4
Skye
We’re in the elevator before I can blink, my fingers tightly clenched in his. Our palms rub together, and the friction makes that tingling between my legs spark up again.
Jared’s gaze stays on me the whole time. I can’t stop from blushing at the feral hunger in his eyes.
The doors ping open and he gestures me out.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Penthouse Two, my second residence. We’ll explore the other residences another time, but I wanted to show you this one today.”
Curiosity wins over nerves and I step out.
Into a hallway that’s as different from the one we’ve just come from as night from day. The walls are duck-egg blue with majestic arches and period paintings.
Every room is decked out in old-world European elegance. Italian? Possibly French. I’m struggling to take it all in when Jared nudges me into a room.
And I fall in love.
There are no other words to appropriately describe it.
It’s a ballroom, complete with murals on the ceilings, stunning chandeliers and polished hardwood floors.
The entire inner wall is one giant gilded mirror complete with elegant scrollwork. The outer windows are just as drapeless as the upstairs penthouse windows, but these ones are arched and scrolled in gold to match the decor.
It’s like something out of a fairy tale and my mouth gapes as I spin in a circle. “Oh, my God.”
“You like it?” Jared asks.
I face him and there’s a look in his eyes, a touch of vulnerability that makes my stupid chest squeeze again. I nod, because I can’t lie. This is a room taken straight out of my dreams. “I love it. It’samazing.”
He does that caressing thing with his knuckles over my cheek again. “Good. Good. I hoped you would.”
I gasp. “Youhoped…you had this done…for me?”
“Hmm,” he half-growls and he glances away, as if he doesn’t want me to read his expression. “Do you ever dance in those flats?” he asks without looking at me.
I frown down at my feet. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.” He reaches into his pocket for his phone. He rasps a torrent of French—I assume to one of the housekeepers—and ends the call. “While we wait, we’ll go through the rules. I’m sure you’ve noticed the security I have up here. Tell me you won’t disappoint me by doing anything stupid like your father and attempt to run?” he bites out.
“You’ve already told me you and, I presume, your guards have been watching my every move. Most of the rooms in this place have cameras and all the outer doors require a handprint and biometric eye scan to access them. How am I going to get out?” I snap.
A shadow of a smile twitches his lips. “As long as we’re on the same page.”
We’re not. He’s forcing me to be his captive until he finds my father. But telling him that will just prolong the inevitable. And risk him getting pissed off again.
That hint of a smile intrigued me. It certainly stoked the strange fire building inside me, ignited a yearning to see more of it.
But I sense movement and spot Noelle standing in the doorway, my pointe shoes clutched in her hands.
She hands them to Jared and shuts the door.
The intense look is back when he holds them out to me. “Dance for me.”
Self-consciousness swallows me whole.