Page 65 of Let the Game Begin (Kiss Me Like You Love Me #1)
Selene
I stood motionless, staring down the door of the room that contained the memory boxes.
It was still locked, so I could only stare at its wooden surface as though hoping that at any moment the answers I sought might be inscribed upon it.
I understood that something terrible had happened to Neil, and the newspaper articles about a scandal only increased my suspicions.
Perhaps I should have been understanding and patient with him, waiting until I had completely earned his trust. He was a unique man, after all.
Every day, he grappled with his problems and never allowed anyone to stay by his side.
But I didn’t want to give up. At least, not that easily.
“Selene, are we going?” Logan drew my attention, and I turned to find him right next to me.
I hadn’t even heard his footsteps echoing down the hall.
We’d agreed to meet up that afternoon because we were going to spend some time in Matt’s private library.
We intended to do some research and try to solve the riddle that Player 2511 had sent us.
“Yeah.” I followed him to the library, and as soon as I walked through the door, I was amazed.
The smell of paper and books overwhelmed me, drawing me deeper into an environment I preferred above all others.
The dark wood of the floor gave the room a magical ambiance.
A ladder leaned against the high shelves to allow readers to retrieve the volumes placed up near the ceiling.
Daylight filtered in through an enormous window, lighting up the sleek mahogany desk where my father usually sat to read his medical periodicals.
Not far away from it were some Gothic-style armchairs with sage-colored cushions and a wooden table with a vase of fresh flowers on it.
Undoubtedly, it was replaced every day by Anna.
“How many books are in here?” I asked, visibly shocked as I gawked around the room, tilting my head back.
“More than six thousand. There are also a number of first editions,” Logan told me, giving me an amused look.
“Damn! It reminds me a little bit of the library at Hearst Castle,” I noted with a smile.
“Whose castle?” He asked.
“William Randolph Hearst’s. A newspaper magnate who lived in California.” I continued to gaze admiringly at the incredibly high shelves all around me, slowly rotating to see them all. This had officially become my favorite room in the house.
“So, what are we doing here?”
I jerked when I heard Neil’s voice, and all at once, the books were no longer the center of my attention.
“Thanks for being on time,” Logan chided, but Neil remained unmoved. He leaned against the edge of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for a real answer.
He didn’t pay me any attention, so I decided that I could be indifferent as well and made myself comfortable in one of the armchairs.
“Okay,” Logan began, putting on his black eyeglasses.
It gave him a scholarly look. “We’ve got a library full of books here, and I’ve already identified some that might help us.
” He grabbed a volume and handed it to me before doing the same thing to Neil.
“Look at these carefully and try to find anything you can about the music box: its origin, its function, possible stories or legends connected to it… Basically anything that helps us learn more about it. It’s the same sender as the first one, so just as the choice of the raven wasn’t random, the music box probably wasn’t, either,” he finished gravely, sitting down in the armchair opposite me.
“Agreed.” I opened the book he’d given me and began leafing through it.
The pages were marked by time, with tiny characters so faded in places that deciphering the writing was difficult.
Neil was turning the pages of his own book, an unlit cigarette clamped between his full lips.
His pack of Winstons sat on the desk next to him.
The pack was never far away from him, and I wondered just how much he smoked per day and how old he’d been when he started.
His eyes were lowered to his book, his powerful shoulders pushing him slightly forward. A messy forelock hung over his forehead, and his stubble punctuated the contours of his perfect face. His long eyelashes dipped downward.
He took the cigarette between his index and middle fingers, and with that same hand, paged through the book. He never took his eyes off it, the way I should have been doing, if I wasn’t sitting just a few feet away from him. Even the way he held his cigarette was beguiling.
Logan cleared his throat, and I looked up immediately. Logan was staring at me with his brows furrowed. I blushed violently and ducked my head back into the book.
After Logan’s nonverbal scolding, I didn’t have the courage to lift my nose out of the books or to divert my attention to the gorgeous human disaster to my left.
About thirty minutes of intense silence passed, during which I genuinely committed myself to searching for anything that might help us.
“Find anything?” Logan asked, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes.
“No,” I sighed and he nodded, as though willing himself not to lose heart.
“What about you, Neil?” He turned toward his brother, who had opened another book, abandoning the first.
“Fuck all,” he answered, blunt and impatient, and kept on ignoring me. He didn’t even so much as glance in my direction. It was like I wasn’t even in the room.
“Okay, let’s keep looking then. Onward!” Logan encouraged us as he pushed his glasses back on and resumed his desperate search.
Another twenty minutes of silent concentration passed.
The only sound was the occasional faint rustling of paper whenever one of us turned a page, hoping to find something of interest. Suddenly, I huffed out a breath and took a break to stretch my arms, which were starting to feel sluggish.
