Finally, alone, or at least, for the time being, I head to the loveseat that is stationed in front of the fireplace.
Sitting on the rich emerald loveseat, I lean back into the soft, velvety fabric. I close my eyes and bring my fingertips to my temples, trying to process this evening. I had a feeling that something would transpire between Carmine and me.
There is an undeniable physical chemistry between us, I felt it the moment my hand lingered in his last night at The Sandy Claws. The physicality of our interaction, however, doesn’t bother me as much as him being my fucking boss. Fuck. That definitely complicates things.
I open my eyes, adjusting my posture as I decide to look around the room instead of stew on the boundary, I demolished the moment I agreed to this evening with Carmine. My eye is drawn to the grand fireplace and ornate built-ins that surround it. They are stained in a rich walnut, each with a unique, pointed arch top, creating a moody yet serene ambiance. Atop of each of the pointed arches are ornate scrolls worked into the wood trim, with what appears to be a gargoyle design laced into the woodwork.
I scan the shelves over some more from the loveseat, while I wait for Carmine. Curiosity and impatience begin to take hold of me with each passing moment. I rise from my seat, and just as I am about to head toward the bookcases, I hear what sounds like a thud come from the hallway. I turn, looking over my shoulder, expecting to see Carmine in the open doorway, but he is not there. No one is.
I turn my attention back to the bookcase and decide that while I wait for Carmine to return, there is no harm in indulging my curiosity a bit.
You can tell a lot about a person by the contents of their personal book collection, and I am dying to know what Carmine’s shelves say about him.
There are six full bookcases by the fireplace alone, not including the two slender ones near the entrance of the study, just past where the pocket door slides open. He must enjoy reading, or at the bare minimum, enjoy being surrounded by books. Either way, a man who submerses himself in this many books intrigues my bookworm heart.
As I examine the shelves, I am met with an array of non-fiction books. Expected, but boring. I take in the mix of eclectic décor and more books. Most of what I see are business books, along with some biographies, but nothing that I would want to curl up and read. I almost give up perusing, when I spot a collection of what seems to be some romance novels on the far-left bookcase. Unexpected, but a nice surprise. He must be reading something and taking notes, for the way he worked me before.I support it.
Just as I am about to head back to my seat, my eye catches a black velvet box on the shelf just above his small collection of romance books. The box is decent in size, not too big but large enough that it stands out amongst the sea of the books that surround it. Even in the dimly lit den, among the dark wood shelves that encompass the room, my eye can’t unsee this damn box.
I tiptoe closer to the box to inspect it more, but the shelf is just out of my reach. I look over my shoulder to see if Carmine is back yet, on the off chance he wouldn’t have made his presence known upon arrival.
Once I confirm the coast is clear, I walk to the bistro table where Carmine and I ate our appetizers in the study and quietly lift one of the chairs so I can use it to give me a boost. Placing the chair in front of the bookcase, I hike up my dress and step up, so I am now eye-level with the black box.
Now that I am closer, I see that it’s made of the same material as the velvet loveseat. I run my hand on it, the soft texture sends an unexpected chill down my spine, and for some reason, in response to the chill, I decide to turn over the box.
Not sure what I am expecting to find or why I need to scrutinize this box anymore, I do it anyway. Nothing about this night makes sense already, so might as well stay on brand and keep snooping.
I take both hands and slowly turn the box to get a look at the back on the off chance that it is different than the seemingly plain front. The soft texture of the box glides without making a sound on the wood shelf as I rotate its position.
To my surprise, the back of the box is different. Centered in the middle is a bronze keyhole in a shape that looks like an elongated skeleton. I would say it’s probably made for an antique skeleton key, but the shape of where the key should be inserted to open the box looks nothing like any opening for a skeleton key that I have ever seen.
I squint at the locked box, as if that has any power to open it. Suddenly, I hear footsteps, accompanied by a bell-like sound.Shit.
I turn and am immediately met with the rumble of his seductive baritone filling the room. “Looking for this?” Carmine taunts as he reaches underneath his shirt, unveiling a long chain with a large fucking skeleton key attached to it.Double shit.
I feel a lump form in my throat as my stomach feels like it is sinking. And here I was worried about crossing a boundary with Carmine. Now, I not only have crossed one boundary, I tacked on another one: snooping around.
Before I could open my mouth to defend myself, he brings his index finger to his pursed lips, motioning for me to be quiet. The fierce look in his eyes has my heart beating so fast, I swear I can hear the blood swishing in my ears.
“I told you to make yourself at home, not snoop through my shit,” he growls. His gaze shifts to the box that I clearly moved from its original position for a moment before diverting his attention back to me.
He continues, “Just like the locket I gifted you, I told you that I had the key. It also applies to that box you were trying to sneak into,” he says, cryptically, as he reaches in the pocket of his striped suit jacket for a smoke.
As he lights up, it’s then I look down and realize the jingle noise I heard when he entered the room belongs to the collar of the most unique-looking pit bull I have ever seen. He is albino, with beautiful, big, light eyes. The dog wags his tail as if he was waiting for me to notice him and prances over to me. An adorably welcome distraction, I kneel to pet him, hoping Carmine will move on from this.
“Don’t think because Nada likes you that you’ll get off the hook that easily,” he says as he exhales dramatically.
Still petting Nada, I look up at Carmine, whose towering presence makes my bent knees feel even weaker.
“Sorry, I just—” I begin before he cuts me off.
“You just what?” he asks, with a tense jaw.
I pet Nada once more as he wags his tail and heads to the dog bed right by the fireplace that I somehow missed before. I follow Nada’s prancing, trying to formulate the proper excuse as to why I was snooping around.
“You just what?” he repeats.
“Well, I was trying to tell you, but you interrupted me, for starters,” I say, expecting him to have some smart-ass remark in return.
