Scarlet Vows

4.

I jolted awake.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light of my room, the shapes of familiar furniture slowly coming into focus. I forced myself upright, fighting the overwhelming urge to close my eyes again. They burned, pleading for sleep, as fatigue weighed heavily on my entire body. But the persistent ring of my phone shattered any hope of slipping back into oblivion. I felt the gentle touch of a hand on my shoulder.

Turning, I found Aren beside me, sitting on the bed, watching me expectantly.

The events of last night flooded back, snapping me fully awake. After my bath, I had collapsed face-first into the pillow, too exhausted to even acknowledge him.

"Your phone's been ringing," he said softly, handing me the device. He was still in the same clothes as last night, but unlike me, he didn't seem nearly as worn out. I murmured a thank you and answered the call. It was my assistant, Charlotte.

"Charlotte," I said as soon as I answered the call, "Isn't it a bit early for this?"

Charlotte hesitated, as she often did, but answered nonetheless. "Ma'am, it's 6 PM. We have an issue."

My eyes flew open, darting to the clock on the wall. It was indeed five past six in the evening. Aren rose from the bed and settled into the armchair, retrieving the novel from the coffee table. He must have been reading while I slept. I was relieved he hadn't gone to greet my family. Or had he?

"Charlotte, I'm in the middle of something," I said, eager to end the call and ask Aren if he'd interacted with my siblings. "Is it urgent?"

She didn't hesitate this time. "Yes, Derek doesn't want to shoot."

I nearly dropped the phone.

Derek Hilton. The heartthrob of teenage girls with raging hormones. Beyond his looks, I found little to be impressed by. But, I cannot bring my personal opinions into business. He had signed on to model for our skincare brand, and ever since he'd been a constant headache. If things didn't go his way, he refused to shoot or started throwing things around. My brand would benefit greatly with his face on it, and that was the only reason I tolerated his tantrums. Also, he was my best friend. 

"On my way," I told Charlotte, then disconnected the call.

I turned my attention to Aren. "You didn't talk to my family, did you?"

He lifted his eyes from the book and shook his head. "But..." he began slowly, "the twins were here."

My mouth opened in alarm, but he quickly continued, "I didn't speak to them. I hid in your bathroom. They felt guilty about last night's ritual and came to apologize." His lips curved into a warm smile. "They pressed their faces to the wall and did a five-minute timeout. I didn't quite get that part."

I sighed in relief and flopped back onto the bed. "Thank you."

"Sissy Sera," Aren said, setting the book down and crossing one leg over the other, "they don't have the pages."

I frowned. "How do you know?"

"A part of their apology was telling you they gave you everything they found and that you should get rid of it. They said ghosts don't exist and you were right. They didn't seem to be lying. You can rest assured that no part of that wretched book is with them. Honestly, I'm relieved too. That thing is not for children, especially human ones."

Despite his words, he didn't seem entirely at ease. His brows knitted together, and though he tried to maintain his calm, his foot tapped restlessly on the floor, a sign of frustration he didn't seem to notice himself.