The butler pushed open the tall doors, and the sound of them walking in as the floor creaked echoed through the hallway.
The moment we entered, my eyes wandered around the room, which looked like a private lounge.
The room was different from the intimidating grandeur of the main hall. It was warmer, yet no less commanding.
Dark wooden shelves lined with leather-bound books stretched across the walls.
An electric fire crackled quietly in the fireplace, casting orange light that made shadows dance across the maroon carpet. Everything smelled faintly of polished wood and old cigars.
Matteo moved first, though he didn't rush.
His steps were smooth and deliberate, as if he knew we had no choice but to follow. He didn't look back to check either. The man radiated authority in a way that did not need confirmation.
Edward set Emma down gently, and I stepped forward to scoop her into my arms.
