Page 176 of Twisted Knight

“What? It’s not for two months. How did you even know?”

Now that we’re alone, Holden leans forward and kisses me. It’s gentle yet urgent. Tender but laden with desire. When it ends, he rests his forehead against mine. “You forget, I know everything.”

And before I can respond, he grabs my hand and leads me farther into the building. But when we go through the next set of doors, I realize this is anything but a building, it’s a theater of some sort.

I look around. At the ceilings. At the walls. At the stage. The small area is ornate in the best way possible with appliquéd walls and thick velvet drapes framing the stage. Polished wood sits on its floor and oversized theater seats are spread out and luxuriously spaced rather than being right on top of each other.

“Holden.” His name sounds like how I feel—in awe. “This place is incredible. Look at the attention to detail on everything.”

I look back to him and find him smiling at me. And there’s something in his smile that has me only wanting to look solely at him when I’m in a room where everything is beautiful.

“It’s an incredible place. Built in the early 1900s. Purchased by a private buyer who restored it to its original state and has kept it that way.”

“How did you find this? I mean”—I look back up and turn my face up to the ceiling—“it’s stunning.”

“Mmm-hmm. It is. Now this? This is where I’m going to need you to trust me, Sunshine.”

“What? Why?” What does he have up his sleeve?

“Please, take a seat.” He motions to a seat in the middle of the front row.

“Why? Why am I getting a feeling I’m not going to like this?” I chuckle nervously.

“Why? Because I asked you to and this is where you stop trying to control the situation and let me handle things.”

I fight my inherent response to tell him I can handle things myself. But I’m able to staunch it. “Has anyone told you that I don’t do well with surprises?”

“You seemed to do perfectly well with the surprise I threw at you today, now, didn’t you?”

Shit. I guess I can’t use that excuse.

He leans in and kisses me, hands cupping my face and lips coaxing me to relax. “Trust me.” There’s a tenderness in his voice, in his eyes, that has emotion lumping in my throat.

It’s like something has suddenly shifted. What is it? I can’t put my finger on it, but it has.

I trust him. And that’s not an easy thing for me.

“C’mon, Sunshine. Sit down for me and close your eyes.”

I do as he asks. It’s incredibly hard for me to not sneak a peek but after everything he’s done tonight, the least I can do is not ruin whatever surprise he has planned.

“You good?” he murmurs as our joined hands lower as he takes a seat beside me.

“I’m good.”

There is shuffling. Some footsteps. A cleared throat.

And then the music begins to play. It’s the slow, melodic sound of a cello. It’s deep and melancholic and when my eyes flash open, the gasp that falls from my shocked lips is as reflexive as breathing.

I stare at the man on stage. He’s imposing in his black tuxedo and absolute confidence. In the way he runs the bow back and forth over the strings. In the way he commands the instrument like the world-class musician he is.

I’m mesmerized. Stunned. Overwhelmed.

“Holden.” Tears well in my eyes but I’m afraid to take my eyes off of the man in front of me. I’m afraid if I do, he’ll disappear, and this will all be a dream. “It’s—it’s…”

“Clayton Seaburn,” he murmurs.

FIFTY-EIGHT