Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
ARIANA
O bsidian is back to being his cold self. If I’d hoped that what happened in his car would change things, I was sorely mistaken. If anything, it’s only made him double down on presenting himself as an asshole.
I didn’t see him at all yesterday since it was Saturday. And today, being Sunday, is dragging on. I’m anxious for the minutes to tick by and reach Monday morning, when I’ll be back in Obsidian’s orbit, even if he will do his best to ignore me.
Per usual, I met my brother at Black Magic Bar yesterday to pass off a set of silver candlesticks. With every week that goes by, I feel guiltier and guiltier about what I’m doing.
After everything that went down this week, guilt whirls around me like a tornado, seeping in through my pores. But then Bastion will tell me what he fetched for the previous week’s steal, and I’ll justify what I’m doing as necessary to save the people I love, as well as myself.
But after seeing that side of Obsidian after what Brandon did, I almost couldn’t bring myself to put the candlesticks in my bag before I left the manor last night.
I don’t regret what happened in the car on the way home from the airport, even if it didn’t result in Obsidian taking me to bed once we arrived at Midnight Manor. I needed to feel in control, like I told him. And I didn’t want to put off my next sexual encounter with a man—for fear that my feelings about what Brandon did would fester inside me and I would find it too hard. I needed to get it out of the way and prove to myself that I could still be turned on, still see sex as something enjoyable.
What Brandon did still lurks in the back of my mind, like a warning about what some men are capable of. It’s not a lesson I’ll soon forget, but I don’t want to dwell on it. Don’t want to give him the power to affect my life in that way.
It’s hot out today, so I slip on my bikini to spend some time swimming and lounging by the pool. It has a purple triangle top with a teal green bottom, and I slide on the white oversized button-up I use as my cover-up, then leave my room. I’m sure to bring a bag with sunscreen, my phone and AirPods so I can listen to music, as well as a book.
It might be the height of summer outside, but the manor still feels dim inside, the bright sunshine not permeating past the heavy curtains or the thick glass in the Gothic windows. Everything here is more subdued. A prickle of awareness makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck—that has happened a few times since I arrived here.
It brings to mind the early morning I found Obsidian in the secret garden and the trail of sand that led me there. I’d forgotten about it with everything going on, but now I question whether I dreamed it or was sleepwalking or something. It feels so far from reality and everything that has happened since.
My skin heats as soon as I step into the sunshine. I slip my sunglasses from the top of my head over my eyes and walk across the patio over to one of the plush chaise loungers, then set my bag and cover-up on the table.
After I’ve applied my sunscreen, I decide to relax in the sun before I take a dip in the crystal-blue water. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen the weather so nice since I started staying here. It’s as if a permanent cluster of clouds drapes itself over the manor. In the morning, tendrils of fog often dot the grounds. I want to enjoy the sun and water while I can.
My eyes drift closed behind my sunglasses, and I’m halfway to sleep when a throat clears next to me. My eyes snap open.
Marcel stands off to the side, hands behind his back. “I saw you out here. Wanted to see if you’d like a refreshment.”
“That’s so nice of you. Would you happen to have any lemonade?”
He nods. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks, Marcel.”
Now that I’m no longer half asleep, I realize how warm my skin is, and I decide to get into the water to cool off. I set my sunglasses on the table and step over to the edge of the pool.
Ever since I was little, I’ve loved the water. Didn’t matter if it was a pool, a lake, or the ocean. Even a river or a stream could keep me mildly content. My dad moved us around a lot, but I was always happiest when we lived near the water.
I dive in and tread water for a bit, enjoying the feel of the sun warming the top of my head. Then I lie on my back in the water and float with my eyes closed.
Growing bored, I decide to test myself to see if I can swim from one end of the oversized pool to the other without coming up for air. It’s a game Bastion and I used to play as kids. I swim over to the shallow end to start and count myself down from three in my head, then push off the wall.
I swim with all my might, eyes open under the water. When I approach the edge of the deep end, a shadow casts down in the pool.
Marcel must have returned with my lemonade.
I’m running out of breath, but I push myself and touch the wall, coming up out of the water sucking in a big breath, ready to thank Marcel for the drink once I have enough oxygen, but it’s not Marcel. It’s Obsidian.
“Oh.” I let go of the wall, treading water. “I thought you were Marcel.”
He frowns. “Why would you think that?”
“He’s getting me a drink.” Using both hands, I push up out of the pool as gracefully as I can.
Obsidian doesn’t step back to give me any extra room once I’m out. His gaze floats down my body, and I’m very aware that I’m practically naked in front of him. Sure, it’s a swimsuit, but he’s never seen me such minimal clothing.
My nipples pebble despite the stifling heat, and when his gaze tracks back up my body, it stops at my breasts. His nostrils flare and his hands twitch as though he wants to touch them.
“Is there a work emergency?” It’s all I can think to ask because why else would he be here? He very clearly regrets what happened in his car—both times. Which is funny since he was worried I would regret it.
“No, there’s no emergency.”
“What are you doing here then?”
He pushes his hand through his hair. “Can you put on a cover-up or something? You make it hard to think.”
My lips tilt into a smile. “Sure.”
