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I wanted him to kiss me again, to relieve the ache that had been building since he brought me to his home.
Then the image of the box in his office returned. What if it had been a gift from a woman hoping to court him?
Shit.
I needed to find that box.
Rising from the bed, I padded silently across the cool stone floor, my thoughts lingering on Antonio and the secrets he guarded. His words did little to quell the questions that plagued me, so I pulled on a robe and left my room.
The night air was cool and crisp against my skin as I stood at the threshold of Antonio’s office. My heart throbbed painfully, and I could no longer deny the truth—I cared for him.
But there was still so much about Antonio that remained shrouded in mystery, and I couldn’t help but feel that finding his hidden box would bring me closer to understanding him.
I opened the door with newfound resolve and stepped into his domain, determined to find that tiny box. Twice I had invaded this space. Why didn’t he keep it locked?
The moonlight streamed through the window. The air was thick with the scent of aged leather and parchment, a testament to the countless volumes lining the towering bookshelves that loomed over me like silent guardians protecting their precious cargo. Murky shadows danced across the floor. Time was running short, and I knew I had to act quickly.
Antonio’s workspace stood proudly in the center of the room. I approached his desk, a massive, ornate structure carved from dark mahogany. The surface was littered with papers, folders, an electronic writing pad, and his docufone, not to mention random trinkets—it was a jumble of chaos that seemed out of place in the otherwise immaculate room. Antonio had always been a man of precision, but something about this cluttered workspace hinted at a hidden depth I had only glimpsed.
My hands flew over the desk, deftly exploring each compartment, until finally, my fingertips grazed something out of place. A small, hidden latch yielded to my touch, revealing a concealed drawer.
“Finally,” I breathed, my heart pounding in anticipation as I carefully extracted a small, ornate box. It was crafted from dark wood and adorned with delicate silver filigree. An unidentifiable symbol was etched on its surface, seeming to dance in the moonlight. This was it.
I shook the box gently, listening to the faint rustling of its contents. The weight of my discovery settled heavily in my hands, weaving a tangled web of curiosity, fear, and longing. What secrets would it reveal?
“Antonio, please forgive me for this,” I whispered, knowing I was crossing a line I could never uncross. But there was no turning back now. With trembling fingers, I attempted to pry open the stubborn lid, but it refused to budge.
“Damn it,” I muttered, my frustration mounting as precious seconds ticked away. Desperation clawed at my insides, urging me to take drastic measures.
The box’s mystery consumed me, an insatiable hunger gnawing at the edges of my resolve. Fingers trembling with anticipation, I attempted to pry open the stubborn lid, but it refused to yield. I could feel the pressure of time and the risk of discovery coiling around me like a predatory beast stalking its prey.
“Come on,” I whispered, frustration seeping into my voice as I repeatedly tried to unlock the secrets hidden within. “Please, open up.”
But the box remained unyielding, its contents locked away by some invisible force that seemed to laugh at my desperation. My pulse quickened with every failed attempt.
I stood up, shaking my hands and searching Antonio’s office for inspiration. My gaze fell upon a solid stone ball that rested atop his desk, its surface adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to whisper of ancient power. A sudden surge of determination filled me, pushing away the shadows of doubt and fear that threatened to consume me.
With a deep breath, I hefted the stone ball in my hands, balancing the weight in my palms. My heart raced with every beat, each thud of blood through my veins echoing the drumbeat of the coming storm.
I needed someone to talk to. Once this was broken, there would be no going back.
But I would be in the tournament. “Three... two... one,” I said before I brought the stone ball crashing down on the box.
The sound of splintering wood filled the air, mingling with the shattering of my self-imposed boundaries. I stared at the fragments of the box scattered across Antonio’s desk.
I carefully sifted through the wreckage, fingers trembling as they grasped the shattered remnants of my mentor’s secrets. Antonio’s secrets. My Antonio.
My home.
The word made me wince, so I turned my attention back to the box.
“Antonio,” I breathed. “What have you done?”
Chapter19
The Morning Of
The first thing I saw wasn’t a gift from some potential wife for my windowed mentor. It was a newspaper clipping with a black and white flamenco dancer.
