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CHAPTER3
Ava
By the time I woke again, it was late morning. When I opened my eyes, I saw Cyrus sitting in a leather armchair by the window reading a book. He must have heard me stir because his warm gaze sought me out. With a soft smile, he cocked his head.
“Good morning. How did you sleep?” he began.
“Well, I guess,” I answered shyly. To be honest, I’d fallen into a deep slumber once he’d come back into the room. I hadn’t woken up again, not even once. I blinked a few times, trying to shake off the heavy exhaustion that still had a hold of me. With a soft groan, I rubbed my hand over my face. I knew I must look like a mess. I hadn’t even washed the makeup off my face and here he was seeing me in all my crazy looking morning glory. What a sight I must be.
I hoped I hadn’t snored, or worse, drooled last night on top of that.
“There’s an extra toothbrush and anything you might need in that bathroom over there,” he offered, pointing off to the right.
“Thanks,” I muttered with embarrassment.
Hastily, I pushed myself out of bed and let his flannel button-up fall into place. I dashed off into the bathroom, wanting to the see the travesty that was my face. When I looked in the mirror, it wasn’t as bad as I expected, but it was still a little rough. My makeup was smeared. My eyes were a bit red, and my hair was nothing less than an oversized bird’s nest.
I splashed some water on my face first. There were individually wrapped makeup wipes and I grabbed one. I ripped the foil open and scrubbed my face clean. I opened a brand new toothbrush next and brushed my teeth. When I was done, I used the toilet to relieve my ridiculously full bladder.
There was a new brush on the counter, and I used that to tame my wild mane as best I could. When I was finished, my long thick hair fell around my face in waves. Without makeup, I felt plain. I didn’t have any of my things though, so I was just going to have to deal with it.
I pulled my shoulders back and took a deep breath before I returned to the bedroom. Cyrus was right where I left him.
“What are you reading?” I asked quietly.
He slipped a bookmark into place. I was happy to see he wasn’t the sort of monster that folded the pages of a book.
That would make him undate-able.
I almost choked at the thought. I’d officially lost my mind.
“It’s a thriller by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. It’s called Relic. They tried making it into a movie, but it was terrible from what I hear,” he explained with a smile. He slowly closed the book, put it down on a side table, and stood up.
“Come, follow me to the kitchen. I’ll make you breakfast.”
I didn’t know what else to do, so I padded behind him down the hallway.
In the daylight, the apartment appeared even grander than it did at night. Each piece of furniture had been painstakingly put together with explicit detail that could never be duplicated in a factory. Some appeared to be antiques, while others more modern, but everything came together to make the whole place seem expensive and homey at the same time.
The hardwood floors were lined with soft carpet runners, and I sank a little into them with every step. It was like walking on a cloud.
I reached out and touched the cool mahogany dining table.
“I had that piece flown in from an Italian woodworker based out of Sicily,” Cyrus mentioned as I studied the intricately carved edges. I traced my fingertip along the swirling design before I looked back up at him.
“It’s beautiful,” I said softly.
“Take a seat.” He indicated the table, and I slowly sat down on one of the padded chairs. The cushion was soft beneath me, and I turned to watch him in the kitchen.
“Do you cook?” I asked curiously, furrowing my brow as he opened the refrigerator. He raised an eyebrow in my direction and snorted like I’d said the funniest thing in the world.
“I know my way around a kitchen,” he smirked. “Now, while I’m cooking breakfast, you will tell me what really happened last night.”
I swallowed hard. Despite everything that had happened between us so far, I still didn’t want to tell him what really happened, and I wasn’t quite certain what I’d done to tip him off to make him think I was lying. He was a kind man and if I was completely honest with him, I could potentially put him in danger too and I really didn’t want to do that.
I didn’t know what else to do, so I feigned annoyance and stuck to my story.
“I don’t know why you keep asking,” I spat. “I got in a fight with my boyfriend and he’s not so nice when he gets angry.”
