All eyes are on Cordelia.

She lets go of Radjerd’s wrist, leaving him at the doorway. Cordelia takes careful steps towards Calista. Her eyes are wide with fear, like a doe in the headlights—she could scamper away within a moment’s notice. In her peripheral, her father’s looking through two files, although those aren’t of interest to her.

“What’s going on?” She demands, her steel blue eyes narrowing at Calista.

“Cordelia, it’s Willa Corp business—like I said before. No need to interrogate the poor lass.” Her father places the files on his desk, clearing his throat. “You were the one who decided to take your own leave.”

Cordelia rolls her eyes as she points to Radjerd. “Plans have changed. I have him spewing nonsense that she’s my half-sister. Is that true?”

Aleck coughs, wide-eyed. “Unless my DNA has been sold on the black market, that wouldn’t be possible.”

“Then what were you going to say, Mom?”

Merise holds her head in her hands, gripping the edges of her bangs. “I blame my poor tact for this, but Cordelia—please let us talk in peace. When we come to a solution, we’ll bring both of you in.”

“What does Radjerd have to do with this?” Cordelia demands.

“I do say, I’m quite confused as well. Merise, why is the lad here?”

Lad? Did her father conveniently forget that this man held a gun to his head?

“Merise, as much as I appreciate all of this, really, I think we should talk in private,” Calista says quietly, but it only makes Cordelia more suspicious. "Please, just let me talk to them—alone.” Cordelia crosses her arms, examining the taller girl. It’s not like Cordelia felt she was dangerous.

“Are you sure you’re not some secret sibling of mine?”

She looks appalled. “No!”

Cordelia sighs. “Then is Phoebe related to us secretly? Because you’re apparently a Firthe.”

Her father’s head jerks back to the files as Merise hops up. Appearing to be quite sober, she places her hand on the file. What’s the problem, he’s looked at them before?

“Okay, maybe there’s something else to the Firthe story, but can you tell me how you convinced my mother to bring him back to the manor?”

“That’s enough.” Merise warns.

“I need to know this isn’t some sort of ambush where he’s going to shoot me for disturbing the attempted robbery.” Cordelia raises a brow. “You don’t have a gun in that bag, do you?”

Calista laughs, nerves plague her voice. “Don’t be silly, why would I need a gun?”

“Well, maybe I should have a look—”

“Cordleia—leave her alone." Her mother raises her voice. “Now, go get one of our security people to give you the keys to the guesthouse. That’s where he’ll be staying.

There it is, the disdain in her voice. What the hell did Calista say to her? It seems no one’s going to say a word—she’s wasting her time.

“Fine. Whatever.” Cordelia shrugs. “But if she robs us, don’t come crying to me.”

“I’m finished with your disrespect.” Her mother points her finger at the door. “Out! Now!”

Cordelia closes the door behind her, taking a long, deep breath.

“I really can’t stand that woman.” She mutters to herself.

<What’s that? I can't understand Weltish.>

<It wasn’t meant for you.> Cordelia grumbles. <I’m supposed to get you the key to the guesthouse—where you’ll be staying. When we get there, you’re going to tell me everything you know about Calista Firthe.>

<I don’t know much about her either—she only helped me escape because that article got out.>

The article that made her own mother turn into a drunken mess. If it wasn't that, maybe she just had enough with Cordelia—fuck, that’s a depressing thought.

<Yeah, my family already reamed me for that—probably why my mother's smelling like alcohol."

<She tried to swing a few punches at me.>

<Really?!> Cordelia gasps.

<She missed, but yep, she did.>

Wow—and Radjerd was not a small man. Cordelia had to say; that impressed her.

<Well, it’s a good thing we have tripled the security, in case we have any other unwanted guests.> Since their majordomo Yolanda was away on vacation, she didn’t know who would have the key. Her mother should have told her who would. Conveniently, one of the security guards walks up to Cordelia with a key in hand.

“Thank you.” She thanks the red-haired man and encourages Radjerd to follow her. Before leaving the house, she grabs her father’s slippers. They’re a bit big for her, but they’ll do for now.

“Miss Firthe, I can escort our guest. You don’t need to leave in your bedclothes.”

“I’m fine. Could use the walk.” Is what Cordelia replies. Chances are, everyone in this manor knew his face, thanks to that bastard who published their photos online. Cordelia trips over her footing but thankfully catches her balance. She takes his slippers and throws them near the well-lit fountain.

<What? The pathway won’t hurt my feet.>

<No, it’s not that.> Radjerd’s stare lingers to her bustline—her bra revealed for the world to see. Not that it really bothers her, it’s one of her prettier sets. <You might want to tie yourself back up.>

<You don’t seem bothered by it.> She shrugs. Radjerd doesn’t dare say a word.

A nestled area near the main property, the two-storey guest house is as big as a garage unit. Regardless of its size, all the amenities were present. Cordelia unlocks the key and turns on the lights—a nice ornate living room, television, fireplace and kitchen were all in sight. Now, why didn’t Cordelia take the opportunity to snag this place for herself?

<This is where I get to stay?> He sounds confused and delighted at the same time.

<I guess so.> She looks around. <Tomorrow, someone will bring in food, but you’re out of luck for tonight. Water’s clean, plumbing works. You should be good.>

<You’re not staying?>

<I’m pretty sure my mom would kill you if I did.> If she tried to throw drunken punches, it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility. <Well, have a good rest. I’m getting out of here before both parents realize I’m gone.>

<Where to?> His voice carries a protective tone.

<Getting a drink at a club, nowhere special.>

<Do you think you should be going out by yourself, after what happened?>

<Look, no one knows where I am at this place. It’ll be fine.> She studies him briefly. Leaving him here would be a waste. <You wouldn’t by chance want to come with, do you?>

<I don’t have any money.> He frowns.

<You’re covered as my guest, don’t worry about it.> Odd, but if he wasn’t the type to leech, then she could respect that. <Drinks are on me.>

<Seems unfair.> He rests his hands on his hips. <But, I wouldn’t mind getting out. I’ve been locked in that room since our last date.> He eyes her up and down, her bra still exposed. He doesn’t move, but neither do his eyes. Cordelia looks down, shaking her head as she ties herself up.

<Stay here, and I’ll get Sadie to take us. I need to change.>

Radjerd hums, <Will you wear that black dress of yours?>

Cordelia scrunches her nose. <It’s dirty.>

<Then wear another little black dress.> His grin, while mildly inappropriate, is delicious. Cordelia slips from the living room, pacing quickly. If she times it right, she can get dressed, and be out the door before her parents were done with their mysterious visitor. However, keeping Radjerd around would keep herself in check. No one would try to hit on her with Radjerd as her date.