There’s another seating area with four club chairs and a low but large table in the center near a fireplace. In addition to that is a massive formal dining table with eight high-back ivory fabric chairs surrounding a dark wood table. Under the eight-seater dining table, the conversation area, and the sofa area are beautiful off-white area rugs with a squiggly silver pattern through them. One area has a square rug. Another a large oval one and another, a rectangle.
This place, the colors, the view, it has a great vibe. The furnishings are comfortable – this space is designed for enjoyment and comfort. Serenity blended with wealth that doesn’t say ostentatious.
A wall of wine bottles near the dining table stands out with soft lighting glowing from behind. Everything gleams. There’s not a speck of dust anywhere.
I see through the doors at the edge of the living space a huge patio. I take a couple steps toward it and stare out the window. Maybe I do have stars in my eyes after all…
“Violet,” he says from behind me and it’s very close behind me. In fact, I feel the warmth of his breath on my neck.
I shiver in reaction.
“Your home is lovely,” I say softly, turning to face him. “No. That’s not a good enough word. It’s so inviting and it’s… it’s… perfection. I would not change one single thing.”
Shit is suddenly real here. I’m in Killian Coulter’s apartment, taken as a marker for my supposed fiancé’s debts. It’s surreal.
“Thank you. I’ll show you the bedroom,” he remarks, eyes burning into me and his jaw clenching, though I don’t know why. He isn’t radiating anger… I’m not sure what he’s feeling right now. I suspect it’s the opposite, but I don’t know and even if I did, I’m not capable of doing anything other than following him on shaky legs.
Bedroom. Oh.
Oh my God. What?
He gestures to the kitchen area as we stroll past it. “There’s a hall through that door leading to the butler’s kitchen, pantry, and laundry room. My housekeeper does laundry on Mondays. I’ve got a cork board in there where I leave notes for her regarding what I’d like done. Feel free to use it.”
He puts the trash bags filled with my clothes and shoes down at the mouth of the hallway and gestures for me to follow across the gorgeous wood floors, past three doors into the master suite. Once he opens the doors, my breath is sucked out of me at the opulence and comfort. Both. Like the rest of the place, it has both.
We’re looking at a wall of windows that I see leads to that massive patio. In addition to the vast space with a huge king-size bed that’s positioned to make the most of the spectacular view is a nook bisected with a fireplace with two armchairs and a low table. On the other side of the fireplace is the entrance to the patio and to the left of that is another larger nook with a big and beautiful desk and a bookshelf filled with hardcover books. His home office. Added to that is a set of sliding doors that are open, revealing a massive walk-in closet with two leather chairs and glass doors on either side with a tallboy chest of drawers at the end. My eyes linger on the left side, which is empty, the right side is full. His and hers closets.
No hers stuff.
The master ensuite bathroom is dominated by the shower. In the corner is a step-up massive soaker tub. Finishing off the spa-like bathroom are his and her sinks with a vanity in the middle, a purple leather stool tucked underneath. The bathroom vanity has pale purple marble. Again, a touch of femininity but that wouldn’t overpower a masculine man like Killian. To me, I think this apartment was decorated for a masculine man who didn’t mind some feminine touches for the woman in his life.
My body is still trembling. Why am I in the master bedroom and why did he feel the need to show me his bathroom, too?
“Tonight, you can sleep in my bed,” he says.
I jolt in surprise.
“I’ll take my couch,” he adds. “And I’ll order a bed for you tomorrow and you can move to the room directly inside the hallway tomorrow.”
My knees wobble with relief and I sway. He steadies me by catching my shoulders.
“Are you all right, Violet?”
I nod, avoiding his eyes and trying (though failing) to ignore the sensation of his hot hands on my shoulders. He releases me and we walk out of the bathroom. I feel wobbly again, so I sit down on the tufted dove gray suede bench at the end of the bed.
He sits on the bench beside me. “Did you think I was going to sleep here too?”