One Last Time Read Online Free

thrilling to send you on a treasure hunt of sorts.” The oddness of his statement gets everyone’s attention, including mine. My stomach begins flip-flopping again, swirling the Port and crème brûlée inside my belly. Go on a treasure hunt inside this creepy house? Is he kidding? There’s no way I’m participating in Brackett’s crazy game. I’ve done my job filling in, even though it wasn’t needed, but I refuse to go traipsing through this haunted mansion.
    “There are three floors, thirty-six bedrooms, twenty-four bathrooms, a conservatory, a library, a billiard room, a couple of dens, several sitting rooms, a kitchen, dozens of hallways, an attic, a basement, the cupola, several staircases, and”—his eyes dance in excitement, during his dramatic pause—“a few secret passageways.”
    “And just what is it we are hunting for?” Regina asks, using her sultry voice as she traces her finger along the rim of her chalice.
    Mr. Brackett pulls a cigar from his coat pocket and runs it beneath his nose, inhaling the aroma of the expensive smoke. A resounding thunderclap explodes outside the mansion, shaking the historical home and knocking out the power. From the darkness, Mr. Brackett answers Regina’s question. “You’ll be looking for a way out.”
     
     

Chapter 4
     
    The darkness is suffocating. Even the flame on the three candles vanished when the thunder shook the room. I lift my hand in front of my face, but I can’t see anything. I don’t want to panic, but I am terrified, fear choking the voice from my throat. I am utterly speechless. I want to make a run for the kitchen directly to Mike, but in the blackness, I have lost my bearings.
    It seems everyone at the table has been stunned to silence as well. Then, little by little, their voices arise out of the foreboding darkness. They hurl their questions at Mr. Brackett, who remains silent. Peter Butler curses in an angry Texas drawl, demanding the damn lights be turned back on immediately. It’s Regina who answers his demand by flicking on her lighter and igniting the wick on the candle directly in front of her. The faint glow of light shatters the menacing darkness, releasing sighs from the guests and bringing a bit of relief to the table.
    Austin Phinney quickly picks up the candle and lights the wicks on the other two. Able to see more clearly now, we all turn to face Mr. Brackett for some sort of explanation to his bizarre announcement, but his chair is empty. For some reason, all eyes shift to me. Even Quillan is staring at me from across the table with those luscious eyes of his. I wonder why everyone is looking at me. I swallow hard, fearing maybe the ghost of Emily Faulkner is standing directly behind me. My dumbfounded expression must be noticeable because Quillan quickly makes his opinion known on the matter. “I don’t think she has a clue as to what her uncle is doing. She seems just as surprised as the rest of us.”
    My uncle! That’s right! Mr. Brackett introduced me as his niece.
    “Well, I’m not one to play childish games, especially those which glorify the occult and incite fear.” The ultraconservative Tony Chizzam faces me as he stands. “I agreed to come here tonight because I was possibly interested in funding a boarding school. Your uncle’s proposal sounded promising, as if he intended to bring some good to a place with a very dark past. I am all about redemption, but I refuse to be drawn into a game that glorifies the tragic events that took place here. Thank your uncle for me. However, I am no longer interested in investing.” The others stand in agreement, ready to leave as well. I could care less so I don’t respond. Besides, what can I say? I am pretty much hating Mr. Brackett right now, so if no one invests in his little venture, it’s not my responsibility. I’ve done my duty for the night. I’ve eaten a nice dinner, gazed across the table at the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, and got paid for doing it.