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BJ!
I took a step forward, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it. And fuckin’ stared. Two rooms had been knocked into one to make one massive space. The walls were black and the words ‘No Fear’ were painted in white using large Calligraphy font. They glowed in the light from a real fire roaring in the fireplace. It was a long time since I had seen real logs.
A large chandelier hung from an iron hook in the ceiling that looked more like a meat hook. The bed was a huge wrought iron four-poster, obviously custom. It had deep red fleur de-lis patterned brocade curtains that had been gathered and held together by gold and black ties. On the bedside tables on either side of it were candelabras with real candles that had dripped wax onto the gilt handles.
Wow! This was what lay inside BJ.
His cold eyes hid the stage set of a seventeenth-century play. A dungeon! Or a torture chamber. But not in a horrible way. There was something irresistibly seductive about it. Like walking into his private world or looking into his soul. Dark and dangerous but I was strangely drawn to it.
I tried to imagine the room with the candelabras on. The candlelight dancing off the walls. My eyes moved to the bed and I saw me crushed under BJ’s large body, the light making his muscles gleam. The image was so erotic I felt a flutter in my tummy, but it was also very disturbing.
I hated the man. And that was putting it politely.
And yet, here I was in his bedroom. A place I should never have been in. But unwilling to leave I walked to the middle of the room, my petticoats rustling, the heels of my shoes loud and echoing on the hardwood floor.
As if pulled by invisible hands I walked toward a dresser. It looked like an antique. In a trance I stroked the metal handle. It was cool, smooth, full of all the things it had seen for hundred of years, the squabbles, the trysts. He had touched this. His large hands had curled around it and pulled. A frisson of excitement ran over my skin. I pulled at the metal. It slid open with a whisper, smoothly, like it was on roller blades.
I stared at the contents.
Velvet boxes. Piled on top of one another. So many. I took one and opened it. A tiepin with a blue stone glittered up at me. I opened another. A tiepin with a black panther. It was obviously an old one. I opened another and froze. A tiepin that said ‘Layla’ in cursive writing. I lifted my head and looked at the mirror above the dresser. I looked different, strange, shocked. I shouldn’t be here. This was wrong. I looked into my eyes.
What the fuck are you doing, Layla?
And then I did a strange thing. I’d never done anything like that before. I was a good girl. I’d always been a good girl. I took the tiepin out of its box, opened my purse, and…. Oops… it fell in. I raised my head and saw my reflection: it was no longer alone in the mirror. BJ was standing in the doorway. His big, powerful body filled it entirely.
Oh God!
Cold fear raced down my spine, my pulse accelerated wildly and my mind went into overdrive. Maybe he had not seen me lift his tiepin. Perhaps I could just slip past him. Or I could pretend I was lost. I did not know I was in his bedroom. Maybe. Just maybe. I turned around and faced him. Some men have looks, other have charm, BJ had presence. The moment he appeared in a room he owned it. He changed the atmosphere the way a grizzly coming into a room would.
He was wearing a silver hoop in his right ear, a black shirt tucked into an army surplus camouflage trousers and combat boots. Straightening my back I began to walk toward him. He remained still. He really was so damn huge. My heart started to hammer inside my chest. I was only five feet away. I could see his eyes. They were deliberately blank. His mouth was a forbidding line. For a moment I had the impression of sexual tension. But of course, that was a trick of my overawed emotions.
A foot away from him I stopped. The scar on the top of his left cheek appeared alive in the firelight. No man had ever looked more dangerous or inhospitable.
‘Sorry,’ I said coolly. ‘I got lost. I guess I better get back to the party.’
He did not move aside.
I clenched my handbag nervously. ‘Will you please move?’
‘You want to pass. Squeeze past,’ he suggested, absolutely no expression on his face.
‘How dare you? I’ll call my brother.’
Something flashed in his eyes. I knew then that I’d made a mistake. I should have been more humble. It
would have made my escape easier. He slipped his large hand into his trouser pocket and brought out a phone.
‘That’s a good idea.’ His voice was silky and dangerous. ‘Call him. Last time I looked he was with his pregnant wife. I believe your mother was sitting nearby, too. They can all rush up here to my bedroom and save their little princess.’
‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ I said contemptuously. Attack was the best form of defense.
‘You’re a thief, Layla.’
My cheeks flamed, but I was not giving up so easily. ‘I’m not,’ I cried hotly.
‘You have nothing to fear then. Call your brother,’ he invited.
I bit my lip. ‘Look. I’m sorry I was in your bedroom. I’ll just go downstairs and we won’t spoil anybody else’s night, OK?’
