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The room was circular, moonlight seeping through the large domed ceiling vaulted with stained glass, titivating the white marble floor in a kaleidoscope of colour. A black velvet Cleopatra chaise sat in the middle of the room, a beacon of light illuminating the centrepiece. A dozen tall white vases shaped like statues of Greek gods and goddesses in various poses were scattered across the space, their heads sprouting vines and blood-red roses, perfuming the air with a soft floral scent. The depiction of Hades embracing his wife, Persephone, with foliage crawling down from their crowns, warmed my chest. Serenity floated in the atmosphere, characterized by the indoor waterfall bolted over one side of the room, water trickling over a mass of rocks.
Soothing.
Everflowing.
This was a slice of paradise on earth.
I spun to capture every detail of the conservatory room, my robe cascading around me. “It’s absolutely stunning.”
When I came to a stop, my beautiful, scarred husband’s slow, burning gaze reduced me to ash. He rasped with something akin to awe, “Isn’t it?”
The double entendre of his words rendered me short of breath.
Mosaic-light caparisoned his face as an intense expression played on his features.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“It’s your new office.”
I blinked. “What?”
Zeno walked closer. His eyes never once wavered from mine. “Do you like it?” He threaded two fingers into the loop of my sash and tugged me to him. “I had it refurnished for you.”
Heart stammering, I asked, “When?”
Zeno steeled, fixing his gaze on the waterfall. “When I left your house…after you told me you were a writer.”
Tumultuous feelings warred inside of me. Without meaning to, my fingers grazed the scruff on his jaw to turn his face my way. “You didn’t have to. Truly.”
“Do you like it?”
The water was a constant peaceful trill and the openness of the room would allow natural light to filter through when I worked. It was every writer’s dream and I loved it. “It’s perfect, Zed.”
The use of his nickname pleased him.
“You always give me things, but I haven’t given you anything.”
I was beginning to realize that maybe this wasn’t Zeno’s way of purchasing me or keeping me pacified. My Lamborghini wasn’t a bribe. My stolen hairpins weren’t a playful tease. And my new office wasn’t an incentive for anything else. These were just things he did because this was how he showed he cared.
Life had a dry sense of humour.
I was a writer who was not afraid to express my thoughts, and my husband was a punisher who only knew how to talk with actions.
We were a contrasting pairing yet somehow…we fit.
“You want to give me something,mon trésor?” he grated, walking me backward with his muscles and that commandeering aura.
Mon trésor.
My treasure.
There was something about the night that lowered Zeno’s guard and made him more vulnerable, more raw, more approachable.
I swallowed, retreating on our chessboard. “Only if it’s something reasonable.”
We stopped once we reached the middle of the room, right next to the Cleopatra chaise.
Zeno leaned down to whisper in my ear, “I want to take you on a date.”
