Chapter 17
LUKE
Breathe. Just breathe.
I can’t remember the last time I actually went out on a date that I set up on my own. In recent years, it’s been blind dates or being set up with someone’s cousin or neighbor.
This time, I’m about to take a beautiful woman, who has plagued my thoughts ceaselessly out on a date that I hope she likes. I feel like I’m in high school again.
Savannah isn’t exactly aware of the date. I’m calling it a surprise because admitting that I’ve been waiting outside Mocha Lisa for Savannah’s shift to end sounds a bit stalkerish, and I’d rather not put myself in that category just yet. It’s not like I have a tracking device on her.
That’s not a half-bad idea…
The door of Mocha Lisa swings open, but it’s just a couple exiting as they cling to each other to keep warm in the cold.
A few moments later, another person steps out of Mocha Lisa, and I’m stunned.
Savannah is dressed in an oversized sweater, leggings, and combat boots. A cozy scarf is wrapped around her neck, and the color matches perfectly with the long socks poking out of her boots.
If this is her casual attire, I don’t think I can handle anything else. She’s going to give me an early heart attack.
I might have to make this the standard for her at RHL.
Hopping out of my car, I jog up to her. “Hi there, Trouble.” I give her a wink.
“Hi,” she greets with a bashful smile.
Easily, I repeat the lie I rehearsed in the mirror. “I’m glad I ran into you. I’m about to go to the library, but I don’t want to go alone.”
“Aren’t libraries closed today? It’s Sunday.”
“There’s one I know that’s open.”
“If you say so,” she responds. “Okay. I could use a good read,” she agrees, and I lead her to the passenger door of my AMG GT.
I don’t let go of her hand until she’s settled in her seat. Losing that connection, even though it’s brief, leaves me feeling cold. I trot quickly to the driver’s door and slip in, snagging her hand before I buckle myself in.
Savannah blushes and gives a soft ahem. “Shall we?”
I turn the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life. “You got it, Babe.”
On our drive, Savannah tries to predict our destination based on the turns I make. She never gets it right, though.
When I make a turn, merging us onto East 73rd Street, Savannah cocks her head to the side, staring out the windshield. “I don’t know of any libraries or bookstores over here. Is it a public library?”
“Nope,” I answer, a little too pleased.
Savannah harrumphs and crosses her arms, falling back into her seat. “I give up.”
“We’re almost there,” I assure her.
Slowing the car to a stop, I parallel park in the spot I had blocked off for me. I had to grease some wheels to make the spot mine, but it’s worth the half-million-dollar donation I make to the NYPD every year.
Jumping out of the car, I round to the passenger side and open Savannah’s door. I entwine my fingers with hers and gesture to the building in front of us. “This is it.”
It’s an old three-story mansion from the Gilded Age. The facade is made of carved stone, tall arched windows, and large, dramatic pillars. I’m sure someone famous used to live here, but now it serves as my haven.
“Cool,” Savannah replies with mild enthusiasm. “Where are we?”
“Let me show you.” Holding onto her hand, I lead her up the few steps to the entrance and unlock it with my key.
“Is this an exclusive club or something?”
I smirk. “It’s very exclusive.”
Showing her into the foyer, I lock the door behind us and remove her coat, scarf, and purse, hanging them on the hat tree next to us.
The floor is covered with hardwood and a traditional rug that stretches from the entry to the set of doors opposite us. On either side of the doors are two winding staircases that lead up to a second-floor landing. But every avenue will lead us to the same place.
Savannah scans the grandiose entry. “Where is everyone?”
“I said this place is exclusive,” I remind her, clasping her hand again and guiding her to the ominous doors.
Savannah lowers her voice. “Yeah, but you didn’t say how exclusive.” She looks down at herself, pulling on her sweater. “I think I’m a bit underdressed for a place like this.”
“You’re dressed perfectly. Come on.” I usher her inside the next room and watch as her expression loses all anxiousness. I had the mansion gutted and combined all the rooms to make one large chamber.
“Oh my God.” Her hands cover her mouth as her eyes widen.
The walls are filled with built-in shelves, and each shelf is stacked with books.
There are two spiral metal staircases located in opposite corners, connecting the first, second, and third floors.
The first floor has a fireplace, wide couches, and a couple of wingback chairs.
The second and third floors are simply a walkway in front of the bookshelves and are open to the first floor, giving a clear view of the skylight above.
Each wall has a sliding ladder that helps me reach the top shelves.
I might be tall, but I’m not a giant.
She steps forward and begins to wander around like a kid in a candy store, and I stay back to watch her explore. Her head tilts toward the ceiling, the sunlight shining down on her, illuminating her face as she closes her eyes and smiles.
I want to capture this moment. I want to remember her just like this.
No stress furrowing her brow. No anxiousness tainting her confidence.
She gets to be her happiest self right now, and it’s beautiful.
When Savannah steps further away, I follow her as she skims the titles of all the books on the shelves she can easily reach.
“There’s a lot of mystery and horror here. I think this is every publication by Stephen King,” she observes.
I lean my shoulder against the bookcase next to her as she pulls It off the shelf. “I bought this place a few years ago as an investment. The plan was to renovate and rent it out, but then I walked through the property, and I couldn’t let it go.”
Savannah blinks. “This place is yours?”
“Yes.”
“So when you said that it was exclusive, you meant…”
“This is my private library. No one else comes here besides me.” I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “And now you.”
Savannah wraps her arms around the book, holding it close to her chest as if she’s guarding herself. “Why?”
“Why not?” I challenge.
She shakes her head. “I’m sure I could think of a million reasons why not.”
“Touche.” Taking the book from her arms, I replace it on the shelf and pull her into me. I encircle her in my arms, bringing us chest to chest. “I brought you here because you’re the first person I’ve ever wanted here with me.”
She peers up at me. “Again, why?”
“This is my space. This is where I go when I need to get away. I tune everything and everyone out when I’m here. I get lost in different worlds and time periods, escaping reality for a while.”
Savannah rises on her toes and brushes her lips against mine. Then all too quickly, she pulls away. “Show me more?”
I can’t deny her. I’d give her every cent in my name. She could ask me to cut off my head, and I’d do it with a smile on my face.
Dropping my arms, I snag her hand again, needing the connection. “Anything you want.”
Savannah leads the way excitedly, pointing at just about every book we pass and asking questions.
Have I read it? Would I recommend it? What was my favorite scene? And so on.
Eventually, we make it to the second floor, and she stops at the new additions to my collection.
“I love this book!” She squeals as she grabs Unexpected Forever by Eliza Peake. “I binged this book in one day. Ooo!” She reaches for The Devil’s Melody by Luna Tix. “And this one.” Savannah pauses and takes a long look at the bookcase. “These are all romances.”
Did the temperature turn up in here? Why is it suddenly so hot?
I’ve admitted a lot to her today, so why does showing her this make me feel like I might throw up, cry, and die all at the same time?
“That they are,” I confirm.
“But you don’t normally read romance,” she points out.
“But you do,” I reply.