Page 74 of Roses & Ruin

“I mean, can you even call this a mansion? What do you have?” I say, grinning. Now that he’s allowing himself to look at me, Hayden takes his greedy fill. His eyes roam every inch of my face at least twice before he responds.

“I have a vault.”

“Whoa,” I breathe, blinking rapidly. A vault? Good lord. He really is rich-rich. “Can you take me there? I’ve never seen a huge stack of money except on Breaking Bad.” Something glints in Hayden’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. “Come on.”

Chapter 27

It turns out that Hayden’s vault is attached to his bedroom. I have not yet been inside any of Hayden’s bedrooms—not in this life, at least—and I have no idea how many he currently has, though all signs point to a lot, but this absolutely has to be his nicest, biggest, fanciest one.

The room alone is bigger than my entire house in Irvine. The dark red carpet is plush as pillows, and the walls are painted a deep, moody green. The ceiling’s vaulted and the lighting is low and warm from sconces and an already-lit stone fireplace. Two plum velvet wingback chairs are placed near the hearth, angled toward the fire, and a set of French doors leads out to a snow-dusted balcony overlooking the unending stretch of the rocky sea.

Then there’s Hayden’s bed. It’s four-postered and huge—bigger than a king-size, I think. Everything about it is decadent, the wooden headboard and posts a rich mahogany, the lush wine-red linen embroidered in gold brocade.

Have we been together on this bed before? I feel a flush swoop down the front of my throat at the thought. I catch Hayden watching me with dark eyes. I smooth a hand down my sweater and clear my throat.

“Have I visited here before?”

“No,” he says. “I haven’t had any guests here since I inherited it from my grandnephew.”

“Oh.” I bite my lip when what he’s said registers. I go to him, and he doesn’t pull away when I tuck my face against his chest. “I didn’t realize you’d had a sibling.”

“He was very young when I was turned. Probably not even three yet.” I love how his deep voice rumbles against my cheek. “I don’t really remember.” He pulls back to meet my eyes. “But I’ve had Delia for centuries now. And you.”

I wonder if he’ll pull back if I rise up and try and kiss him.

“Come on,” he says, pulling back anyway. “I want to show you my vault.”

“Your vault? Not our vault?” I tease.

His smile, oddly, gets sad. “You’ll see.”

He pulls me through a door by an arched window I had thought led to an en suite bathroom. Instead, it leads to another door, this one polished, nearly brand-new. Beside it on the wall is an electric padlock. Hayden lifts the plastic cover to type in the password.

“Bet I could guess the code,” I blurt. Hayden pauses before breaking into a smug grin. He leans against the wall.

“Knock yourself out,” he says, eyes dancing.

Our visit to Hemlock Cove Cemetery taught me I’ve always had the same birthday, November 14.

I type in original Rose’s birthday. The light on the padlock flashes an alarming red, and a single, obnoxious beep splits the room.

“Jeez.” I wince. “How much do you have in here? Not exactly in a high-traffic area.” Hayden just crosses his arms and shrugs.

I try the date the original Rose died. Another beep, more red light flashing.

“One more wrong answer and you initiate lockdown mode for seventy-two hours,” Hayden warns. I frown back at the padlock. This started as a dumb trick, but now I feel like every other Rose would have gotten it on the first try.

What does it mean about me and Hayden if I don’t guess it at all?

“You’re overthinking it.” Hayden’s lips brush my temple, his hands resting lightly on either side of my hips. As always, my heartbeat speeds up at his touch. I feel his knowing smile in my hair as he senses the quickening of my pulse. “I come back here more than I probably should,” he confesses. “When I found you again, the first thing I did was come back here.”

I don’t think about it too hard. I just put in my current birthday, year and all.

The light turns green and the door unlocks with a loud click. I don’t expect to be as surprised, as touched as I am. I guess there’s still a small part of me that thinks Hayden has favorites.

“Welcome,” Hayden says, strangely quiet, “to my vault.” When I step into the rotunda-like room, I clap my hands over my mouth. There are no gold bars here. No stacks of dollar bills, jewels, or coins here.