the crème de la crème. Top notch. And Cal is going to be the greatest master of ceremonies we’ve ever seen if his Acquisition was any indication. He really set the bar high that year. Have you heard what he has planned for tonight?”

“Don’t spoil it for her,” Vinemont said with a smile in his voice. “I want her to get the full experience.”

I cursed him silently for cutting off my only flow of information.

We reached the top step and fell in line behind some other couples.

“In that case, I’ll say no more. See you inside. I’ll tell you one thing, though, this year’s Acquisitions are going to be much the worse for wear when it’s over.” With that, she giggled and rejoined her party.

I faltered, my heel catching as the corners of my vision darkened. Blood roared in my ears. Vinemont held me up and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side.

“Keep it together, Stella.” His voice was low.

“Just tell me what’s going to happen.” Desperation colored my words, only hinting at the panic escalating in my breast.

He continued moving me inexorably forward. Panic rose up from within me, threatening to overtake the thin veneer of control I had. I wanted to scream, to run, to do anything but go inside this house with the monster at my elbow.

“Please, Sinclair, please.”

He stiffened as I used his first name. He pulled me to the side and let others pass ahead of us.

“Goddammit, Stella.” His voice was a low growl as his eyes flashed behind the black mask. “Stop asking questions. In fact, don’t speak again until you’re spoken to. Understand?”

“I’ll stop and I won’t speak if you just answer my question. Just tell me.”

He brought me closer to him, pretending we were embracing each other, solely for the benefit of the other ballgoers around us, no doubt.

His mouth was at my ear. “I haven’t told you for a reason, Stella.”

He put a hand to my throat before smoothing it around to the back of my neck in a move of utter possession.

“They will mark you.” He ran his fingers across the skin at the nape of my neck, making a vivid heat tear through my body from the points of contact. “Here.”

His other hand snaked under my cloak and around to the open back of my dress. His fingers played at my exposed skin. “And here.”

I shook so hard that he spread his large palm against my bare back and pressed me to him. “I warned you, Stella. I didn’t want you to know ahead of time. Fear is your enemy. Fear will make it hurt more than it has to. Now, look at you.” He slid his hand up my spine. “Trembling against me, the one who stole you away from your life, the one who’s going to take everything from you. You are cozying up to the spider you detest.”

His lips brushed my earlobe and the strange heat pulsed through me again, scorching a path straight to my core. His evil words weren’t igniting fear in me. They were making me need him, need his wicked tongue to do things other than taunt me with pain.

I knew I should be afraid. I was. But not of him.

He moved his hand around to the front of my dress and teased my hardened nipple with his thumb. He groaned low in his throat. The cloak hid his movements, but I felt every single touch. When he cupped my breast and squeezed, I hitched in my breath.

“You’d let me fuck you right now, wouldn’t you? In front of all these people. Right here.” He released my nape, grabbed my hand, and guided it to the hard length in his pants. “You’d take this.”

My heart fluttered even faster. I slid my hand along him and his hips jerked toward me. I couldn’t think, couldn’t waste my thoughts on fear when he created an inferno that scorched me in my most secret places.

“Yes,” I breathed. “I would.”

“And I’d take you, too. In fact, I will, but not here. Business first. Get through this, and I’ll grant you a reward.” With that, he let me go and backed away. His step was steady but his eyes were wild.

My skin was needy, demanding his touch and more. What was wrong with me? I
hated
Vinemont. Maybe it was because of what I’d done to myself. Maybe I felt like I deserved some sort of punishment for being so weak throughout my life? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I wanted him to rekindle the same fire in me, to make me burn for him, no matter the cost.

He held out his arm for me again. I took it and allowed him to escort me into the glowing hell of the Oakman chateau.

***

Masked greeters welcomed us and offered to take my cloak. Vinemont declined and swept me further inside the mansion. It was alight with conversation and alcohol. Servers in harlequin masks wove through the revelers, offering drinks and taking already empty glasses.

One whisked towards us, his tray laden with champagne.

“No, thank you,” I said.

Vinemont grabbed two glasses and handed me one. “Drink. It’ll help.”

I took a sip and then another. We walked further inside. Everything was gilded, golden, and sparkling. Dozens of chandeliers lined the high ceilings, and the walls were covered with intricate murals of romanticized scenes from the old South. It reflected a whitewashed history, the lighter paint hiding a bloody and violent past.

I waved my glass at the images of cotton fields and smiling slaves. “This is disgusting.”

“Thank you for your fascinating art critique. Now, drink,” Vinemont urged.

I swallowed another mouthful of the champagne, my stomach warming. And then the delicious liquid was gone. Vinemont handed the second glass to me.

“Finish it.”

I did as he instructed, suddenly thirsty and starving. My lunch at Renee’s hands seemed to have happened days ago.

“Good.” He passed the empty glasses to a particularly horrific server dressed in complete maudlin. His mask was skeletal even as the bells jingled merrily along his crown.

What sounded like a full orchestra began playing somewhere deeper in the house. Vinemont and I fell into the stream of masked strangers, some of them in gorgeous gowns that seemed to have come right off a runway. The men were all in staid black tie, the only things marking them as different were the varied masks that hid their faces. Some were pure peacocks, others in simple black. All seemed eager, almost excited. A buzz was in the crowd, elation at what came next, whatever that might be, creating an expectant energy.

A man plucked the edge of my cape and stared down at me.

I cringed back into Vinemont.

The stranger didn’t seem to notice, or care. “A Vinemont, I take it?”

The hum of the music grew, the whine of violins echoing down the wide marble hallway before the sound coalesced into beauty along with the other instruments.

“Yes.” Vinemont pulled me into his side, forcing the stranger to release my cloak.

The stranger smiled, his eyes lighting behind his midnight blue mask. “There are no female Vinemont heirs. So you must be an Acquisition.”

“I’m just—”

“She’s mine. Back the fuck off, Charles.” Vinemont tightened his grip at my waist, pressing the already tight dress into me even more.

The stranger laughed. “Nice to see you, too, Sinclair.” He stared down into my eyes again. “And I’m very much looking forward to seeing you, all of you, very shortly.”

The floor lurched beneath my feet. The only thing that kept me upright was Vinemont’s arm around my waist. He was a prison made of flesh and blood. My very own cage.

The stranger, Charles, stepped away and whispered something to the woman at his side. She frowned at me, giving me an up and down sweep with a critical gaze, her crimson mask turning her into a particularly vicious foe.

The orchestra was playing some elegant tune, one made for the opera or a symphony, not for this. It was so out of place that I wanted to laugh. I stifled my giggle as I glanced away from the crimson bitch.

I ignored the priceless canvases that graced the walls, and the ornate doors and moldings. Instead of letting the beauty of the house lull me, I stared into the masked faces, many of them now staring back at me as word spread that I was an Acquisition, whatever that really meant. Was I so rare? How many Acquisitions were there?

Though light glanced from every surface and sprang from the bright walls and polished floor, I was in a nightmare. The home was only gilded, gold covering the rotten core. I was surrounded by ghouls, all of them hungering for a piece of my flesh. The glitz and glamour did nothing to hide their true natures. No mask ever could.

The quick beat of my heart resounded in my ears, deafening even the smooth sound of the instruments. Vinemont didn’t stop, didn’t say a word, just kept moving forward. Toward what, I didn’t know. We passed through a wide set of high doors and into a ballroom. The floor was a light oak and shone like everything else in the vile mansion.

In the center was a high platform that towered over the ballgoers. It was circular and done in brilliant gold. A fabricated oak tree shot up through the middle, the leaves sprouting artificially green and full almost up to the ceiling, which must have been forty feet overhead, if not more.