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Once inside, I fumbled for the box of matches, striking the head of one and lighting the candle on the table, turning around to find a room that looked strange to me.

Fuck.

I was in a bedroom, but not mine.

The four-poster bed was obscenely larger than mine, and this room had a fireplace.

I remapped the way I’d taken to get here, counting the landings I’d passed.

It was hazy, but I must’ve stopped one floor too soon on my descent.

His scent reached me then . . . sea salt, fresh from the ocean.

Leo.

This was his room.

Located directly above mine.

I giggled.

Then burped.

He’s gone for the night, my inner voice taunted me. The perfume of a storm over open water caressing the little sense I had left.

Let’s just look around. What’s it going to hurt?

My self-induced haze had me walking to his bed, running my fingers along the cool dark sheets, spidering my fingertips over one of the onyx posts.

His room was simple, nothing fancy. Not what I would expect from a king, but what I would expect from Leo.

Deep colored velvet curtains were drawn closed over his windows. Pulling one back revealed his view was the same as mine, the fields of green now gray under the moonlight.

A door off to the side led to a private bathroom; a large clawfoot tub dominating most of the space, a small sink and toilet positioned along the far wall.

I imagined Leo sprawled beneath the warm water of the bath. His eyes closed as he rested his head back. His arms draped over the sides.

Swallowing, I stepped away.

I sat down on the end of his bed, closing my eyes, feeling dizzy from all the alcohol.

You can’t fall asleep here, you need to go back to your room . . . the sober part of my brain chastised me.

I opened my eyes to obey when a shimmer above the fireplace caught my attention, a black satin sheet neatly arranged, seemingly floating above the mantel.

An odd place for a sheet to be.

I stumbled forward and lifted the bottom corner, peeking underneath.

It was some sort of framed artwork.

I looked around for something to stand on and found a small wooden stool in the corner.

Dragging it to the fireplace, I stepped up on it, giving me the height I needed to see more of the piece.

It was a painting.

I lifted the satin higher, standing on my tiptoes, only to lose my balance, letting out a screech as I fell sideways and onto the floor.