Page 53 of When Hearts Surrender

He motions to a small panel with a row of buttons and a tiny speaker by the door. “Each room has an intercom you can press. It connects to our phones and allows you to contact us at any time.”

“Thank you.” I smile, and he shuts the door behind him.

The drapes are drawn closed so only a sliver of daylight is seeping in. I flick on a light switch and gasp at what I see.

The most beautiful shade of shimmering teal wallpaper greets me, the crystal pendant light illuminating the delicate floral patterns, clearly hand-painted in silver, gold, and rose gold.

My hand flies to the locket he gave me, the one I can’t bear to take off. The design on the wallpaper is so similar to the carving on the locket—the same coloring, similar flowers and golden touches.

The same uncanny feeling of déjà vu hits me in the face and I pull in a rapid breath to steel my nerves.

Old houses, romantic notions—reading too many gothic novels.

Blowing out an exhale, I look around, noting a platform king-sized bed, an elegant white rug and bedspread, two beautiful armchairs by the bay windows, and a small coffee table, also in the same alluring shade of teal.

Atrovirens.

He decorated the entire room in a palate of atrovirens, my favorite color.

My breath flutters past my lips as I admire the artwork hung on the walls—bright colorful prints and sharp lines, all unmistakable works of Frida Kahlo.

He remembered—he remembered everything I told him that night.

The thought sends a sharp current to my chest, and my heart skips a beat.

A bouquet of lilies sits atop the mirrored nightstand and on it there’s a note.

Belle,

I hope you enjoy this room. Maybe this arrangement isn’t the adventure you’ve been seeking, but I hope you get what you’re lookingfor.

Maxwell

My fingers clutch the note tightly as I reread his words. Who is this man—one who seems so cold and sensitive at the same time?

Creeeak.Seconds later, a ghostly moan echoes outside my door.

I startle at the noise, my pulse roaring in my ears, and I carefully open the door to peer outside.

There’s no one there.

It’s an old house and don’t they say old houses settle?I shake myself at my silliness.

Just as I close the door, a hand snakes in and blocks it from closing fully.

I let out a shriek, leaping a back few steps before I hear a knock.

“Ms. Belle, I’ve brought you refreshments.” Agnes appears in my room a moment later with a tray, and I let out a sigh of relief.

I’m such a wuss.

Straightening up, I smooth my damp palms over my linen dress. “Thank you. Please set it over there.” I motion to the small coffee table by the windows.

She nods and keeps her eyes averted as she sets the drinks down and hurries toward the door. I frown. I may not be a mind reader, but this woman doesn’t like me. I’m sure of it.

“Agnes?”

She stops and turns toward me reluctantly. “Yes, ma’am?”

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