You can let Daxton control you and tell you what to do, you can rebel and get yourself killed, or you can listen to us and do something worthwhile. Something other than just be Lila’s replacement.”
He said that like it was easy, like there were no consequences, but each choice had a price I would have to pay one way or the other.
Knox leaned toward me, and the leather squeaked underneath him. “They gave you a III because they thought you would never amount to anything more. Are you going to prove them right?”
I scowled. I wasn’t a coward. I wasn’t afraid of dying. I didn’t want to, but I wasn’t afraid of it. What I was afraid of was getting Benjy killed, and that fear was paralyzing.
Celia must have sensed my hesitation, because she said, “If it’s your friend you’re worried about, you have my word that he will be protected.”
“The same way you protected Lila?” I said, but there was no venom in my voice.
She flinched anyway, and Knox quickly cut in. “What happened to Lila was terrible, and it’s a mistake we won’t make again.”
I swallowed. Celia wouldn’t meet my eyes, and I couldn’t blame her. “You’re asking me to trust you when I don’t even know you.”
“No, you don’t,” said Knox. “But you do know Daxton and what he’s capable of. You have my word— our word that no matter what you decide and no matter what happens to you, we will protect your friend to the best of our ability.” He glanced at Celia, and she nodded wearily. “Even if you decide to play it safe and do what Daxton wants, we won’t let anything happen to Benjy.”
I covered my face with my hands and took a deep breath. There was no way for me to know if they were lying or not, and either way, I’d be pissing someone off.
I wanted to believe that Knox and Celia would protect Benjy, but Celia had let her daughter die. She couldn’t guarantee Benjy his safety any more than she could guarantee me mine.
I might have lost my identity, but this was still my life, and the thought of taking orders from Daxton until he decided I was better off dead made me sick to my stomach. He’d killed Nina to show me what would happen if I didn’t behave. He’d threatened Benjy. Once he was dead, what would Daxton do to control me? Find my real parents and kill them, too?
With Daxton, the bloodshed would never end. With Celia and Knox, I could at least pretend that not everyone I loved would die for my mistakes.
The image of Nina’s blood spattered against the tree flashed in my mind, and I dug my nails into my palms.
Daxton had had me until that morning. I would’ve done anything he wanted as long as it bought me time and kept me alive, and he’d known it. He’d killed Nina not to control me, but to lord over me—to prove how much power he had and how little I possessed. And now Celia and Knox were offering me a way to get some of my own. It might not have been much, but if Daxton wanted a pissing contest, then that was exactly what I would give him.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll do it as long as you keep Benjy safe. But you have to be honest with me, too. No keeping things from me, no bossing me around, and don’t treat me like I’m stupid, all right?”
Celia nodded, and Knox moved to pat my shoulder again. This time I let him. “You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said.
Except as we drove down the winding drive, I was all too aware that there was only one way this could end, and it wouldn’t be with Celia or Knox taking the fall for me.
Chapter 8
As a III, I would have never been allowed to set foot into Somerset. While thousands of people were crammed within the borders of the Heights, Somerset was equally as large and catered solely to the Harts. The only way for anyone else to get inside was to work there or be invited by a member of the family. The armed guards that patrolled the gates made sure of it.
As we drove up to the mansion, I tried not to gawk, but it was impossible. Standing five stories high, the outside was painted a shimmering white that reflected the deep hues of the sunset. A massive glass wall offered a glimpse into the luxurious atrium, and I craned my neck to get a better look.
“Is this for real?” I stepped out of the car, and the gravel drive crunched beneath my boots. “This is a house?”
“This is home,” said Celia, looping her arm in mine.
Two guards opened the double doors for us, and we stepped inside, Knox trailing behind us.
The entrance hall gleamed with brilliant whites and silvers, crystal and glass, and there was even an elevator that rose through the atrium. Off to the side I spotted a sitting room, richly decorated in blue and gold, and in the opposite direction I saw a door that led into a magnificent dining room. Unlike the one in the Stronghold, it could easily have held fifty or more.
As Celia led me to the elevator, I noticed paintings of people I didn’t recognize. Their eyes seemed to follow us, and a shiver ran through me. Despite my success in convincing the people in Elsewhere that I was Lila, now that I was in her home, I was no longer confident.
Something as simple as putting my shoes in the wrong place could give me away.
“Welcome home, Lila,” said a voice above us. Daxton leaned against the railing two stories up. “I’ve already checked with the staff, and they assure me your suite has been aired out and prepared for your arrival.
Mother has scheduled you for a luncheon tomorrow for the grand opening of St. George Hospital. Celia, if you will, Mother requests you accompany her.”
“Of course,” said Celia. “Knox will be staying with us for the foreseeable future, so if you would also tell the staff to prepare his room, I would be much obliged.”
“Already done,” said Daxton. “On that note, that lit- tle problem we discussed earlier, Lila—Knox will help you with it.”
I gave Knox a puzzled look, and he bent down to whisper in my ear, “He wants me to teach you to read.”
“Oh.” How had he found out so quickly? I shoved my hands in my pockets and nodded up toward Daxton.
Good luck with that one.
Lila’s rooms were on the fourth floor, across from Celia’s. Along with a guest room Knox would be using, they took up an entire wing of the mansion. Lila’s suite alone included a sitting room, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen nook, and worst of all, a door that led into an empty room.
“Your future nursery,” said Celia. “For after you’re married.”
I made a face. Terrific.
Everything from her bedspread to the sofa to the rug laid out in front of a gigantic fireplace was made of white furs—fake, Celia informed me, but I couldn’t tell the difference. I took my boots off, and the hardwood floor was cool against my bare feet. The windows were wide and faced the sunset, and in the distance I could see the buildings that made up the wealthy downtown area.