“What … why…?”
Her bafflement tugged on one corner of his mouth. It wasn’t exactly a smile, but it was close.
“We’re at my place.”
Sure enough, the limo had stopped moving. She couldn’t make anything out through the windows, except an overcast of clouds. It took her a moment to realize she was slumped as low as she could possibly go on the seat, practically on the limo floor with him.
Flushing, she wiggled up, dragging her clothes and shoes back into place as she did so. The higher she got, the more of her surroundings came into view.
A building of blinding white stucco glowed beneath the evening sky. The Mediterranean style mansion sat at the end of a glittering carpet of polished stone and was surrounded by lush lawns, towering trees and gleaming lamps. A stone fountain bubbled melodiously at the foot of marble steps leading to a set of wide, wooden doors. It was that that propelled Juliette from the car, the woman standing on a stone dais in the center of the fountain, pouring water out of a clay pot. She wore a flowing gown with thick straps and while the whole sculpture was flawless white, Juliette pictured the dress to be purple to match the band keeping back the riot of curls spilling recklessly down a slender back. The hair would be dark … black and the eyes…
Juliette crossed the cobblestone to stand at the base.
Brown, she decided. The woman’s eyes would be a soft, hazel brown.
It was ridiculous to imagine colors on a colorless statue, but there was something about the whole piece that didn’t seem random.
“She’s so beautiful,” Juliette said, as Killian came up beside her. “Did she come with the fountain or was she specially made?”
“It’s my mother.” His hands dipped into the pockets of his trousers and he tipped his head back to peer into the statue’s smiling face. “My father had it made after she passed.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, knowing all too well the pains of losing a mother.
She started to open her mouth and tell him she knew how he felt, but he was already walking away. She didn’t stop him. Instead, she turned towards the limo, intending to go back and get her things, but the car was gone. The giant they’d driven back with stood a few feet away, solemnly watching something over her head.
Again, her mouth opened to ask him where her stuff was.
“Marco will bring everything inside,” Killian said before she could get the words out.
Left with no other choice, she followed him towards the house and the steps. He offered her his hand, taking her completely by surprise.
“The stones can be slippery,” he told her when she peered up at him.
Gingerly, she settled her fingers into his palm and watched as her entire hand was seamlessly swallowed with just a mere curl of his long fingers. He guided her up and through the doors, which pulled open before he could touch them.
Two men dressed in navy suits stood stationed just inside. Neither glanced at Juliette when she and Killian walked through. The doors were shut behind them.
“Would you like a drink?” Killian glanced back over his shoulder as he made his way deeper through the spacious foyer.
Like the outside, the inside was a sprawling catacomb of gleaming stone and iron. The front entrance opened in three separate sections that led into rooms that could easily fit her entire house. At first glance the two open doorways on either side of her opened to a pair of sitting areas and she couldn’t fathom why anyone needed two when she noticed one had a TV and the other didn’t. It still made no sense, but then decorating his house wasn’t why she was there.
Her gaze went to the man waiting for her a few feet away.
“Water, please.”
He eyed her a moment. “I have champagne.”
Juliette shook her head. “No, thank you.”
Her response seemed to confuse him, but he didn’t ask. He motioned her to follow him past an elegant set of stairs sweeping upwards to the second floor. They walked in silence through a wide corridor lined with windows looking out onto what appeared to be a garden barely illuminated in the darkness. It ended at a wide opening and a doorway.
Juliette stayed just outside, balancing on the threshold as he walked to the fridge and yanked it open.
The kitchen, like all the other rooms, was enormous. Much too big for the single corner it took up. An island was bolted in the center, cutting the kitchen away from the rest of the space. Across the room, lights spilled through the sheer drapes hanging over a series of French doors and cut patches into the marble floors.
“Don’t like it?” Killian was walking towards her, a frosty glass bottle of water in hand.
Juliette shook her head. “It’s nice.”
A snort left him. “It’s a waste of space, but I rarely entertain … or cook.”
Not knowing what to say to that, Juliette accepted the bottle and broke the seal on the cap. She took a long sip. The ice cold liquid cut a path down the center of her chest to fill her stomach. It didn’t put the fire out that he’d lit there, but it calmed some of it.
She replaced the cap. “Thank you.”
He peered at her while she offered him the bottle back. He seemed, as always, to be waiting for something, like somehow, she hadn’t conducted herself the way he’d expected and that made her nervous. She needed for that night to go well. Really well. She needed for him to have the time of his life. Otherwise, she would never be free of Arlo.
He took the water and peered down at the clear, white glass. He weighed it a moment in his hand before walking to the island and setting the bottle down. The muffled crack echoed in the silence.
Juliette fidgeted nervously. “So…” she murmured. “This is a nice house. Have you lived here long?”
Killian’s head lifted slowly and turned in her direction. One eyebrow lifted, but there was amusement in his eyes.
“Are you making small talk?”
A flush worked up her throat to fill her face. “What? No … maybe,” she mumbled at last. She offered him a sheepish half grin. “Sorry.”
His mouth twitched and for a moment, she honestly thought he was going to smile. But it was gone as he started towards her, though the light remained shimmering in his eyes.
“Come.”
She followed him back the way they’d come. In the foyer, he turned left and started up the staircase. Juliette faltered at the bottom. Her fingers were sweaty when she closed them around the polished banister. Her knees wobbled and her grip tightened.
God, this was it. He was taking her to his room where he would … panic lodged in her throat, making her heart drum wildly between her ears. Ahead of her, Killian paused and glanced back. His gaze was questioning.
I can do this! she told herself. It’ll be okay. It’s only one night.
But a lot could happen in a night. He was a perfect stranger. He could be a serial killer, or worse. He could tie her down and do whatever he wanted and no one knew where she was.
Oh God … no one knew where she was. Hell, she didn’t know where she was. He had distracted her the entire drive. They could be in another city for all she knew.
“Juliette?” Killian took one step down.
Get a grip! The voice in her head hissed, jolting her out of her crippling terror.
It was a wonder when her legs didn’t fold beneath her with her first unsteady attempt. She managed to make it all the way to the step beneath his without tumbling down to her death.
Killian stayed put for a full heartbeat, looking like he wanted to say something, but seemed to think better of it as he turned and lead the way down a long corridor.
At the end, the hallway split off in two separate directions before looping around and coming to a full circle on the other side of a large opening that looked down into a whole other section of the place. Juliette peered over the iron railing and saw only the rose marble flooring below. On the other side of the circle was a set of wrought iron stairs leading downward.