Page 67 of Scarlett and the Big Bad Billionaire
“Not bad,” he said. “You’d make a decent special ops soldier.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’d make a terrible jail inmate, though. I’m kind of scared. What are we doing here?”
“Don’t worry. We’re not gonna get caught.” He grabbed my hand and started jogging.
Now that we were on this side of the incline, I saw his target—a large, round, glassed-in gazebo. It was spectacular, with white columns supporting a segmented dome-shaped glass roof and French doors on every side.
They were all closed, naturally, but I could picture this little oasis during the estate’s heyday in the 1920’s. There would have been a harpist or maybe a string quartet playing inside, perhaps an afternoon ladies’ card game or a candlelit dinner for two, the open doors providing a cooling breeze on hot days.
When we reached it, Gray tried one of the doors. It opened easily, and he gestured for me to go in.
I was surprised to find the interior warm, almost hot. He answered my unspoken question.
“The glass ceiling and walls create a greenhouse effect. The stone flooring holds onto the day’s trapped heat for a few hours. Late at night, it would probably get cold, but the sun hasn’t been down that long.”
I strolled the small, circular space, taking in the panoramic view, padded window seats, and the two large, padded chaise loungers in the center. My stomach felt a little flurry of movement as I imagined stretching one of them out to its full, flat position.
“How did you know about this place?”
“I toured the mansion a couple years ago when my mom came to town,” Gray said. “The society lady who lived on the estate when the place was first built used to hold tea parties out here—and sometimes torrid affairs with her many lovers.”
With a wink, he added, “Don’t worry, they’ve changed out the furniture since then.”
With a few efficient moves, Gray had both the loungers flattened and pushed together, forming a makeshift double bed.
“I thought we could lie down and look up at the stars,” he said by way of explanation. I liked that he didn’t automatically assume we were going to have sex.
It made mewantto have sex with him. More than I already did.
I nodded and sat on the edge of one lounge chair then scooted back and stretched out. Gray stretched out on the chair beside me, lying close with his shoulder touching mine.
Both of us looked up at the stars clearly visible through the glass ceiling.
“It’s almost like a painting, isn’t it?” he asked. “Though not even Van Gogh could really capture it.”
Van Gogh’s famous masterpiece,Starry Night, was one of the most recognized and beloved art works in the world, but it was far from a peaceful scene.
Instead, his rendering of the night sky was an almost frenetic representation of light and motion and energy. It made me think of something Vivi had said about Gray.
I turned my head toward him and touched his hand lightly. “Gray?”
He grabbed my hand, entwining our fingers. “Hmmm?”
“Vivi told me something about you recently.”
Gray’s grip tightened. “What was it?”
“She said you wanted to ‘make beauty out of chaos.’ What does that mean? Does it have something to do with your time as a SEAL?”
He didn’t look at me but kept staring at the stars.
“I don’t remember saying that to her.”
“But that is what you want, isn’t it? Is that what your tattoo designs are? Taking something painful and making it beautiful?”
I watched his profile, the thoughts moving over his face in rapid succession. Surprise. Reluctance. Fear?
“I don’t really talk about that stuff.”
