Verum (The Nocte Trilogy, #2)(23)

I grab my robe and follow the haunting notes, finding myself in the salon.

I linger quietly in the massive doorway, watching Dare play the piano with the grace of a master. His long fingers drift across the keys and he stares out the window while he plays, his eyes absently watching the moors outside through the windows. The notes of the piano are haunting and low, delicate and high, and everywhere in between.

He doesn’t know I’m here, and I want to keep it that way, because right now, while he thinks no one is watching, Dare DuBray looks absolutely and heart-wrenchingly vulnerable.

He looks open and casual, thoughtful and real.

It’s the first real emotion I’ve seen on him.

It intrigues me, particularly since there isn’t a trace of his trademark arrogance.

For a moment, I forget his rudeness from earlier. All I can think of is how very different he seems right now.

This is the person I love, the person I don’t truly want to live without.

I’m so lost in my thoughts about him that I don’t even realize that he’s stopped playing. He’s staring at me by the time I realize it, and the guard is back up in his eyes.

“Do you need something, or are you just taking a walk at 3 am?” he asks, his voice low and calm.

I shake my head. “No, I was just on my way to the kitchens.”

“You must be turned around. They’re on the opposite side of the house,” he tells me evenly. I’m busted.

“Dare, what’s your secret?”

Because I have to know.

He stares at the keys, at his hands that are playing them.

“I can’t tell you.”

I nod, because I was expecting that.

I turn around, but then I pause.

“You play beautifully.”

He doesn’t answer, and I walk away.





Chapter 12





Moonlight sweeps across the hallway, illuminating the heavy furniture and expensive rugs. I’m unfazed by it as I leave Dare at his piano and continue down the hall.

I need to know what is being hidden from me.

I feel like everyone knows it but me.

Dare.

Sabine.

My father.

Even Eleanor.

If I were hiding something here, where would I put it?

The answer is immediate.

Eleanor’s office.

Surprisingly, it’s unlocked and I quietly slip inside, treading across the thick rugs until I’m sitting in her large chair. From here, I feel like I’m at the helm of a ship, and I open the drawer next to my left leg. File folders line up, waiting for me to explore them, and I run my hands along their tops, hunting.

My fingers pause on D.

Dare DuBray.

I almost hesitate as I pull it out and open it, but then I feel no remorse. He knows everything about me. I might as well know something about him.

Adair Phillip DuBray.

6’2. Brown hair, brown eyes.

Mother, Olivia, deceased.

Father, Phillip, deceased.

Step-father, Richard II, deceased.

He’s all alone. It hits me hard, because I know how that feels. His file is fairly short, and a few paragraphs have been redacted, two thick paragraphs with fat black lines drawn through them, preventing me from reading the words.

What is so bad that it can’t be exposed in his file?

I’m confused and agitated, but then my eyes narrow as I come to the part that discusses his part of the Savage estate.

When Richard I died, he’d left the bulk of the estate to Calla Price (me!) and Finn Price, but there is a small trust to take care of Dare for the rest of his life. He would inherit more only if Finn or I are deemed incompetent, or die.

Apparently, Eleanor didn’t inherit.

This shocks me to my core as I sit in her seat and imagine the way she looks so militant and in charge. She got nothing?

But I got… everything. Me and Finn.

Upon Finn’s death, his share went to me, not to Dare.

Why?

I don’t know how much it is worth, but judging by Whitley and the limousine, and the family business, Savage Inc, I know it must be worth a large fortune.

I’m worth a large fortune.

But only if I’m of sound mind.

Astounded, I slip the file back in, and I think I’m going to get up and leave when I see my name.

I yank the file out, wasting no time in examining it.

Calla Elizabeth Price.

Female twin to Finn. Red hair, blue eyes, 5’7”. Dress size, six. Shoe size, eight. Attended public high school at Astoria High. Grade point average, 3.9. Allergies, nuts.

My eyes continue to skim over my own statistics, down to the more nitty-gritty. Mental health.

Her brother Finn was found to be schizoaffective when they were five, diagnosed by American doctors and treated with Lithium and Haldol, with the occasional Xanax for panic attacks. Symptoms of his disease are hallucinations, delusions, mood swings, mania/depressions.

Calla on the other hand…

“What are you doing in here?”

I recognize Sabine’s voice immediately from her stance in the doorway, and I fluidly close the file and slide it back in the drawer in one motion.

“Uh…” my heart pounds. “I’m hunting for something.”

Sabine doesn’t move, but her dark eyes gleam in the night.