taking in the space. I rise to my feet and wander to the wall of wardrobes, finding them empty. I step into the elaborate bathroom but none of his cosmetics are here. This isn’t his room.
I go to the curtains and pull them across, revealing enormous French doors that lead to a terrace. There’s a jacuzzi, a couch, and a fire pit. It all looks over the most well-primped garden. Topiary trees cut into all kinds of weird and wonderful shapes are precisely placed between the dense flower beds, pillar lights line the cobbled paths, a gazebo dripping in lavender, and an impressive infinity pool is to the right. It looks like you could swim right off the edge and tumble down the cliff side. It’s beyond paradise. It’s heaven. Nothing like the hell I feel I’m in.
I pull the doors open and step out onto the balcony, closing my eyes and relishing the warm sun on my skin, catching a rare and peaceful moment. I cast my eyes right and spy another terrace separated from this one by a glass pane. It’s for the next room. Another guest room? Is that what I’m in?
I’m a guest, not a prisoner.
“Were you worried about me?”
I swing around, finding Black on the threshold of the terrace wearing a pair of gray shorts hanging low on his hips. Why? Why does he always feel the need to present himself to me half-naked? “No,” I answer with grit.
He wanders across to one of the glass panels, leaning his elbows on the metal balustrade and looking out across the garden. His bare feet cross at the ankles, his tall body bent at the stomach, enhancing the stupidly defined muscles of his back. “Why didn’t you run?”
My brain spasms. I’ve been asking myself that question repeatedly, but I never anticipated him asking. “Shock, I suppose.”
He turns a smile onto me. It’s that genuine smile. The rare one. “You? Shocked? Pull the other one, Rose. You’re steel.”
Shit.
“Where would I go?”
“Back to your lover,” he suggests, casting his eyes out to the landscape again “Not that you’ll have one once I’ve blown his brain out.”
He’s wrong. I’ll still have a lover. It might not be Perry Adams, but I’ll have a lover. I just don’t know who yet, or why I’ll be in his bed.
Taking a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his shorts, Danny offers me one. I’ve never smoked in my life. I’ve heard it’s a relaxant, and I could do with relaxing a bit. I scoot over and pull one from the pack, twisting it between my fingers as he slips another between his full lips. He lights it, illuminating his face. His gorgeous face. Then he holds the flame toward me. Nervously, I slip the cigarette between my lips and suck.
And cough.
Fucking hell, I’m choking. The sound of me hacking all over the place drenches the air. And beyond it, I hear him laugh.
It’s a rich sound, full of lost happiness. My choking to death makes him happy. “Come here.” He turns me away from him and proceeds to smack my back lightly until I’ve gathered myself. And then it’s quiet. And we’re close. His hands rest on my hips. The cigarette falls from between my fingers, and I pull in air, trying to be discreet. Impossible when he can see the rise of my shoulders. I turn to face him, his hands sliding across my midriff as I go. I find him shielded by a cloud of smoke, the cigarette resting lightly between his lips. His eyes shine. His scar glows.
“Smoking’s bad for you,” he grunts, releasing me and taking a drag. “Get some sleep.” He flicks it off the terrace, turns, and leaves.
I stare at his back as he goes, a little . . . lost. I just saw another glimmer of softness. And then, as if he realized he was being nice and it’s forbidden, he switched. Or is he simply playing an asshole’s game?
I hardly slept a wink, my mind rolling with so many contradicting thoughts. He didn’t sleep with me. I don’t know why, but it bothered me. Almost as much as his swaying mood. He bounces from cold and aggressive, to showing small hints of a caring nature. I’m not sure which I dislike the most. The former, I know better how to handle. The latter instigates a whirl of emotions in me that aren’t familiar or welcome.
Lust being one of the most frustrating.
And even more frustrating