Riordan by Kathi S. Barton

Author:Kathi S. Barton [Barton, Kathi S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: paranormal romance
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Riordan walked around the living room and wondered why Storm didn’t live here. The

house was set up, beautifully maintained, and even had a staff on duty at all times. As they made

their way to the upper floors, he looked at the portraits hanging from long chains, one right after

the other.

“Relatives?”

Stormy nodded but didn’t say anything else. The man that was leading them up the long

curved staircase reminded him of a butler from a classic movie…starched and stiff, and wearing

his uniform like it was part of his body. And he was English, if Riordan’s ears had heard

correctly. He also thought the man was very nervous about having the lady of the house, as he

had called Storm, in residence.

“This is the master suite. As you can see, things have been left alone, my lady, just as you

requested.” She nodded, and Riordan saw that she was uncomfortable. Whether it was her being

referred to by the title “lady” or the house in general, he didn’t think she wanted to be there.

Could you ask him to leave us alone? Storm looked at him, then at the butler . Please? I’d

like to talk to you and he’s not going to like your answer to me, I think.

“Anderson, can you give us a few minutes please? Let Margaret know that Mr. Harrison and

I will be staying for dinner. Thank you.” As he left them, Riordan moved toward her and pulled

her to his body. “You have something to say to me that’s going to piss me off? I’m not in the

mood right now.”

“You hate this place, don’t you?” She didn’t say anything but moved away from him and to

the window. “Why did you want me to see it if you hate it so much?”

“I didn’t. Aunt Sally wanted you to see it. And I don’t hate this place, but find it cold and

unfriendly. Even when I lived here as a child, I didn’t like the way the house seemed to close in

on me.” She sat on the window seat and looked around the room as she continued. “The only

other time I’ve been in this room was just after my parents died. Anderson brought me in here to

ask me what I wanted to keep or toss. I told him what you heard, just to leave it alone until I told

him to take care of it. I still don’t have a clue what the fuck to do with this shit. My parents lived

here for their entire marriage, and I knew less about them than I do your parents in the month

I’ve known them.”

“It’s only a house.” She told him she knew that. “No, I mean it’s not a home, it’s just a

house. My parents’ place is a home. There are pieces of all of us all over the place. Pictures and

things we made for them as kids. You should see our Christmas tree. It’s covered in toys we

picked up, things we made for Mom in school, and pictures. Mom takes a picture of us every

year, frames it, and puts it on the tree with the date on it.

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