As I did so, I turned my face to Neil and caught him watching me.
He was looking at me—just me. I could hardly believe it. I lowered my arms awkwardly and returned his stare intensely.
Then Neil did something unexpected: he inserted his right index finger between the abandoned pages of his book and made an opening there. Then, he slowly glided his finger back and forth, as if he were petting the smooth paper.
I watched him from under my eyelashes and saw how his chest rose and fell. Seconds later, I realized that he was making an obscene gesture and concealing it with the book. I gulped and turned red.
He quirked a corner of his mouth, delighted by his filthy simulation, and I tilted my face down in embarrassment. But not before checking to make sure that Logan hadn’t noticed anything.
I cleared my throat and gave Neil another sideways look, keeping my face tilted down.
I could feel his golden gaze hot on me, and I struggled not to fall into its trap once again.
Had he lost his mind? Right there in front of his brother he was…
trying to provoke me? Seduce me? Mess with me?
He had been ignoring me for two weeks, and just then, I was wishing that he’d kept that up.
“Hey! I think I found something!” Fortunately, Logan interrupted the intimate moment, drawing our attention to something far more important.
“Fantastic, good job, Sherlock,” Neil teased, closing his book.
I was never going to be able to look at a book again without thinking obscene thoughts.
“Let’s see.” Logan got up from his chair, holding the book in both hands.
“The music box emerged in the late seventeen hundreds. They are sentimental items, cloaked in mystery and a powerful fascination. Many legends swirl around music boxes, but one of the most significant is that of the famous…” He looked up at me and Neil and then continued to read.
“Angel of the Music Box.” Logan appeared to have hit upon exactly what we were looking for, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know exactly what was hidden inside the puzzle.
“Keep going,” I said, sounding uncertain.
“The Angel of the Music Box is one of the earliest folktales about music boxes. It tells the story of a young girl who lived with her father and brother. On her twelfth birthday, her father gifted the girl a music box with an angel inside, promising that the angel would protect her for the rest of her life. The angel was God’s messenger, bringer of justice, peace, and love. ”
“So far it doesn’t sound like anything to worry about,” I commented.
“Keep going,” Neil prompted, staring intently at his brother, who immediately resumed his recitation.
“However, the father forbade the little girl to touch the music box, as it was a very fragile and valuable object, and he stored it in his own room. One day, the little girl disobeyed her father and crept into his bedroom to take the object of her desires. But the music box fell to the floor, and the angel shattered into countless pieces.” Logan sighed and glanced up nervously at us before continuing.
“Upon returning to the house, her father found the destroyed music box and shouted at her. He upbraided her for her disobedience but did say that he would attempt to repair the music box. A few days later, the girl entered her home and found the music box sitting on a table as though it were brand new. She turned the crank, the music box opened, and she saw that her angel was no longer inside it; instead there was a monstrous demon. Frightened, the girl backed away and encountered her father. ‘This is your punishment for disobeying me,’ he told her, and the little girl burst into tears,” Logan finished, looking thoughtfully at us.
“So what’s it supposed to mean?” I asked skeptically.
“The devil in the music box basically means punishment,” Logan stated.
“So, we have a raven that symbolizes revenge and an angel painted to look like a demon, which suggests punishment…and…” I rubbed the back of my neck, still confused. I didn’t get the relevance of the music box to the raven and vice versa.
“Maybe the punishment already happened,” Neil said, staring off into space. He’d been silent this whole time, just listening to us. I regarded him carefully. The smile, the charming expression, and the sly look had disappeared completely, giving way to a grave awareness.
“What are you talking about?” Logan asked with a frown.
“That some disobedient person has always paid the price for their actions.” Neil explained in a low voice, causing a frosty silence to descend in his wake.
“And do you know who that might be?” Logan stepped cautiously toward Neil, who slowly fixed his golden stare on his brother’s face.
“No.” Neil swallowed hard, moving closer to Logan. “But whoever it is, I give you my word that nothing is going to happen to our family.” He said it with such simple confidence. There was no fear in those luminous eyes, just a deep sense of responsibility that lay heavily on his shoulders.
“Why would anything happen to the family?” I got up from my chair as agitation began to stir in my blood. He might not have been afraid, but I sure was.
“Because every game has winners and losers, Selene,” he answered inscrutably, and I straightened my spine. I hadn’t heard my name on his lips in a long time; it seemed somehow even more melodious to me.
“So, let’s be winners,” I answered so decisively that Logan’s hazel eyes also darted to me. Neil stared at me in that deep, dark way of his and then smiled pityingly at me, as though convinced that only an idiot could believe we might win at this game.