Welcome home, Kayla." Alisa stepped into the foyer and spun to face me. I stopped breathing, just for an instant, as I crossed the threshold. It was like stepping into Buckingham Palace or Hogwarts and being told that it was yours.

"Down that corridor," Alisa said, "we have the theatre, the music room, conservatory, solarium...." I didn't even know what half of those rooms were.

"You've seen the Great Room, of course," Alisa continued. "The formal dining is farther down, then the kitchen, the chef's kitchen...."

"There's a chef?" I blurted out.

"There are sushi, Italian, Taiwanese, vegetarian, and pastry chefs on retainer." The voice that said those words was male. I turned to see the older couple from the will's reading standing by the entry to the Great Room. The Laughlins, I remembered. "But my wife handles the cooking day-to-day," Mr. Laughlin continued gruffly.

"Mr. Hawthorne was a very private man." Mrs. Laughlin eyed me. "He made do with my cooking most days because he didn't like having any more outsiders poking around in the House than necessary."

There was no doubt in my mind that she was saying House with a capital H —and even less that she considered me an outsider.

"There are dozens of staff on retainer," Alisa explained. "They all receive a full-time wage but work on call."

If something needs doing, there's someone to do it," Mr. Laughlin said plainly, "and I see that it's done in the most discreet fashion possible. More often than not, you won't even know they're here."

"But I will," Issac stated. "Movement on and off the estate is strictly tracked, and no one makes it past the gates without a deep background check. Construction crews, the housekeeping and gardening staff, every masseuse, chef, stylist, or sommelier—they are all cleared through my team."

Sommelier. Stylist. Chef. Masseuse. My brain worked backward through that list. It was dizzying.

"The gym facilities are down this hall," Alisa said, returning to her tour guide role. "There are full-sized basketball and racquetball courts, a rock climbing wall, bowling alley—"

"A bowling alley?" I repeated.

"Only four lanes," Alisa assured me, as if it was perfectly reasonable to have a small bowling alley in one's house.

I was still trying to formulate an appropriate response when the front door opened behind me. The day before, Nash Hawthorne had given the impression of someone who was out of here—yet there he was.

"Motorcycle cowboy," Libby whispered in my ear.

Oh so now she's talking to me!

Beside me, Alisa stiffened. "If everything's in order here, I should check in with the firm." She reached into her suit pocket and handed me a new phone. "I programmed in my number, Mr. Laughlin's, and Oren's. If you need anything, call."

She left without saying a single word to Nash, and he watched her go.

"You be careful with that one," Mrs. Laughlin advised the eldest Hawthorne brother, once the door had closed. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

That cemented something for me. Alisa and Nash. My lawyer had advised me against losing my heart to a Hawthorne, and when she'd asked me if I'd ever had my life ruined by one of them, and I'd said no, her response had been lucky you.

"Don't go convincing yourself Lee-Lee is consortin' with the enemy," Nash told Mrs. Laughlin. "Kayla isn't anyone's enemy. There are no enemies here.

This is what he wanted."

He. Tobias Hawthorne. Even dead, he was larger than life.

"None of this is Kayla's fault," Libby said beside me. "She's just a kid."

How come she was on my side now? I looked over to Avery who seemed quiet. Something had clearly blown up.

Nash swung his attention to my sister, and I could feel her trying to fade into oblivion. Nash peered through her hair to the black eye underneath. "What happened here?" he murmured.

"I'm fine," Libby said, sticking her chin out.

"I can see that," Nash replied softly. "But if you decide you'd like to give me a name? I'd take it."

"Libby." Oren got her attention. "If you've got a moment, I'd like to introduce you to Hector, who will be running point on your detail. Kayla, I can personally guarantee that Nash will not ax-murder you or allow you to be axmurdered by anyone else while I'm gone."

That got a snort from Nash, and I glared at Oren. He didn't have to advertise how little I trusted them! As Libby followed Oren into the bowels of the house, I became keenly aware of the way that the oldest Hawthorne brother watched her go.

"Leave her alone," I told Nash.

"You're protective," Nash commented, "and you seem like you'd fight dirty, and if there's one thing I respect, it's those particular traits in combination."

There was a crash, then a thud in the distance.

"That," Nash said meditatively, "would be the reason I came back and am not living a pleasantly nomadic existence as we speak."

Another thud.

Nash rolled his eyes. "This should be fun." He began striding toward a nearby hall. He looked back over his shoulder. "You might as well tag along, kid. You know what they say about baptisms and fire."

Nash had long legs, so a lazy amble on his part required me to jog to keep up. I looked in each room as we passed, but they were all a blur of art and architecture and natural light. At the end of a long hall, Nash threw open a door. I prepared myself to see evidence of a brawl. Instead, I saw Grayson and Jameson standing on opposite sides of a library that took my breath away.

The room was circular. Shelves stretched up fifteen or twenty feet overhead, and every single one was lined completely with hardcover books. The shelves were made of a deep, rich wood. Spread across the room, four wrought-iron staircases spiraled toward the upper shelves, like the points on a compass. In the library's center, there was a massive tree stump, easily ten feet across. Even from a distance, I could see the rings marking the tree's age.

It took me a moment to realize that it was meant to be used as a desk. I could stay here forever, I thought. I could stay in this room forever and never leave.

"So," Nash said beside me, casually eyeing his brothers. "Whose ass do I need to kick first?"

Grayson looked up from the book he was holding. "Must we always resort to fisticuffs?"

