Mrs. Ricci Wants Me Dead

Sera

Vague memories of Killian leaving my room before the sun came up flittered through my mind. I could still taste his kiss, however, and that made me feel so warm and cozy that I almost, almost, forgot that I was technically his prisoner.

I shoved that thought away and pulled on a comfy matching cashmere sweater set, then tied my hair into a bun on the top of my head. At a quarter past nine, Olivia still hadn’t come in with breakfast, and I’d definitely taken notice of the fact that Killian had left my door open. Hungry, I stepped out into the darkened third-floor hallway and walked downstairs in search of food and company.

The house was eerily silent. Even the main kitchen lacked the usual hustle. A maid mopped the floor while I passed through the dining room. She mentioned that one of the “guys,” which was what I’d come to learn meant anyone who worked for Killian as a soldier, had left donuts in the informal kitchen in the back of the house.

Even that part of the house was quiet