Sunrise Kisses (The Kisses 8)

The room felt empty despite being full of people when he left. Dr. Verner stood and put his empty plate in the sink before coming back over to me and putting his hand on my shoulder. “I'm going to go get everything ready for our flight. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you, doctor,” I replied, pushing the eggs around on my plate. I knew I needed to eat, but I just wasn't hungry anymore. He patted my shoulder gently before heading out the door and leaving me with Charlotte.

Her head was back on the table and she wasn't moving. I poked her arm and she started to snore. I shook my head and made sure her hair was pulled back out of her face before taking her plate to the sink. At least she had managed to keep the two bites of eggs down.

I sat down at the table again, knowing I needed to finish my breakfast and get a cup of coffee in me so I could get going. I had a long day ahead of me, and if Charlotte could at least get her eggs down, so could I.

Chapter 14

The house was eerily quiet as I tiptoed down the empty hall. I could still see as moonlight flooded the windows with her mystic light, but it still felt dark and lonesome. I paused by the room that had been my fathers and stopped to peek inside. There was nothing of his left and the bed was made back into magazine perfection.

I already missed my dad. I had gone with him to the airport and said my goodbyes, but I felt like the worst daughter in the world. My father was going to the hospital because his heart didn't work properly, yet I was staying in the Caribbean at a mansion. It didn't feel right, yet I knew it was how things had to be. I had to finish this project, or we would never be able to pay his medical bills and we would lose the business.

I sighed, going to the window. The waves lapped at the moonlit shore in regular intervals, reminding me of a creature breathing. I thought about going outside, but a glass of wine sounded better. I had left a bottle down in the kitchen from dinner, and now it was calling my name.

The kitchen was dark. Everyone was in bed except for me. I couldn't sleep, but my brain refused to concentrate on work. I had worked since returning from the airport until Charlotte forced me to eat something. She was the one who had given me the wine. I had worked after dinner, but now that it was long past bed time, I couldn't work anymore.

My brain was just too full.

My phone chirped with an email update as I poured a large glass of the dark red liquid. While I didn't use my data or phone plan, the mansion had wifi. Dr. Verner sent me his hourly email updates, though now they were from my dad's hospital nurse and just read, Fast asleep or snoring softly. I would have to thank his nurse as one message had read: I came in to check his vitals and and he called me Jackie. Jackie is a lucky lady. At least I knew good people were taking care of him.

I swirled the wine around in the glass, watching it trickle back down with slow, long legs. I couldn't sit still, even in the warm kitchen, so I decided to explore the mansion on my own.

The wood floors were cool on my bare feet. The house felt different at night, like the paintings were waiting for me to turn my back so they could come alive. It wasn't creepy so much as I felt like I didn't belong. It didn't help that so many of them were overly lavish and displayed in garish frames that accentuated their worth rather than their beauty.

I walked up the stairs to the second floor, and banged my hip against a gilded table. I sighed and gazed down the second floor hallway at gilded frames and overly ornate furniture. Everything in this house was designed to proclaim wealth, but from what I had seen of Bastian and Charlotte, neither cared about flaunting their money. They should be living in something full of bamboo furniture and open windows. There was too much finery and not enough warmth for them here.

I turned and found myself standing in front of Bastian's study doors.

I was curious. What did it look like inside? Was it opulent and rich like the walls of the mansion, or warm and homey like the kitchen? I felt like if I could see how he decorated his living space, I would have some insight into him. I knew so little about him, but I wanted to know more with a desperation that surprised me.

I set my empty wine glass on an overly ornate hallway table and listened for any noise in the study. If I heard him inside, I could just knock and perhaps he would let me in. I rather liked the idea of being invited in.

Without thinking, I tried the door handle. It swung open on silent hinges and I stared after it with an open mouth. Standing in the hallway, I heard a loud thud come from inside, as if something heavy had been dropped.

I swallowed hard and justified going inside. What if he had fallen like my dad?

Just past the doors, I could hear the

shower running and Bastian cursing at his shampoo bottle. I nearly giggled before catching myself. The wine was making me bold and careless, but it was still funny to hear him swear at the bottle.

The idea of Bastian wet and soapy, and totally naked, made my insides flutter and the space between my legs tighten. A naughty part of me wanted to go and take a peek, just a glimpse, but I pushed it down. I was already someplace I shouldn't be. No need to push it, no matter how much I wanted to see his muscles dripping with soap.

I knew I should leave, but I took a moment and looked around the office. It was a large room, as all the rooms in the mansion were, but it didn't feel overwhelming. Every light was on and the walls were painted a warm butter yellow that made it almost feel like daytime. A large, heavy wooden desk sat in the corner with a computer and a comfortable-looking leather chair. Nothing was antique or gilded in the entire room. Every piece of furniture was expensive only because it was well-made. He had chosen things that utilized function over form.

A big leather couch sat under the wide open window. The curtains billowed in the breeze off the ocean, and I could imagine laying on that couch and reading for hours. Looking closer, I realized that the blanket from this morning was draped on the arm. It had been him.

Smiling, I looked at the pictures on his wall. There was no artwork and for the most part, the walls were bare, but above his desk was a cork board filled with smiling people. Most of them were of him and Charlotte in various places around the world. The Great Wall of China, The Eiffel Tower, the Pyramids, Stonehenge, The Taj Mahal and dozens of others. He smiled in all of them.

In the center was a long picture with a row of men in dark suits all smiling and laughing with a beautiful bride at the end of the line. Looking closer, I recognized the woman as Emma Saunders, the wife of oil baron Jack Saunders. Faces popped out at me from Forbes magazine's most wealthy as I looked down the line. That must have been a crazy wedding.

Other than one small picture of him, Charlotte and a kind looking couple, there were no pictures of family or childhood. Every picture was college aged or above. I even spotted several of him with Leo and another man that must be Gabriel, but nothing that hinted at his life before starting his company.

Moving away from the wall, I saw one last picture. It was on his desk in a simple golden frame that couldn't have cost more than a couple of dollars. It was a picture of him and Charlotte, sitting on a boat. The sun was in his face but he was smiling just like he had the other morning, looking like he might burst into laughter at any moment. I reached out a finger to stroke his face, wishing I could see him like that.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” An angry growl came from behind me. I spun to see Bastian standing in the doorway to the bathroom. He was dripping wet with just a precarious towel wrapped around his waist. He was even more glorious than I had imagined.

That's when I realized the water had stopped.