Opaque Melodies (Coveting Delirium 1)

He was like a Greek sculpture plucked right from a prestigious museum of art. As I continued to stare at him without saying a word, his small smile stretched a little wider, showcasing his smooth stubble and the dimple in his right cheek.

“Yeah. I made it,” I finally replied lamely.

A hand with a large silver watch wrapped around its wrist, stretched towards me. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been greeted so formally, but it seemed appropriate given the situation. I gave him my hand. Instead of shaking it like I thought he was going to, he turned it, so my palm was facing down.

His grip was confident and firm as he raised my hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on the back of it. Whereas I’d have found the interaction completely creepy had any other strange man attempted to do this, I barely batted an eye at him. That may have had more to do with the fact that I couldn’t look away from his face.

His eyes were seriously blue.

Almost sickeningly blue.

The kind of blue you wanted to paint the sky with. There was something else there too, something that glistened in the depths of them that I couldn’t place. He released me and slid his hands into his pockets.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, though I wish we could’ve done this under better circumstance.”

His words had a pang of unexpected guilt crashing into my gut.

As if he felt it himself, he was quick to offer an apology.

“Sorry. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty.”

“You didn’t—I don’t,” I objected a tad harsher than necessary.

His smile didn’t fade away, but his dark brows lifted slightly.

“Come inside, I’ll give you a quick tour.”

A barrage of refusals gathered at the back of my throat ready to pour from my mouth. He turned a bit and held out a hand to motion me forward. With a mind of their own my legs began to carry me up the path to his front door.

I swallowed down my protest and went with it, offering him a quick smile I knew didn’t reach my eyes. Demetri followed wordlessly behind us. I almost felt bad he was carrying my bag.

I’d take the tour and pretend I cared what Alaric’s house looked like, and then then I would ask to be taken to a hotel. Alaric opened the door but let me enter first.

I stepped inside a large foyer, sweeping my gaze over immaculately polished oak floors. There was a round table in the center of the room, a large vase filled with white flowers placed atop it. The walls were concrete, beige with a swirled pattern.

Off to the far left there was a staircase, the top half concealed entirely. Alaric went right, telling me about the home’s architectural design as we proceeded to go from room to room.

“Me and my father mapped out the entire layout together,” he explained.

Given the house’s location and now knowing it was a custom build that included high-ceilings and large windows, this added another tier of wealth to what I already knew was a large scale.

So, not only was he supposedly successful in whatever his profession was, he came from money too. At least this information aligned with one of my earlier assumptions. Meg would have married a man well-off.

As we continued the tour, I tried to picture her living here. If only I knew enough about who she was to play out a daily routine, know where she liked to spend most of her time.

There was one room that made the whole tour worth it. Alaric referred to it as the “great room.” I honestly couldn’t think of a better term for it.

I stepped in, barely concealing my awe. The whole back wall was glass with a pair of French doors in the center that led out to an open-air pavilion. There was a bar and large in-ground pool surrounding it. Beyond all that lay a land of turquoise. The sun glistened off its waves. Seagulls soared low, skimming its surface in search of fish.

While this was all beautiful, it wasn’t what had my heart fluttering in my chest. The main focal point of the room was the grand piano, angled to face the same direction.

The black, glossy surface was shined to perfection. Its keys were in pristine condition.

“Do you play?” Alaric asked.

I jumped, too caught up in my own head to remember I wasn’t alone.

I glanced over my shoulder, seeing he hadn’t even come all the way into the room. He was leaning against the arch of the wall, watching me.

“Not really,” I lied. It’d been a while, but I could never forget how it felt to be seated behind one of these beautiful instruments. Playing had always been an outlet for me. Even now, the bench beckoned me to sit.