Or the fact he’d called in his own goddamn overdose.
Still, the setupwasimpressive.
I had to give him that.
Bigger than the ones I’d used in school, it ran the full length of the house, maybe longer. And the equipment screamed state-of-the-art. Insane for a privately funded lab.
Silence filled the space between us as he led me back to the main vestibule. It couldn’t be helped though—Iwasspeechless.
This was Batman-level weird.
Before the quiet could grow uncomfortable, a man popped up. He hovered by the central staircase, and Stan, upon seeing him, heaved a sigh. “Chad?”
The other guy flicked me an inquisitive look. “Aurora wanted you to know that she and Luc hashed out a meeting. He’ll be by later with a car.”
“Tonight?”
Chad nodded.
Stan hissed under his breath. “Fine.”
That seemed to be the dismissal this Chad guy needed.
He dipped his chin at me, shot me a second glance loaded with his curiosity, then faded into the background.
I got the feeling he’d have made a really good shadow.
“I’m sorry,bedda mia. Leaving you early was not my intention.”
“It’s okay,” I soothed. Sure, I was disappointed, but duty called. There’d be plenty of occasions where work would get in the way for me too.
“Change of plan.” He snagged my hand and guided me over a red carpet worthy of an award ceremony butawayfrom the staircase.
“Where are we going?” I asked around a laugh.
“You’ll see.” His devilish smile suited him. Almost as much as him devouring cupcakes and getting fudge smeared over his lips.
One day, I was going to lick those clean for sure.
Why am I planning a life with him?!
Squirming at the thought, I gasped when he drew me into a large atrium.
At one point, this would have been a ballroom.
There were painted panels—hundreds of them. Gilt cornices and a ceiling complete with murals. Underfoot, vintage parquet flooring spread out in a symmetrical pattern.
The chandeliers,plural, matched his car size-wise, and there were so many French doors that led to balconies, it screamed security nightmare.
The building itself was younger, so I got the feeling the room had been transported from the ‘old country.’ Wherever that might be.
Talk about posturing.
“Are we dancing?” I teased as he tugged me into the middle of the dance floor, squeaking when he twirled me into a pirouette that had me collapsing against his chest.
He slid his hands over my arms, up to my shoulders, and I shivered then moaned as they made a return journey before his fingers tangled with mine.
It was difficult to remember how fast things were spinning—asfast as that pirouette he’d tumbled me into—when this felt so full of promise.
