6 - Company

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A long car pulled into the driveway, circling to the front entrance. The first thing to step out of the car was a pair of red Italian heels, their owner a strawberry-blonde woman adorned in pearls and wrapped in a floral dress.

The second thing to step out of the car was Patrick, his crooked smile built into his face as if he was born with it.

"How long has it been, Rose?" he asked, holding out his elbow to escort her. "I feel like this place gets smaller and smaller each time we visit."

"That's because your pockets get deeper and deeper, Patrick," the woman replied without a hint of sarcasm despite her subtle smile.

"They have to," he laughed. "That's where I keep my good character."

He waved to Mrs. Greene, who was opening the door of the house. She lifted her skirts, trotting down to meet them.

"Mrs. Greene!" Patrick said, reaching out to take her hand. "Still the belle of the Griffin Manor, I see."

He leaned in and kissed her cheek as she rolled her eyes at him.

"Your flattery never ceases, does it?" Mrs. Green replied. "But I can't take your praise. This house now has a woman younger and more beautiful than myself."

Rose's heart dropped for a moment, but she hid it behind a polite smile.

"Oh, my dear Miss Elliot!" Mrs. Greene said with a beaming smile. "What a joy it is to see you! You look wonderful as ever."

Rose dipped her head in appreciation. "Always a pleasure, Madam."

"You were no older than nineteen when I last saw you, dear. You've certainly grown into a stunning woman."

"That's the direction most girls go," Patrick interjected, "whether they do it on purpose or not. Unlike the men in my family. We only turn into demons. Where is my dear cousin, Mrs. Greene?"

"Inspecting the latest harvest. I'll fetch him for you, if you'd be so kind to wait in the family room."

"An appropriate place to wait."

The staff took Rose and Patrick's coats, escorting them to the family room. Rose couldn't help but look at the heavy pale blue and white curtains, bringing out the color in the lavish ivory furniture and rugs. The smell of burnt firewood and lemon cleaner brought back childhood memories she had long forgotten, back when the current master of the Griffin Manor was only a child who dreamed to be just like his father.

Years before he was called the Beast of Napa.

"I see Nathaniel still likes French tapestries and Italian rugs," Rose said with a smile. "He hasn't changed a bit."

"Let's hope his affections have," Patrick cut in. "Tha man has loved nothing more than his success and his vineyard for too long."

"That hasn't hurt you any."

"True. But if he doesn't see the beautiful things in front of him," he said, motioning to Rose, "how can I enjoy even more of his spoils?"

She shook her strawberry-blonde curls at him. "You're a mooch, Patrick."

"I'm an investor."

"You're a thorn," a third voice said behind them.

Griffin stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. Rose lost her breath when she saw him, unable to hold back the childlike smile he brought out of her. He looked stronger than he ever had, and more human than the newspapers had reported. It put her heart at ease.

What he truly felt in his heart, however, remained a mystery.

Patrick waved a finger at him. "Always the charmer, cousin."

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