Page 78 of Seth
“I never park in the garage.”
“Today, you will.”
* * *
Seth’s breathingslowedas his hand ran over the wood, learning the intricate ornamentation of the banisters. The same admiration he’d experienced during his first visit to Gustavo’s mansion returned as he examined the textures and ornaments in daylight. The carved wood banister by itself was a piece of art. Hand-crafted, it didn’t have a single repetition and seemingly told a story. There were no trite putti1or naked female breasts so characteristic of medieval art, but lions and dragons, fantastic birds and fish. Branching trees separated one scene from another; each fragment portrayed a war between lions and dragons, where animals of all kinds took both sides as they tore each other to pieces.
Step by step, he ascended the staircase until his foot landed on the vast mezzanine boasting an impressive library. He traced leather spines with his finger, reading the names of philosophers and historians. The blue and white silk carpet absorbed his footfalls. When he looked at his finger pad, not a single particle of dust covered it.
This house is sure loved.
A corner of his mouth curled up as a strange longing hollowed his chest. He loved his home too, but it never possessed this cozy, warm feel. Unlike this place, his home didn’t have a soul, didn’t feel alive. Wondering why this place had such a strong sense of history, Seth descended the stairs.
His brows drew up as his gaze stumbled over the blond man sitting on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest. Nostrils flared on his angry face; cheeks burned as he huffed out one breath of indignation after another as if having a heated imaginary argument.
Seth blinked. He had given him more than enough time to escape. A part of him wondered if the man was so terrified that he couldn’t move, but he quickly lost the thought as his attention jumped toward the displays. The wine collection didn’t interest him, but the antique swords and muskets carried an odd fascination.
Holding the rifle in one hand, Seth opened one of the displays. His fingers ran over the embossed lock plate of the nearest musket. Made of redwood and embellished with gold, it didn’t look like a weapon at all. A delicate carving of horsemen, dogs, and deer decorated the metal elements.A hunting musket.
The door to the office swung open. Seth instinctively raised the rifle. His finger twitched, and a deafening series of gunshots stunned him. Wooden paneling splintered, chips flew in all directions.
The blond man hunched forward, covering his head with his hands. Gustavo paled and flinched away from the slivers hitting his face. His eyes hardened as he slowly assessed the damage.
“So that’s how it works…” Seth rustled, blinking the shock away. “My bad.”
“Listen here,” Gustavo’s low voice vibrated with a warning. “I’m only going to tell you once. Shoot in my house again, and I’ll break your neck.”
Gustavo closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. His cheeks puffed as he pushed out a calming breath. A pink stripe on the bridge of his nose twitched. “Now, respect my house and hospitality, and put the weapon down before I lose my temper. Do you even know how to use it?”
“Now, I do.” Seth snorted without merriment. From the sound of Gustavo’s low, tranquil voice, every hair stood up on his arms. Watching the handsome face display one emotion after another, Seth submerged into an unpleasant flashback. An almost physical memory of the kiss made him soothe his upper lip with his tongue.
Whenever they met, his mindset, usually consistent and calm, splintered into fragments that refused to cooperate. He swallowed. The penetrative gaze snaked under his flesh, skinning him of privacy. It made him want to both riddle the man with lead and run and hide. Yet, Seth didn’t have a single valid reason to do either.
Seth concentrated, remembering his mission. Ignaz’s words, resurrecting in his ears, stripped him of options. He pointed the rifle at Gustavo. “Disarm.”
“Why so feral? I thought we were friends.” Facial expression hardening, Gustavo lifted his hands, palms forward. With two fingers, he pinched the lapel of his jacket and pulled it away, revealing a holster tucked under his arm. He withdrew the gun, then squatted down to put it on the floor. “May I ask how you entered?”
“Through the front door, just like you suggested.” Seth twitched the gun barrel at the blond man who rocked, hands wound around his middle.
“Fuck, Hans.” Gustavo cursed under his breath; his face fell. He darted to the couch, alertness sharpening his expression. The gentle, concerned voice, both confused and surprised Seth as the worry felt genuine. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
The blond man got up and shrunk away from his touch.
“You fucking promised that I’d be safe here.” Hans’ voice trembled as he threw his fist forward. His knuckles collided with Gustavo’s cheek, producing a satisfying noise. The dark-haired head whacked to the side. “He could have killed me.”
“I guess I deserved that.” Gustavo opened his mouth and worked his jaw from side to side, winced.
“Fuck you.” Hans’ lips twitched, he slumped back on the couch; arms folding. “Don’t talk to me. Right now, I’m praying he kills you.”
“I guess I deserved that too.” Gustavo rubbed his cheek. Expression darkening, he faced Seth as if he was the sole reason behind his problems. “What are you doing here? Coming uninvited has become a terrible habit of yours. Get rid of it, or I’ll help you do it.”
“You are not in a position to threaten me.” Seth rustled, vocal cords straining with the effort. “You wanted to get my attention so badly that I decided to grant your wish. Or now, when you play by my rules, it’s not funny and entertaining anymore? It was much easier to mess with me when your men had your back, right?” A shudder ran down Hans’ body; he rubbed his shoulders as if wanting to warm up. Seth wondered if the reason for this reaction was the sounds of his voice or fear. “You should be grateful I didn’t harm your lover after everything you did to mine.”
Hans’ chin jerked toward Gustavo, electric-blue eyes blazing.
Gustavo sighed. “Okay. You got me. What do you want?”
Not a single muscle twitched on Seth’s face; he moved along the bar running parallel to the mezzanine. The rifle’s barrel jerked toward the desk, ordering Gustavo to follow. Never breaking eye contact, Seth grabbed a pen from the desk and scribbled a number on a nearby sticky note.
