“Okay.”
And that she did. A grand tour of every inch of their home. There were three floors. The bedrooms were all located on the middle floor. The kitchen, a formal dining room, and family rooms were located on the first.
“I think you’ll like this space the most,” she said, leading me to the third floor. “There are only two rooms up here.” She opened the door to the largest in-home library I had ever seen. Rows and rows of books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. I stood in awe, my mouth hanging open.
“Oh, I didn’t think you’d have this reaction. You must love books.” She laughed. It was a beautiful sound. “This is my husband’s domain. If ever you need to find him, he’ll be here. These are his babies.” She waved her hand around.
“This is magnificent. The smell alone is incredible.” I took deep, even breaths as the scent of leather and books permeated the room.
A pair of antique desks flanked opposite walls, both worn smooth by use, each with a matching high-backed chair. A massive, overstuffed couch faced the hearth, and tucked in the corner was a cozy little reading nook draped in sunlight.
But it was the fireplace that stole my breath. It was wide enough for four people to stand shoulder to shoulder, with stonework that looked hand-chiseled and older than the house itself.
Above the fireplace hung a family portrait, and there she was. My breath caught in my throat. I drew closer to the painting. In the back, standing behind the four children, were Mr. and Mrs. King. Alek and Nik stood in front of Mr. King, while Vanya and Ivan stood in front of their mother.
It must have been taken shortly before the assault because she looked young and so happy in the painting. She was beautiful, with long black hair like her mother and the same oceanic blue-green eyes my beloved had. I was lost in her image; her elegant dress and perfectly coiffed hair made her look sophisticated, and the slight gleam in her eyes matched Nik’s when he was being wicked.
“That’s my Vanya.” Their mother’s voice trembled behind me, and I turned around; her eyes had filled with tears.
“Alek told me a little about her. She’s the spitting image of you. Beautiful and…and…I’m so sorry.” My eyes filled with tears too, but she patted my hand and blinked hers back.
“I miss her every day of my life, but I’ve come far. It doesn’t hurt as much to talk about her. I focus on the wonderful memories we shared as a family.” She took a deep breath to refocus. “Now, as far as the library goes, I’ll let Christopher give you the official rules of the place. He’ll be quite thrilled with your reaction. Now come, the room I thought you would like the most is actually across the hall,” she said as I stared around.
I was trying to catch the titles of some of the books and didn’t want to leave. No, I wanted to stay and study the picture as well. This room was everything. But for now, I followed her across the hall and gasped as she opened the door. Stepping inside it was like a dream. It was magnificent. Something you saw in movies and period pieces. A Venetian-style ballroom.
I stood in awe of the space, trying to take in every single detail. Walking toward one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, I noticed a beautiful garden below. The room ran the entire length of the house. It had ceilings at least twenty feet high. Six chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the fabrics were all done in a golden hue. The beautiful hardwood floor shone. A piano and a few other instruments sat on the stage.
“This is beyond words.” My voice floated, light and airy, as visions of lavish parties filled my mind—women in sweeping gowns, men dressed like kings, glidingacross polished floors beneath glittering lights. In my head, I could hear a band playing and see the dancers on the floor.
“I thought maybe you and your dance partner could practice up here.” She watched me closely.
I wanted to hug her but refrained and showed my appreciation by squealing like a little girl. And if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, I began twirling in my excitement. Genuine laughter rang out as she watched me, and I finally collected myself and hurried back to her, blushing at how silly I must’ve looked.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, smoothing my hair. “This is quite a room, Mrs. King.”
“Please, call me Sophia, dear. Now, how about you and I get something to eat and get more acquainted?”
“Yes, of course,” I said as my nerves returned. My phone pinged; she raised an eyebrow. I had set it down by the door and wanted to rush over and silence it as it pinged two more times.
“Do you need to get that?”
“If I don’t, he’ll keep texting and then eventually call.” I slapped my hand over my mouth, but she laughed once more.
“Better get it, then,” she said. I walked over and checked my phone, reading his last message first.
REAPER:
What are you doing that you can’t answer me back? Don’t make me call.
KINSLEY:
I’m a little busy with your mother. Cut me some slack, Reaper.
REAPER:
Sorry. Just worried is all. Get back to bonding, then.
KINSLEY:
