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Jacinta approaches with two glasses of champagne and Jem's mouth curls. "Where the fuck is my drink?"
She blinks at him. "You asked me to get her a drink."
“And me?“ The dark edge to his tone frightens me more than Jacinta because she merely gazes at him blankly. "Fuck it, I'll have champagne." He grabs the drink and knocks back the contents in two gulps before shoving the glass back at her. "Bourbon."
Through the whole exchange, he hasn't taken his eyes off me. I shuffle towards the door, away from the broken plate. He remains seated on the coffee table, his coiled muscles and predatory stare terrifying me. My sarcasm and wit fail at the exact moment I need them.
"Enjoy your stay, Sky," he says and snorts softly to himself.
I'm certain Jacinta’s interruption wound back whatever he intended to do.
"Thanks," I mumble.
Jem allows me to leave.
Dazed, I retrace the steps from before, wanting to find my way back to the bedroom as soon as I can. The situation has more than freaked me out—meeting Jem was a slap in the face to the Sky who considered testing Dylan's world for a few days.
I step through another door, into another situation. The decor of the room matches the entrance hallway with black marble pillars stretching to the ceiling, stairs heading upwards towards the next floor of the house. A swimming pool fills the room, a jacuzzi bubbling quietly at one end.
This house is a dream house but also a place from my nightmares—identical hallways lined by identical doors—and now I'm living a bad dream.
Natural light pours through the windows, over the occupant of the pool. My shoes squeak on the grey marble tiles alerting the swimmer. Dylan. He stops and pushes a hand through his wet hair.
"I g-got lost," I stammer and back off.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Sky?" He swims over and pulls himself onto the edge of the pool, water trickling down his sculptured chest the same as the day by the sea. Why do I forget how eye-poppingly sexy this guy is?
He wipes water from his face. "You okay?"
"I've changed my mind. I want to leave," I tell him. “I’m lost in more ways than one. I want to go home." I hate the way my voice wavers, I hate I let Jem get to me, and most of all, I hate I agreed to stay here.
Dylan pulls himself to his feet while I attempt to avert my eyes from how his blue board shorts cling to his anatomy. Or how when they're wet, they sit that little bit lower on his hips, revealing that little bit more of the 'v' shape Grant never had. I attempt and fail.
"Sky, stop objectifying me and tell me what's wrong?"
His attempt at humour lightens me a little. "I don't feel right here, Dylan. This place—I’m not comfortable."
"Something upset you. You're shaking."
"No, I'm not."
Dylan grabs my hand and pulls it towards him. "Yes. Look."
I try to pull my hand away, but he closes his tightly around. "Did security not know who you were and got heavy? They shouldn’t because I told them about you."
I shake my head. "No. No. Honestly, Dylan, I'm okay."
Water drips down his face. "Okay." Dylan leans over to grab his towel from the floor. I don't know why I'm expecting more, but once I close him out by telling him I'm okay, he returns the favour. He scrutinises me as he dries his hair. "I was going to call you."
"Call me? We're in the same house."
"Technically."
"I suppose this place is the size of a hotel."
