* * *
I returned to my room by early evening and found the door ajar. I paused, contemplating whether I had shut it firmly when I left that morning, and decided that I had. An insidious fear sprouted up. The impulse to flee made my heart beat in a ramshackle rhythm. I fought it––surely I was safe here, I thought.
Pushing the door open, I quietly stepped inside and noticed my desk lamp turned on, the curtains moved aside. Dusk had fallen. The lavender glow cast smeared shadows on the walls that made the room look eerie and unfamiliar.
That’s when I noticed him sitting in my chair, his cane propped against the wall, my medical book in one hand and his head bent over it. He wore a simple white t-shirt and an old pair of Levi’s, a complete departure from his usual Lord of the Manor look with his expensive suits and air of invincibility. Raking his long fingers through his hair absentmindedly, he looked almost human, relaxed and approachable when at ease.
His head rose and the eyes that met mine were not the same shuttered ones I had come to know so well. On the contrary, the eyes staring back at me now were warm and curious–– filled with yearning. What I found in his gaze felt profoundly familiar. I reached for it but it pulled away, leading me dangerously near the edge of something big. Scared of what I might find, I took a cautious step back and the spell was broken. The warmth leaked out of his expression as he retreated behind the walls of his fortress. He closed the book and placed it on my desk, grabbed his cane as he stood, shrinking the room with his overpowering form…wielding his size as a weapon.
“Medical books.” The sensual rumble of his voice reached inside of me and triggered things I didn’t want to feel for him. Like a tuning fork, my body responded immediately. Heat accumulated below my waist and a pulsing need settled between my thighs. I was petrified he would realize my attraction to him so of course the devil in me chose that moment to make an appearance.
“What are you doing in my room?”
“She speaks.” There was a smile in his voice, though his face gave nothing away. That kindled my anger. I refused to be something he toyed with for his amusement.
“I shouldn’t have to say anything to you. You shouldn’t be here.” When he stepped forward, I instinctively moved back, crashing into the cool, stone wall. Adroitly, he had trapped me between it and his chest. Only a slice of light remained between us. I refused to satisfy his ego and meet his gaze so I simply stared ahead, pretending to see nothing and feeling too much.
The heat radiating from him warmed my clammy skin. His scent, that distinct hint of maleness mixed with soap and expensive cologne, invaded my senses. It was intoxicating. I wanted to lean into it so instead I pressed my spine up against the cold stucco and flinched as it dug into the thin skin of my back.
“Thank you for taking care of Giovanni.” The warm puffs of his breath near my temple made my hairline tingle. The vibration of his rough-hewn voice danced on my skin. “The surgeon said you did an adequate job with the stitches…don’t do it again. I keep a helicopter here for that exact purpose.” Adequate job?? Those stitches were perfect!
The taunting had the desired effect. My eyes snapped up and resentment made me glow the color of good Chianti. I caught him searching my face and realized too late that it pleased him to shock me. And I had played right into it like the overwrought, lusty idiot I had become. “Please leave, or I will scream.”
He stared back unfazed by the threat. But he was wrestling with something. I could feel it as distinctly as the heavy thumping of my heart.
The loud shrill of his cell phone broke the stalemate. He pulled it out of his back pocket and briefly glanced at the screen. His amber eyes, returning to me quickly, told me he wasn’t done with this conversation. The unspoken promise hung between us. Without a backward glance, he stalked out of my room.
When the door shut, I sagged against the wall, trying to recover from the drain of energy that follows an adrenaline rush.
The longing I had detected in his eyes must have been a pathetic figment of my imagination, years of abstinence having damaged my ability to judge anything regarding the opposite sex. The pheromones in my blood were running amok. This man had no warmth left in him, no empathy whatsoever. Charlotte said he lacked something. She was right. Perhaps when his wife died, the best parts of him, the human parts, had died with her.