She stiffens in my hold a split second before I feel an elbow to my gut that makes me double over with a groan. And by the time I’ve righted myself, all I see is a flash of blonde hair as she makes her escape.
With a shake of my head, as though to banish the spell that she’s clearly cast over me, I sink into my desk chair.
I can’t knock the feeling that her three questions have left me with a dozen more of my own.
And despite my better judgment, knowing I should keep my distance, I’m determined to get answers.
CHAPTER 7
ELODIE
It’s past midnight,and I can’t fall asleep. I’ve spent what feels like hours tossing and turning and, at this point, I’m moments away from completely losing my freaking shit.
I flip over onto my back with a huff before sitting up to throw the suddenly too-heavy covers off completely. Then I twist my long hair into a messy knot, securing it with the clip I’d left on the nightstand earlier.
You don’t remember, do you,Stellina.
My jaw clenches as I squeeze my eyes closed so tightly it hurts, picturing the look on Rafe’s face earlier.
Part disappointment.
Part hope.
It had only succeeded in filling me withcompletefrustration.
I scrub my hands up and down my face before looking around the room as though the answers I’m searching for are lying hidden amongst the shadows.
“Rememberwhat?”
My hoarsely spoken words whisper through the warm night air while my mind jumps from one possibility to another, striving desperately to get a hold of my thoughts.
Breath hitching, my heartbeat increases tenfold when my eyelids flicker closed. In my mind’s eye, I can make out a hazy vision of myself, wearing a simple white dress. My hair is tied loosely at the nape of my neck, and there’s a bright smile on my face that reaches my eyes, making them sparkle.
“Cosa succede quando esprimi un desiderio una stella?”
A deep voice whispers words IknowI’ve heard before, and I edge closer to answers I’m desperate to find, until a loud bang from somewhere else in the house splinters the silence of the night.
My eyes fly open, and my feet hit the floor before I’m even conscious of my actions. I poke my head out into the hallway and, despite both Maria and Sasquatch assuring me that I will be treated as a valued guest while I’m here, I freeze in indecision.
The sound of glass shattering followed by a door slamming makes my mind up for me, and my feet swiftly follow the sound, bringing me to the top of the staircase.
A tall, slender woman covered in, what I’mprayingis red wine is ascending as I begin to make my way down. When her eyes find mine, I realize immediately that she’s clearly more than a little drunk. Though she keeps her narrowed, angry eyes on me the whole way, I’m grateful when she moves past me without a word.
I watch after her until she disappears from my line of sight, and then I make a split-second decision to venture toward the kitchen. A glass of warm milk might work.
I’m almost at my destination, when I hear footsteps and two male voices murmuring quietly. Rather than risk being seen—even after the reassurances I’d received—I slip inside the first room I find, lightly closing the door behind me with a softsnick.
With my back pressed against the wood, I take a moment to allow my racing heart to slow as my eyes scan the space, widening in sheer delight when I see a pristine grand piano.She’s bathed in moonlight, her ivories bared and beckoning me onward.
My bare feet pad closer, sidestepping a smashed decanter of red wine that confirms my earlier suspicions, until I’m standing right beside her. I reach out my right hand to skim my index and middle fingers over the smooth keys, relishing the familiar feel as though she’s an old friend, even though my playing was always subpar.
“Do you play?”
I jolt, slamming my hand onto the piano keys, causing a loudtwangto reverberate through the room as my eyes search the darkness for the unmistakable owner of that gravelly voice.
With a dark chuckle, Rafe unfolds himself from an armchair in a darkened alcove. The moon paints his features in shadow as he walks closer, having deposited an empty tumbler from his rose-tattooed hand onto a nearby shelf.
He looks disheveled, with his white shirt open at the collar and sleeves rolled up to his elbows to display the sexiest fucking forearms I’ve ever seen. His hair is messy, as though he’s been raking his fingers through it, and my own itch with the desire to touch those locks. To determine if they’re as soft as they look.
