Page 54 of Phantom
Up until a few minutes ago, I was certain I was going to be locked up in this medievalesque underground lair for the rest of my days, so the fact that he’s wanting to go to amasqueradeof all things silences my questions. For now.
While I’m getting ready in the en suite bathroom, I apply mascara, a little blush on my cheeks, and lip gloss. My curls can’t be tamed, so I leave them down to do their thing. When I’m finished, I slip into the trumpet gown and nude strappy heels.
The off-the-shoulder neckline kisses the top of my breasts. My hands move with a mind of their own as they smooth along the curves I suddenly have. The shimmery fabric flares out where a thigh-high slit rests just below my hip. It’s gorgeous, decadent, and easily the most expensive piece of clothing I’ve ever worn.
But not only is the zipper impossible for me to reach by myself, the off-the-shoulder straps are supposed to crisscross down my spine to tie into a bow at the small of my back. I take a steadying breath, knowing I’m about to have to let Sol touch me again so he can do the job.
Hopefully I can control myself this time, Jesus.
I leave the bathroom while holding the back of my dress together awkwardly and find Sol sitting on the bed, scratching the right side of his face while he looks at his phone. He’s already changed into a charcoal-gray suit and white button-down with a rose gold satin tie that matches my dress.
“Ah, all done? Let’s go—” He lifts his head up from his phone and does a double take.
His lips part in shock. Mine do the same, although, at the moment, I might be more stunned than he is. The mask he wears tonight doesn’t even look fake. It fits him like a second skin, as if he’s rolled it onto his face and adhered to it. I’ve seen plenty of talented makeup artists in the industry, but if I wasn’t as close to him as I am right now, I wouldn’t know it was a mask at all.
I bite my lip and his gaze darts to my mouth. The hunger in that vivid midnight eye makes my core clench and my barely there thong is already getting soaked.
He swallows, seemingly gaining the composure that is still evading me. “You’re breathtaking, Scarlett.”
Heat blooms to my cheeks and my gaze falls to the ground. He’s there in an instant, lifting my chin to meet his sparkling midnight eye. The right one is extremely dark, though almost identical. ButIcan tell the difference between the man and the fake.
“Don’t hide from me, little muse,” he murmurs, searching my eyes. “Own your beauty.”
If the eyes are a window to a man’s soul, then my demon of music has starlight in his dark depths. Everyone else says his eyes are black as coal, so does that mean I’m the only one who can see the man inside the phantom?
Settle down, girl. You barely know him, and from what you do know, he’s your stalker.
And my savior.
I can’t tell anymore who’s winning these arguments, my head or my heart. But I’m relieved to know that I haven’t been steadily losing my mind over the past several months.
What I thought were auditory hallucinations was actually Sol’s very real piano playing. The music sheets and roses didn’t just appear out of thin air, he’d left them after moving silently through my mirror in my room. Sol was behind it all, which means I haven’t relapsed into a manic episode. I’m still healthy, in remission, andnoton the verge of psychosis again.
“I um… I can’t tie this by myself.”
He releases my chin as I turn around for his help. Through the open bathroom door, I can see our reflection in the mirror and easily read the reverence in his gaze as his fingers skate down my bare back.
“Mmm… yes. When I told the boutique owner to send their finest, this was exactly what I envisioned. Heads will roll if they stare at what’s mine for too long, but goddamn am I a lucky bastard for getting to look at you all night.”
My heart flutters at his words while my logic tells me I should correct him. That I’m nothis.
But I want to be.
His fingertips send electric shivers throughout my body while he zips me up. When he finishes, he takes his time to tie the dress’s ribbon straps at the small of my back. Once I’m securely in my dress, he pulls my thick black curls over my shoulder and looks at me in the mirror as he leaves the lightest of kisses on my nape.
I’mthis closeto being totally okay with remaining his captive and living in this modern medieval lair forever. But he pulls away, leaving me bereft of his touch, and mad that I almost gave in so quickly again. Sol Bordeaux is quickly teaching me that even when I’m sane, I’m one complex bitch.
I swallow and turn to face him, studiously ignoring the desire on his face, even though it’s tempting me to throw all caution to the wind.
“Exquisite,ma chère.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. Bordeaux.”
He grimaces. “Sol, please, little muse.”
“So that’s a no to calling you my demon of music? And what about the Phantom of the French Quarter?” I tease. “How did you get that nickname by the way?”
His lips quirk up. “You’ll see me in action tonight. Come on, we should go before it closes.”
