Page 64

I had the urge to explore and be curious, I wanted to learn and observe my surroundings. But not to try and escape.

I wanted to indulge myself in mystery and figure out more about the man who claimed to be dangerous, but showed me sympathy.

Looking around the hall, I saw another door just off to my left. It was partially open and calling my name.

Tip toeing over, I barely touched it with my fingertips to nudge it open. The room was dark and had a musty scent. The air was thick and dense.

This room is filled with sadness.

Running my hand over the wall beside me, I found the switch and flicked it on. The glow from above ignited in a gray dust ball, encasing the room in a white haze. As the dust cloud settled and my eyes adjusted to the bright light, I was able to see that this room was very different from the rest.

There were pictures hanging on the walls, furniture that held age and showed wear like it had been used. A small desk was tucked under a boarded up window, the top was still tousled in papers and books as if whoever used it last just got up and never came back.

A large king size bed jetted out into the middle of the room. Slowly I stepped to the bed, letting my toes dig in and enjoy the soft carpet.

I couldn't stop staring at how intricate the frame was. Huge posts came out of each side, almost touching the ceiling. The wood was dark like a chestnut or mahogany. But it was the designs that kept me staring. Each one had spirals cut and etched into it, small leaves were scribbled around like vines had grown into the wood and turned to fossils.

I was awe struck. Confusion sat in the front of my mind, making me wonder why the hell this room was so well preserved, and the rest of the house was empty.

Standing at the desk, I found several small frames with aged and weathered pictures. The images were covered in a thick layer of dust, the once glossy photos now warped and tarred in orange stains.

Picking up the first one, I blew off the dust and rubbed it clean with my thumb. Holding it closer, I inspected the people.

It was two men and a woman. Both men were dressed in tailored suits, a cigar clenched in their teeth, and arms resting over each other’s shoulders. The woman was in a deep blue ball gown, the tail flowing out to her side and wrapping around her ankles in the front.

Her hair was pulled up tight, a huge cascade of pearls lined her neck, one arm draped over the guy on the right. She looked happy, enjoying whatever moment was captured right then.

The smile of each man was giant and not forced. As I examined closer, I realized that I knew who both men were. The years between the photo and now had taken their toll, but there was no mistaking it.

It was Remo and Bane.

“You found your way out.”

Jumping, my hands released the picture and dropped it onto the desk top. “Dante, you scared me.” Picking up the frame, I checked it over. “Good, it didn't break.”

“I'm glad you're still here. I was pretty sure I'd come back to an empty house and you'd be long gone, on your way to protective custody and a witness protection program.” Slumping his shoulder into the door frame, his thumbs jerked from his pockets as he shrugged.

“Yeah well . . . It took me a little while to get the lock off.”

“Really? You don't strike me as the type of girl who can't figure out a lock.”

“It wasn't that . . .” Pausing, I felt the same worry about leaving flood my veins. “But I got it off eventually.”

His big brown eyes examined me. It was like he was trying to read my mind, figure out why the lock had been difficult. Darting my gaze back to the picture, I didn't want him to figure it out. I didn't want him to know how uncomfortable it was for me to actually unlock myself.

There was no point in letting him into my troubled brain, sharing my feelings about leaving that room, and being free from my leash.

If he knew then there was a chance he'd lock me back up, that he'd enjoy the idea of me being at his mercy and under his spell.

I wanted to change the subject, that turmoil was just for me. “Who's this?” I asked, tilting the picture in the light.

“You don't know?” Angling his head, he rested it against the doorframe.

“I know who these two are,” I said, pointing to Remo and Bane. “But the woman, who's the woman?”

“That's my mother.”

“She's beautiful.” Glancing back down, I ran a finger over her face.