"Looks like I have a volunteer for the first ass-kicking," Nash said, then shot a measuring look at Jameson, who was leaning against one of the wrought-iron staircases. "Do I have a second?"

Jameson smirked. "Couldn't stay away, could you, big brother?" "And leave Kayla here with you knuckleheads?" Until Nash mentioned my name, neither of the other two seemed to have registered my presence behind him, but I felt my invisibility slip away, just like that.

"I wouldn't worry too much about Ms. Grambs," Grayson said, silver eyes sharp. "She's clearly capable of taking care of herself."

"Translation: I'm a soulless, gold-digging con artist, and he sees straight through me." 

I thought of saying that bit in my head but chose instead to say it aloud.

The statement gained a laugh from Nash.

"Don't pay any attention to Gray," Jameson told me lazily. "None of us do."

"Jamie," Nash said. "Zip it."

Jameson ignored him. "Grayson is in training for the Insufferable Olympics, and we really think he can go all the way if he can just jam that stick a little farther up his—"

"Enough," Nash grunted.

"What did I miss?" Xander bounded through the doorway. He was wearing a private school uniform, complete with a blazer that he shed in one liquid motion.

"You haven't missed anything at all," Grayson told him. "And Ms. Grambs was just leaving." He flicked his gaze toward me. "I'm sure you want to get settled."

"I'm the billionaire here Hawthorne, it's over Anakin I got the high ground!" I said.

Xander looked at me like I was a newly-discovered species. then he smiled broader than I'd seen anyone smile before.

"I like her!" He said pointing to me.

"Wait a second." Xander frowned suddenly, taking in the state of the room.

"Were you guys brawling in here without me?" I still saw no visible signs of a fight or destruction, but obviously, Xander had picked up on something I hadn't.

"This is what I get for being the one who doesn't skip school," he said mournfully.

At the mention of school, Nash looked from Xander to Jameson. "No uniform," he noted. "Playing hooky, Jamie? Two ass-kickings it is."

Xander heard the phrase ass-kicking, grinned, bounced to the balls of his feet, and pounced with no warning, tackling Nash to the ground. Just some friendly impromptu wrestling between brothers.

"Pinned you!" Xander declared triumphantly.

Nash hooked his ankle around Xander's leg and flipped him, pinning him to the ground. "Not today, little brother." Nash grinned, then flashed a much darker look at the other two brothers. "Not today."

They were—the four of them—a unit. They were Hawthornes. I wasn't. I felt that now, in a physical way. They shared a bond that was impervious to outsiders.

"I should go," I said. I didn't belong here, and if I stayed, all I would do was stare.

"You shouldn't be here at all," Grayson replied tersely.

"Stuff a sock in it, Gray," Nash said. "What's done is done, and you know as well as I do that if the old man did it, there's no undoing it." Nash swiveled his head toward Jameson. "And as for you: Self-destructive tendencies aren't nearly as adorable as you think they are."

"Kayla solved the keys," Jameson said casually. "Faster than any of us."

For the first time since I'd walked into the room, all four brothers fell into an extended silence. What is going on here? I wondered. The moment felt tense, electric, borderline unbearable, and then—

"You gave her the keys?" Grayson broke the silence.

I was still holding the key ring in my hand. It suddenly felt very heavy.

Jameson wasn't supposed to give me these.

"We were legally obligated to hand over—"

"A key." Grayson interrupted Jameson and started stalking slowly toward him, snapping the book in his hand closed. "We were legally obligated to give her a key, Jameson, not the keys."

I'd assumed that I was being messed with. At best, I'd thought it was a test.

But from the way they were talking, it seemed more like a tradition. An invitation.

A rite of passage.

"I was curious how she'd do." Jameson arched an eyebrow. "Do you want to hear her time?"

"No," Nash boomed. I wasn't sure if he was answering Jameson's question or telling Grayson to stop advancing on their brother.

"Can I get up now?" Xander interjected, still pinned beneath Nash and seemingly in a better humour than the other three combined.

"Nope," Nash replied.

"I told you she was special," Jameson murmured as Grayson continued closing in on him.

"And I told you to stay away from her." Grayson stopped, just out of Jameson's reach.

"So I see that you two are talking again!" Xander commented jollily.

"Excellent."

Not excellent, I thought, unable to draw my eyes away from the storm brewing just feet away. 

"Welcome to Hawthorne House, Mystery Girl." Jameson's welcome seemed to be more for Grayson's benefit than for mine. Whatever this fight was about, it wasn't just a difference of opinion on recent events.

It wasn't just about me.

"Stop calling me Mystery Girl." I'd barely spoken since the moment the library door

"Would you prefer heiress?" He asked tersely.

"Call me that one more time and see what happens."

If there was one thing the Hawthorne's had gotten right about me, is what Nash said.

I fought fucking dirty.

For whatever reason Jameson believed me. His face paled and he backed away slightly.

"Sorry" He muttered.

With that I walked out of the library.

Outside, Isaac was waiting for me.

"Ms. Grambs,"

"Issac"

"allow me to show you to your room." He said.

I nodded and followed him up stairways and hallways.

Finally we got to a room and he opened the door.

"I've already brought your bags up. I'll be outside if you need me."

I nodded once again and looked around my room. The walls were white, there was a bookshelf made of dark oak wood in the corner filled with classic novels. Bed side tables on each end and a desk in the corner of the room.

I flopped down on the bed.

It was the softest thing I had felt ever. God I could die here.

Before I knew it, I was asleep.

****************************

WC: 2048