Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
ISABELLE
I stand outside the double doors of the ballroom, ready to see Adam. He had Lionel tell me to meet him there instead of in the dining room. It feels so old-fashioned and I absolutely adore it.
Speaking of old-fashioned, my dress is FABULOUS. The fabric is a mix between yellow and gold, and it actually sparkles. It’s sleeveless, with a deep V neckline and fitted until just below my waist, then it flows out with the most incredible volume. Somehow Brigette found a pair of gold heels to match that actually fit me. I had her curl my hair in waves, and she did my makeup with dark lashes and red lipstick. I can’t wait for Adam to see.
Lionel gives me a little nod and smile. “You look lovely, Ms. Isabelle,” he says.
“Thank you, Lionel. Will you be dancing with us?”
He shifts, uncomfortable. “Mr. Stone has requested that I do, but I’m not sure I’ll have a partner.”
I raise a brow. “I think Josephine wouldn’t mind having you lead her in a dance.”
From the way his eyes widen, I’m now certain I haven’t misread the signals between them. “Perhaps you’re right,” he says.
Then he swings the doors open, and I step into the ballroom. The entire gigantic room is lit by candles, the soft glow making the chandelier sparkle in the middle of the high ceiling. The floor is gleaming marble, and the walls are decorated with ornate wood carvings separating the panels of deep blue curtains. I can’t imagine a more romantic room in the world.
Standing in the center of the dance floor is Adam. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, a light blue shirt, and a white bow tie. Tucked into his front pocket is a red rose. But it’s the look in his eyes that takes my breath away. The heat in his gaze threatens to burn me on the spot. Desire. Passion. Longing. Everything I feel is reflected in his expression, and I want nothing more than to be in his arms, having him hold me close.
He holds his hand out to me, and as I approach, he gives a small bow. “May I have this dance?” he asks.
“You may,” I reply, a coy smile on my lips. He draws me in, holding one hand in his, and his other arm around my waist, pulling me close.
The first few notes of “Music of the Night” sound through the room, and I stifle a giggle. “Are we embracing the phantom mood tonight?”
“I thought it was appropriate,” he replies.
This song has never seemed so romantic, with Adam’s arm around my waist, pulling me close to him, and my hand held in his. I breathe him in, his scent reminding me of the woods around us, and I feel like I could stay here forever.
I look around the room, noticing that all the staff are dressed in their finest clothes, but they’re not joining us on the dance floor. “Why are they just watching us?” I ask.
“I asked them to let us have this first dance,” Adam replies.
“Like a wedding,” I say with a smile, then immediately regret my words. Did I just bring up a wedding with Adam Stone?
But he doesn’t seem fazed, and he just grins down at me. “Like a wedding,” he confirms.
Be still, my heart.
We sway through the rest of the song, and after it’s done, everyone around the room claps. Even Mario lets out a little whistle, and my cheeks flush. Adam just takes me by the hand and leads me to the table set for two in the corner of the ballroom. “Let’s eat, and then we can dance some more.”
I follow him over to the elaborately decorated table for two, with a satin tablecloth and red roses in the center. He pulls out my chair, like a perfect gentleman, then sits across from me.
“You know, the first night I came here, I wondered if you’d make me sit across the giant dining table from you,” I say.
He smirks. “I’m not that cold, am I?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Not anymore.”
He pauses, and his face turns serious. “I am sorry for the way I treated you when you first arrived.”
“I know.” I reach across the table and take his hand. “But you’ve proven to me that you’re not actually cold and harsh.”
He swallows hard, his eyes locked on mine. “When you say it, I almost believe it.”
I squeeze his hand tight, hoping I can impart the truth in my words. “It’s true. Believe it.”
His eyes gleam with something that almost looks like love, and before I can overanalyze it, the footmen arrive with our dinner dishes.
“Beef Wellington?!” I squeal. “I didn’t know they could make this!”
“I asked Mario and we made it happen,” Adam says. “I hope you like it.”
The smell fills my senses, and I’m embarrassed that I almost cry from the familiarity. I take my first bite, nearly burning my mouth in the process, but it’s worth it for the taste. “This is incredible. Even better than I remembered.”
“I’m so glad,” Adam says. He’s been watching me and hasn’t taken a bite yet, but now he picks up his fork and digs in, too.
We eat in silence for the next few minutes, but it’s completely different from those nights where Adam gave me the silent treatment. We catch each other’s eyes and smile, a comfortable silence where we know we don’t have to say anything, but we can if we want.
Dessert is served, and it’s a butter cake with whipped cream. I could lick the whole plate and almost do. When I finally look up at Adam, his eyes are twinkling with amusement.
“What?” I ask.
He motions at the side of his mouth. “You have a little cream left there.”
I wipe my mouth with the napkin, but he shakes his head and laughs. He stands from his chair and steps around the table to me. “Let me,” he says, and bends down, kissing the side of my mouth.
Shivers run down my spine. We’ve shared many kisses this week, more than I can count, but each time his lips meet mine feels like the first. I can’t get enough. He moves from the side of my mouth to give me a proper kiss, his lips melting into mine as he leans over my chair.
I pull back, a little embarrassed at our public display.
“What’s wrong?” Adam asks.
I gesture at the people around us. “We haven’t really…you know, kissed that much in front of everyone.” I lean in and whisper, “Like Lionel.”
Adam glances over his shoulder at his trusted friend, who just smiles and gives him a thumbs up. “I don’t think he minds,” he says, then wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to standing, flush against his body.
I let out a little gasp of surprise. Adam groans low and kisses me again, deeply this time, and I let myself forget about everyone around us. His hands grasp my waist, a sense of urgency in his kisses and his hold, as if he knows that this bubble around us is going to burst when we leave here tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I pull back again, and peer into his eyes. The eyes I’ve come to know and admire. One crystal blue, one faded and hazy. And in those eyes are the two sides of Adam that I know—on the one hand, generous and protective; but on the other hand, gruff and stern. They’re two halves that make up a whole person, the person I want by my side each day.
“What happens tomorrow?” I ask softly.
Adam tilts his head. “Tomorrow?” he repeats, his voice raspy.
“When we leave.”
“Oh.” His hands settle heavy on my hips, our bodies still close together. “We go back to LA. And we make the movie together.”
I nod once, already knowing that piece of our future. “And when we’re not making the movie?” I ask slowly.
“And when we’re not making the movie…” He dips his head, presses his lips against mine, and says, “We’ll be doing a lot more of this.”
I let out a breath, relief flooding my body. “I was worried this was just…you know…”
“Stockholm Syndrome?” Adam supplies.
I laugh out loud, tipping my head back. “That’s not what I would call it.”
“Of course it’s not. You’re the prisoner in the scenario. ”
“Well, either way, I wanted to make sure this wasn’t just a fling by forced proximity.”
His expression softens, and he holds my gaze. “This isn’t a fling. And, yes, forced proximity brought us together and helped me realize what a jerk I’ve been. But what’s happening here between us…” He swallows hard. “It feels a lot like?—”
“Mr. Stone!” Lionel’s voice rings across the ballroom. He has a phone up to his ear, and he looks desperate.
“What is it, Lionel?” Adam asks.
Lionel crosses the ballroom to us, his steps quick and light. “You’ve received an urgent phone call.” He holds the phone out to us.
We both look at the screen. I’m sure Adam worries that it’s Lily, because that’s what I’m assuming.
But it’s not. It’s my father.