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“My guess, the gash against your hairline.”
My hand gripped the glass a bit tighter.
“You said the flight left you feeling unwell.”
My eyes remained fixed on the heavy door.
“It’s a concussion. One that should be monitored for the first forty-eight hours.”
Having experienced cuts, bruises, and injuries firsthand, he knew it was during that time period, but he has yet to address the point of his speech. All he’d done was stir the memory of my father.
“You shouldn’t have another glass,Katia.”
Yet, you gave me my first.
I let the door open enough for my frame to slip, but before I got the chance, he cut even deeper.
“Was it the butt of his gun?” I heard curiosity in his tone, but it did so much more.
Taking a deep breath, I quieted the need to lash out. I couldn’t show any more weakness. Not here. Not to him.
I faced him and his untouched glass as he remained standing in the same place he’d dismissed me from. But there he was,stillacknowledging me. Without letting go of his stormy eyes, I placed my own glass on my lips. They flared when my mouth parted, and in one gulp, I drained it and set it on a table nearby.
“It was. But not before I stared at the end of his barrel.” I licked my lips and breathed in, cooling my burning throat. His jaw twitched, and instead of contemplating its meaning, I turned and left.
This time,Idismissed him.
Lucca had said a concussion,I’d said the flight, but the alcohol said otherwise. I needed a bed, and fast. Could be the mind games, the change of weather, the unfamiliarity, or the weight of my ring finger, but whatever it was, it was catching up on me.
Men filtered through my vision, and voices carried all around. This home was too loud, too crowded, too foreign. I retreated to where we had detoured from. The path to his room.Ourroom now. Once I stood in front of the same staircase on the left, I climbed each step eagerly to get out of the black, sleeved dress and find solace in an empty room.
A long hallway displayed three doors. The last one stood before me at the end. The master bedroom. I opened the door, and his scent hit my face.
Possessive, powerful, and cruel with a hint of smoke.
Asphyxiating.
And yet, I inhaled its danger. Allowing the sick part of me to long for what it craves.
Want.
I closed my eyes, accepting my fault, but the second I opened them, it had become a distant memory.
Instead, I focused on the layout of the bedroom. Like his scent, the black and brown tones of the darkened bedroom reflected him in the same way. Elegant and dangerous. Inviting.
A brown cashmere throw blanket, shades of black, and granite-colored pillows drowned out the white bedding's glow. Dark walls spread all around, so dark the shade of color mixed with black was unknown. I followed the walls, and the higher I looked up to the tall, vaulted ceiling, the more the illusion of a void played in my mind. The lighting wasn’t strong. There were two mounted structures that acted as lamps on each side of the bed, shining their light up the walls and creating a calming atmosphere. But what I could fall asleep looking at was the long, hanging, crystal-pendant chandelier. As if large diamonds rained at different speeds. Only bright enough to showcase their beauty.
A mix of modern and classic blended flawlessly into something stunning.
Ready to discard my dress, slip inside the bed, and drain the day off my body, I searched for my bags. With no luck, I found the walk-in closet. Rows of Lucca’s dress shirts, suits, and shoes lay immaculately on built-in cabinets. Nothing stood out.
A desire to find a flaw lured me closer. That’s how I found a few dark jeans, workout pants, shorts, and plain tees in drawers. Neatly folded and in perfect condition. I headed to the drawer on the island, only to discover his watches and cufflinks.
Picture-fucking-perfect.
Running my finger over a detailedMcufflink, I twisted it.
There.
