AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I rarely tease about food or sex.”
Change the subject, Eden.
“Let me guess. You also hired musicians who are standing only feet inside that closed door.”
When he offered a wide grin, it was the first time I noticed the dimple in his chin that couldn’t be hidden by the dark stubble across his jaw. He took two long strides to the double set of doors, throwing them open. “Take a look for yourself.”
I craned my neck, finally taking several steps toward the open doorway. As I peered inside, I couldn’t have been more stunned. The room was glittering in candlelight, the dining room table at least twelve feet long, candelabras of polished silver centered on the gorgeous dark wood every two feet. At the end of the room were several musicians surrounding a piano player tickling the ivories of a Steinway, all four men enraptured in the romantic strains of Tchaikovsky. A cello, a bass, and a violinist were the accompanying players.
I found myself walking further inside, brushing my hand along the edge of the table as I walked toward them. I alternated my gaze from watching their impressive talent to the gold-rimmed plates and stemware setting for two. The scent of garlic and other spices, as well as fresh seafood wafted in through another door that must lead to the kitchen.
As I felt his presence behind me, I took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds.
“You did all this for me?” I asked, uncertain I wanted the answer.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you enthrall me.”
Enthrall. The word stuck in my mind, creating a skimmer of combustible heat. “But why, Cruz?”
“Because you’re everything I want.” He rubbed his palms over my shoulders, creating wave after wave of tingles. “Close your eyes and listen to the melody, my beautiful goddess.” He eased hair away from my neck then fingered my throat.
I did as I was asked, allowing the alluring sounds ofRomeo and Julietto create a warm haze around me. “Tchaikovsky,” I said quietly.
He lowered his head, lightly pressing his lips against my heated skin. “You’re a music aficionado.”
“Cello lessons,” I whispered, shocked that I’d told him a single thing about my past. That couldn’t happen again. However, the sound brought me back to years before, my mother watching from the doorway as the music teacher tried to turn a tone-deaf girl into a musician.
She’d failed.
So had all the others.
Just like my stint taking ballet. I had two left feet and zero tolerance for girls who acted like pampered princesses.
He raked his fingers down the back of my neck and backed away. I tilted my head over my shoulder, an intense ache building in my system as goosebumps trailed behind where he’d touched me before. I remained where I was for a few more seconds before retreating to the living room. For some reason, being in the other room was too much to handle at this point.
“Your house is beautiful,” I managed, hating the fact my heart was racing.
“Then I wish I could lay claim to it. I rented this from a good friend of mine who happens to be traveling in Europe. That allowed me the escape from tradition and very boring hotels.” His eyes were twinkling as he waited for my reaction.
“That makes sense. This doesn’t seem like a house that would suit you.”
He lifted a single eyebrow, a look of amusement crossing his face. “Please share with me that type of house you believe I would find acceptable,” he stated as he walked toward an already open bottle of wine.
“Primal. Stark. With very few colors. Stainless steel and white walls, a gray stone fireplace and leather furniture either in off white or obsidian.”
“Obsidian. A word not often used to describe the intense shade of bluish black.”
I watched as he poured the wine, the light over the stunning wooden bar allowing me to catch a better glimpse of the onyx ring he wore. I imagined it as a symbol, perhaps of his family. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I had a feeling the masquerade would continue.
“I make it a point to study colors given the hundreds of variations that exist. It is my business, after all.”
His smirk was no longer as grating as it had been. After pouring the wine, he walked toward me slowly, every step of his boots creating a slight hammer in my heart. The music seemed louder, but not enough I couldn’t hear the rapid beating of my pulse in my neck. Or maybe the sound was permanently imbedded in my ears, keeping me hostage to an irrational fear.
“Yes, of course.” As he handed me the glass, he made certain our fingers touched, his nostrils flaring as I visibly shuddered.
