He just rarely wants to.
I pour myself another cup of coffee and lean against the counter, content to watch how this plays out.
Chapter twenty-nine
Christianna
I don’t blame Meg for leaving. I would have too.
No. That’s a lie.
I’ve never been good at letting someone suffer alone.
I don’t blame her, though. Meg was raised by a stringent taskmaster.
I raised myself.
I glance at Remy and decide that showing fear would be a mistake. Fear makes you containable. I refuse to give anyone that. Not anymore.
But the line between not showing fear and being stupid is thin. I stand and wrap the blanket tighter around me. Erik’s shirt hangs nearly to my knees, but I am in hotel room alone with two men I don’t know. Well, don’t know anymore.
I cross the room toward Erik and reach past him for a sweetener packet. My arm grazes his chest, my heart gives a little jump. Swallowing, I take the cup and a stir stick and slowly mix the sugar in.
Then I look up.
Erik is watching me, head tilted slightly, a bemused expression playing at the corner of his mouth.
I carry the cup back to the chair and sit, taking a slow, deliberate sip.
“Is there something you needed to discuss with me, Mr. Robichaux?” My voice stays soft. Curious. Polite.
“How did you end up in Erik’s suite? You were never in the hall last night. I have motion cameras.”
The silence stretches.
I don’t rush to fill it.
I lower the cup to my knee and meet his gaze, steady.
“I didn’t walk the hall,” I continue. “I stepped onto the balcony.”
That’s all I give him.
Not how. Not why. I have done nothing to give him reason to interrogate me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Erik’s pause. The coffee stops dripping. He doesn’t turn, but I know he’s listening now.
Remy exhales slowly through his nose. He seems to be searching for patience. Or he realized he didn’t account for the balcony as an entry point.
“I’m not sure what the concern is,” I continue evenly. “I love music. Erik is exceptionally talented. I leaned out to catch the notes and slipped. He heard me,” I add softly, “and came to my rescue.”
I glance toward Erik.
He’s standing at the counter, cup already filled, completely still. The Keurig has gone quiet, but he hasn’t moved. His attention isn’t on the coffee. It’s on me.
“Thank you, by the way,” I say, letting the moment stretch. “I don’t think I said that last night.”
His gaze meets mine, sharp and considering, like he’s only just realizing there was a choice involved. That he made one.
