Swim Deep - Page 19

At the bottom of the stairs was a kitchen. Not just any kitchen, a lavish, cozy, enormous affair. It still held the charm of an old school service kitchen, although it’d been given a modern renovation that included two quartz-covered islands, a double oven with warm red brick lining the wall above it, a pressed tin roof, a seating area with deep leather chairs situated in front of a fireplace, and a casual dining table placed next to another bank of windows.

Here was the lake again, in all its glory. Although I’d come downstairs, the house was built into the mountainside. On this level, I was still a floor above the beach. A stone terrace ran outside patio doors and windows, a built-in outdoor cooking space, table and seating area awaiting some golden midmorning brunch or romantic magenta sunset.

I discovered a half full coffee pot on the counter—welcome evidence of Evan’s presence here before me.

“Evan?” I called out, but again, the vast spaces of the house swallowed up my voice.

The kitchen cabinet doors were made of paned glass. I hesitated as I looked for a coffee cup, wondering who might have drunk from it before me. Would my cup be chipped from some previous user?

Maybe smudged with old lipstick?

I found myself counting stacked plates of various sizes, teacups and coffee mugs, knowing all along I was being ridiculous. Obsessive, even. But I couldn’t stop myself. There were sixteen of each. Only one coffee cup was missing, which surely had been taken by Evan. I took down a mug, loving the heavy, creamy feeling of the everyday china in my hand. The dish looked brand new.

“Any time you find yourself doubting, remember me saying this: I’m only thinking of you when we touch. Only you, Anna.”

The memory heartened me. I suspected that Evan had purchased the dishes recently. For me. For us.

A fresh start.

Now carrying a steaming cup of coffee and feeling very happy, I opened door after door on this level, breathless with excitement. I felt like the winner of the best lottery in existence, going through her treasures for the first time.

Here was a well-stocked pantry that was twice the size of my rented room in San Francisco, and here a mahogany wine cellar with a tasting table in the center of it. Down a jog of stone steps, I located a changing room for the beach and exercise room, a wet and dry sauna, and a large laundry room.

I spied another closed door down the passage and headed toward it, positive of another treasure about to be discovered. I opened it and stood on the edge of utter blackness.

Disorientation struck me. I realized later it was because the room was on the beach side, and so I’d expected bright sunlight. Instead, there was an open space in front of me, but it was a black hole. I reached and immediately found a porcelain light switch. Ever so briefly, I thought of the story of Bluebeard’s wife opening the forbidden door. Ignoring the stupid, intrusive thought, I flipped on the light.

Color assaulted me. Forget the blue of the beard. This was red. Everywhere. There were rows and rows of velvet lounging chairs and couches, smooth monochromatic scarlet intermixed with complex tapestries. Red velvet fabric covered the walls, sometimes in a wallpaper, sometimes swooping in lush U-shaped drapery.

I’d lit a crystal chandelier that hung in the center of the room. The cut glass teardrops absorbed the pervasive scarlet, turning them into bloodshot diamonds. There was an elaborate bar and storage unit to the side of the room, the amber, brown, and green liquor bottles providing the only variance of color.

Dust lay heavily on everything—the crystal decanters, the overhead chandelier, the oceans of velvet.

This was beyond luxury. It was decadence. There was some odor, something I didn’t like. Moisture and mold. Sweat? The heavy fabrics held on fast to a stew of cloying scents: the lingering stench of old cigars and women’s perfume. Exhaled liquor.

A rich musk.

I didn’t want to breathe it in. This room was unlike any other I’d seen in the house so far. It was a sealed-off chamber, no windows, and seemingly no decent ventilation.

I backed out quickly into the hall without thinking, and then paused as I remembered the light. I reached around the doorframe, hesitant this time. My fingers skittered reluctantly along the velvet. It felt slightly moist and rough, warmer than I’d thought it would, like I’d thrust my hand into a living thing, as if my fingers ran along the inner lining of a mouth or something even more illicit…

“Anna?”

My forefinger encountered the switch at the same moment I heard Evan’s voice behind me. I flicked it and hurriedly shut the door.

It wasn’t until I turned to face his approaching figure that I realized I was behaving guiltily, like I’d been caught doing something bad. Evan slowed as he reached me, his brow creasing as he studied my face. My cheeks felt hot.

“Ex

ploring?” he asked me. His voice sounded level—calm even—but his eyes were searching.

“Yes. I was just—” I pointed lamely at the closed door and laughed.

“Looking at the viewing room?” he finished for me.

“Viewing room?” For viewing what, exactly?

He nodded, his gaze narrowing on me. He took my hand.

Tags: Beth Kery Romance
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