So I sigh and walk toward the light that shines brightly behind the doors. Adrenaline shoots through my veins as I open the door farther and step outside into what feels like purgatory itself.
But the second I look up, my jaw drops. I’m on the first floor of a giant hallway with an overlooking balcony covered in flowers. The entire thing is made out of stone, like an ancient castle. Red carpets line the hallway, and seats and statues are placed along the way between each room. All rooms have numbers, and when I gaze over my shoulder, I notice one on mine too: Twenty-six.
I look back around and stop to momentarily gaze over the edge of the balcony. The room below is huge, maybe as big as an entire theater, and there is one broad wooden staircase in the middle, with two smaller circular staircases at each side, leading all the way up to the second floor. Paintings cover the ceiling, and a giant circle in the middle consists entirely of window panels, allowing the light to fill the area.
Never in my life have I seen such opulence. Then again, it’s not like I went out a lot, especially not with people as rich as Eli must be. Unless … this isn’t just his house but someone else’s too.
I gulp at the thought and push it away as we make our way to the staircase.
There are so many rooms here that it makes me wonder what’s in each of them. How many people live here? Or is this all just one man’s ultimate fantasy come to life?
When I was still at the library, some of those books near the romance fiction aisle would sometimes mention houses like this, but never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I’d end up in one myself. Nor in the position that I currently find myself in.
As we approach the stairs, the girl suddenly stops at the top.
“Mary.”
His voice makes my heart stop.
“You can leave the rest to me now.”
I stop walking and watch the girl bow out. She signals me with just her eyes to come to the top of the stairs. My legs are shaking, my body feeling heavier with every step I take. When I turn and look, he’s right there at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me.
A soft smile forms on his lips, one that tugs at my heartstrings. “You look … beautiful.”
Beautiful … a compliment that would bring the flush to my cheeks, even when this black dress is just another prison strapped around my body.
A prison he put there just to enjoy himself.
I don’t smile back.
“C’mon.” He holds out his hand, and we engage in a stare off for a moment before I finally cave and take the steps downstairs, each one of them making my heart pound even harder.
I reach out; even though my heart tells me not to, my brain knows this is the smarter choice. When our hands touch, it’s as if lightning shoots through my veins, and it reminds me of the first time we met. When he was still only a handsome stranger I wished would sweep me off my feet.
How poetic, these fantasies of mine.
“Thank you for coming,” he says, and he lifts my hand to his mouth again and presses another kiss to it, almost making me forget what kind of a man he really is. If he is a man at all because underneath this chiseled, rugged face and black-suited façade hides a beast.
Before releasing my hand, he looks up at me from underneath his dark lashes and says, “Did you sleep well?”
My lips twitch. This is a test, isn’t it? It has to be. Someone like him wouldn’t ask a question like this without it having some ulterior motive attached. Because this question’s followed by the most smoldering of stares.
“I … Uh …” I mutter. “Yes.”
A dirty smile creeps up onto his lips. “Is that the truth?”
My eyes widen, and I feel caught in the act. The truth … he mentioned wanting that before. But this isn’t the truth he was looking for.
He leans in and whispers into my ear, “Do not lie to me, Amelia.”
And I can’t fucking breathe.
“I …”
“It’s okay,” he says, and he leans away again, just a little. Not far enough to create space, but far enough to look me in the eyes and caress my cheek. “You will learn that it comes with a price.”
My pupils dilate, and my lungs contract. Only when he moves back can I breathe once again.
Should I say sorry? No, that probably wouldn’t matter to him. He isn’t the type to accept takebacks. I’ve learned that much in my short time of being here.
“Now, let’s eat,” he says, a dirty smile on his face. “I’m sure you’re famished.”