I walk past him and know that he’s checking out my ass, so I add a little extra swagger to my hips. He may not want to want me, but he does. I can’t help the way I want to preen at the knowledge, even knowing that I’m making an impossible situation even more impossible. If Obsidian ever knew who I really was, why I was really here… he’d treat me like he is now.
Making a show, I bend over and slide my sunglasses onto the top of my head, holding my wet hair back, then grab my cover-up. Straightening, I slide my arms into it and turn around, not bothering to button it.
I’m enjoying this game of cat and mouse. Today I’m the mouse, and I can’t help hoping that he’ll reach out and swat me.
His jaw hardens when I turn around without the shirt buttoned. “I want to show you something.”
My head tilts. “I thought you said there wasn’t anything pressing for work?”
He lets out a long sigh as though I’m the one exasperating him . “Just come on.”
I slide on my sandals while he strides back to the double doors leading into the house. Marcel comes through before we make it there, my drink in hand.
I rush around Obsidian and take the drink from him. “Thank you so much, Marcel.”
He nods. “Sir, can I get you anything?”
Obsidian shakes his head. “No, I’m fine, Marcel, thanks.”
I take a big sip of the sweet and tart liquid before I follow bossy pants again. I’m not entirely sure where we’re going, but when we pass the stained-glass wolf, I know it’s in his wing of the manor.
He leads me to the very end of the hallway where there’s a wooden door and pulls a skeleton key from the pocket of his pants. It might be Sunday, but Obsidian is dressed impeccably as always. He’s wearing a pair of expensive beige chinos and a knit navy short-sleeve shirt with the two buttons on the V open. The universe could pluck him from here and set him in the center of the Amalfi Coast or Monaco, and he would fit right in.
He swings open the door and gestures for me to go ahead. When I walk through, I stop, surprised to see a set of stairs. Stairs that turn in a spiral. We must be entering the turret at the end of the east wing.
I look over my shoulder at him, feeling a little unsure, and he looks at me expectantly as impatience tightens his features. I don’t know what this is, but I want to find out, whatever it is. If only because it means I’ll get to spend more time in Obsidian’s presence.
God, I am so messed up. That’s the last thing I should want.
I walk up the steps, and it takes a couple minutes to reach the top. There’s a landing and another closed door. Obsidian walks around me and produces the key again, unlocking the door. He opens it, and this time, he steps inside first and waits for me to join him.
My eyes are wide as I enter the large, circular room. Inside are tables and rows of custom shelves curved perfectly to sit flush against the walls. And on the tables and the shelves are all kinds of… artifacts? A collection of sorts.
I step farther inside, circling around in wonder. “What is this place?”
“They’re things I’ve collected in my travels.”
When I step to the table closest to me, there are some old maps partially unrolled, a purple crystal, and a gold fork. When I pick it up, I realize it must be solid gold because it’s heavy.
“That’s from a shipwreck that was discovered in the Caribbean.”
I set it down and look around the room again. “You’ve traveled to a lot of places.”
He steps closer to me. “I have to travel quite a bit for Voss Enterprises. And there was a period of time in my early twenties where I traveled extensively. Any time I didn’t have to be in school, I headed off somewhere.”
There’s something almost melancholic about the expression on his face. “You didn’t come back here?”
“No.”
He offers no further explanation, so I drop it and move to the next table.
We go on like that for some time—I show interest in something, and he explains its origin, why it’s meaningful to him. I’m not sure why he’s brought me here, but I savor every word out of his lips because it feels as if he’s revealing another hidden part of himself to me.
Finally, after half an hour or so passes, I turn to him. “Why did you decide to start collecting these things?”
He shrugs. “I’m not even really sure. It started when I was a boy.” He looks out through the French doors that lead to a balcony. “I think maybe it started because I wanted to remember other places I’d been. Places better than this one.”
I can’t help it. I place a hand on his chest and pain flickers in his eyes. He looks down and meets my gaze with his twin pools of black.
“Why did you want to show me all of this?” I ask quietly.
He fingers a piece of damp hair hanging over my shoulder. “It’s my way of apologizing for how I acted after what happened on the way back from the airport. That, and I saw the way you’re always studying the relics throughout the manor whenever we’re making our way from one room to another. I thought you might enjoy it.”
Guilt shoves its way down my gullet, pushing down all the affection that was there moments ago. The only reason I’m doing that is so I know what to steal.
I clear my throat and step back. “I appreciate it.” I turn and grab the first thing I see on a nearby shelf. “What’s the significance of this one?”
He frowns. “It’s sand from the beach of the last vacation we took as a family before my mom was murdered.”
I blink at him in shock.
“It was an amazing getaway because my father didn’t come.” He tucks his hands in his pockets, almost as though he doesn’t know what to do with them.
“Obsidian, your mom was murdered?” I place the sand-filled glass container on the shelf and walk over to him, my chest tight. I didn’t see anything about that when I was researching him, but I guess I was looking at more recent articles, not delving into his past that far back.
He looks down at the floor.
“That’s awful.” My hand goes to his hard chest again, and the comfort I feel at the heat of his skin through the thin fabric should concern me.
“It was. I was eight when it happened.”
“What happened? I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” I search his face.
His large hand comes to my face, and he palms my cheek. “Why does it feel like I can tell you anything, Ariana? Why are you so different from anyone who’s come before you?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I whisper.