Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Don’t tempt me,” she jokes as she slips inside first.
I follow. She closes the door behind us with a quiet click.
The room is dusty but quiet, and the air smells like the room hasn’t been aired out in decades.
It probably hasn’t, by the looks of things.
“What is this place?” I ask, running my fingers over the peeling wallpaper.
“It was added during Prohibition.” She drags her hand along a wood-paneled wall. “My great-grandfather used it to make and store bootleg booze. It’s been boarded up for decades, but I found the key in an old ledger.”
She glances back at me, eyes gleaming in the low light. “No one knows I come here.”
“You’re full of surprises, Little Bird.” I step closer.
Despite how small the room is, it’s still wide enough to hold a faded green velvet couch and a vintage record player perched on an old crate.
She walks over to the record player, gently dusting off the top with her sleeve.
“Does it work?” I lean over the crate beside her.
She glances over her shoulder, smiling. “Yeah, it still works. It’s just a little dusty.”
I nod toward it. “Then turn it on.”
She raises a brow, teasing, “You trying to dance with me?”
I shrug, stepping closer until our arms almost brush. “You trying to get out of it?”
She laughs under her breath, the sound warm and dangerous. Then she crouches beside the crate of vinyls.
“You realize I have to pick the right mood.” She flips through records. “Jazz? Blues? Cheesy ’60s love songs?”
“Surprise me,” I challenge, watching her.
She pulls out a vinyl, holds it up to the low light, then slips it from its sleeve.
She sets it on the turntable. The needle scratches before melting into a slow, old-school tune.
The soft tune settles over us in no time.
I hold out my hand, and she takes it, her fingers threading through mine.
We start to dance. If you can call it that.
It’s awkward at first.
Too close, then not close enough.
But somewhere between the second verse and the lazy sax solo, she sinks into me.
Her head finds my chest, and my hand slides to her lower back.
We move as one. Like the world outside this hidden room no longer exists.
“What happens in the fall?” I ask quietly, barely above the music.
She exhales.
The thought of her leaving physically pains me.
Fall isn’t that far away.
Fuck.
Just the thought of it makes me want to vomit.
She looks up at me then, like she already knows what I’m thinking. I feel like she always knows.
“It’s not that far,” she whispers. “A few hours, tops. We’ll make it work.”
I want to believe her. But my mother’s voice echoes in my head. You’re not a prince.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, tipping her chin up to study me.
I shake my head, forcing a small smile. “Nothing.”
She squints at me. “Liar.”
I just kiss her temple because it’s easier than explaining. Instead, the unspoken words settle in my chest.
We dance a little longer. She hums along to the music. Off-key but perfect.
Eventually, we collapse onto the couch..
“You planning anything big for school?” I ask, tilting my head toward her.
She shrugs, the movement brushing her shoulder against mine. “A few things. I want to intern at a paper. Maybe join a writing group. You?”
“Avoid jail,” I joke.
“That sounds perfect,” she giggles.
The record finishes its song, but neither of us moves to change it.
I let the moment take me in.
Because she’s next to me. And everything else can wait.
15
Victoria
The staff never speaks to me directly unless it’s to pass along something dumb. A menu change. Sometimes staffing issues, but that's about it.
So when Helen, one of the longtime housekeepers, stops me in the hall with her hands clutched tightly in front of her apron, my stomach goes cold.
“Your father wishes to see you in his office.” Her voice is tight, and it sounds almost scared.
I look down and see that her fingers twist the fabric. Yep. She’s terrified of my dad.
You and me both.
It would be great if we could both feign ignorance, and I can go about my day, like she didn’t just drop an explosive device on my lap. And by explosive device, I mean some annoying lecture by my father that I’m sure is about to come.
My mouth goes dry thinking about what he wants to talk to me about.
It’s not like his lecturing me isn’t a regular occurrence, but after last night, I’m worried.
The hidden room. The dancing. Falling asleep wrapped in Lorenzo.
He must know.
He has to know.
“Thank you.” I manage a nod.
Helen doesn’t meet my eyes. Instead, she turns and hurries back the way she came.
The hallway shifts as I walk, my balance off because I’m so nervous.
Up ahead, I see the closed door. I don’t want to go in, but I have no choice.
Taking a breath, I then knock.
“Come in,” he calls, his voice as sharp as a blade.