Page 36 of A Forbidden Arrangement
I step out, blanket draped over my shoulders like armor, and start walking. The staircase curves at the end, sweeping down into the open space below. My grip tightens on the banister as I take each step, pausing halfway to listen. Still nothing.
There’s a sitting room at the bottom. Oversized couches, plush, the kind you sink into and don’t get up from. A fireplace fills the far wall, stone stacked neatly, a rug laid perfectly square in front of it. Shelves rise on either side, packed with books, spines uncreased.
One thing breaks the order. A chessboard waits on a low table near the fire, pieces frozen mid-game. White pressing forward, black cornered.
I crouch a little closer, tracing the lines. The patterns don’t add up. Both sides made the same mistakes. Same aggressive openings, same sloppy trades. I study it before gently moving the knight. Check.
I don’t stay long, continuing my explorations. Double doors open into a dining room. The table runs nearly the whole length of the space, dark wood polished to the same shine as the floors. Too many chairs. Twenty at least. Every one of them tucked in, except the one at the far end, where a chair’s angled outward. The only sign that anyone’s been in here.
I slip back into the hall. It feels like it goes on forever. Old wood trim frames every doorway, carved with intricate lines. The ceilings are heavy with detail, moldings stacked like crowns. This place is more like a castle than a house.
My hand trails along a paneled wall, following the grooves cut into the grain as I explore.
The hair stands up at the back of my neck when I see the thin strip of light bleeding out of the bottom of a door, glowing pale against the floor. My stomach drops, and I freeze, every muscle going rigid.
I back up slowly, my heel squeaking against the hardwood, and my pulse slams in my throat. I turn fast, moving the other way, breath tight, too loud. The halls split and twist until I lose track of where I am.
An open doorway waits ahead. I don’t hesitate to slip inside, pressing flat against the wall until my chest eases enough to inhale.
Glass walls rise around me, stretching high. The ceiling arches, the night sky visible through the clear panes. Constellations take up every inch of the black canvas. I stay that way, head tipped back, mouth slightly open until my neck hurts. My vision adjusts to the dark, the moonlight more than enough to illuminate the space. The blanket slips from my shoulder as I step in farther, caught by the sheer size of it. It smells faintly of earth, rows of planters filled with dry soil and dead vines.
For the first time in months, my muscles ease, shoulders dropping as I trace the rim of a chipped pot. It’s easy to imagine what this place was like when it was still alive. I let myself get lost in thoughts of peonies, dahlias, and bright pink cosmos, flowers spilling color across the space. There’s a dull ache beneath my ribs as Bradley’s words seep in.“You’re not talented like your grandmother. You won’t be able to pay off the lien on your own.”I push the thought away, but it lingers. I gave away the cutters, boxed the ribbon, told myself I would be practical. Then I found him with someone else.
Pain cuts through my thoughts. Blood pools at the tip of my fingers from where it got caught on a sharp edge. I slip it into my mouth.
A floorboard complains behind me, and I spin to face it.
Xander stands blocking out the light from the hallway.
My throat tightens. I don’t want to be anywhere near him, but he’s blocking off the only exit.
His gaze flicks to the blood on my fingers, then to my face. His jaw shifts once. “What are you doing here?”
“Am I not allowed?” My voice comes out steady enough.
“I didn’t expect you to leave your room so soon.”
I shrug. “Wanted to examine my cage.”
He steps closer by an inch, his shadow stretching across the floor, nearly reaching me. Prickles tingle down my spine as the air compresses with his presence. He’s not looking at me, instead studying the room. “And you ended up in the greenhouse.”
“Who let it die?” I ask before I can talk myself out of it.
“It’s been this way since I was a child. No one’s shown any interest in keeping it up.” His voice is flat.
“Seems like a waste.”
“It is.” His mouth barely moves, but his gaze lands firmly on mine, and the weight of it has me pressing further into the planter.
My head grows light, a buzz building under my skin with each passing moment. Something about the night, this room, this man, has me entranced.
My grip tightens on the wood, and I wince, instantly bringing my hand up, but my wrist is caught before I can pop it back into my mouth and remove the sting.
Time freezes as Xander slowly lifts my hand, eyes never leaving mine, and brings his tongue to the cut. I gasp. Any pain is instantly forgotten, and electricity travels from his touch down my arm until it lights a fire in my stomach.
“You should be in bed.” Breaking the trance he holds me in, he releases my hand. It hovers between us for several mortifying seconds before dropping to my side, curling into a fist.
“I’ve been in bed.” The words come out as a rasp, and I swallow against my dry throat.
