As Ian started to walk away with the other two pairs, I stopped him.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Do you have any idea what time Mr. Ramses is coming for me?”
“He usually dines close to eight in the evening. If I hear any differently, I’ll knock.”
Exhaling, I looked down at the blue dress and shoes, and back to Ian. “Thank you.”
“Yes, Miss North. I’m right outside.”
As the door shut, I thought of how boring it must be to watch the outside of my door, the hallway, and the stairs. Even so, I didn’t hate that Ian was there. I was in a strange house, an alternate universe, and yet I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t sure if it was the uncertainty or the warnings Rett told me about impending danger or everything in general. I couldn’t deny that the things Rett said about his father and the Boudreaux had my nerves tied up in tangles. What I couldn’t decide was if that was one knot or part of a larger cluster.
Going to the library, I looked at the computer screen. Ian had said eight o’clock. My plan was to be ready at seven. In my strife for survival, I also decided to make short-term goals. Rett had promised dinner in a courtyard. I would be ready because even though I could see stars beyond the skylight, in a courtyard they wouldn’t be confined to a rectangle. In that courtyard, I could experience the warm air, trees blowing in the breeze, and the allure of the outside.
Emma
The sound of the door opening echoed from the main room. There hadn’t been a knock as Ian had done throughout the day, but even from the library, I was confident of what I’d heard. The sound washed over me in a wave filled with both anxiety and relief.
Was that possible for one action to do both?
Anxiety was for the unknown. Relief caught me a bit by surprise.
Had I feared Rett wouldn’t come or he’d forget his promise to dine?
Straightening my neck and shoulders, I scooted my feet away from the desk. The nude heels I wore clicked on the hardwood floor. Standing, I took one last look at the screen with the words and essence that I’d tried to compose.
The writing would wait.
Something told me that waiting wasn’t one of Everett Ramses’s strong suits.
I closed the laptop’s screen and inhaled, causing the bodice of the blue dress to pull tight over my breasts. The style didn’t allow for a bra, and I’d already discovered other underclothes weren’t present. Smoothing the front of the dress, I glanced toward the window.
While it was still blocked by the shutters, in its current state, the glass had been transformed into a mirror. One quick look told me I was as ready as I would be. I was more prepared than I’d been when I was ambushed at the restaurant and also when I was awakened earlier in the day.
My makeup was appropriate for a night out, even if that only meant out of my suite. My long blonde hair was twisted behind my head. The humidity helped create the small curls dangling near my face and on my neck. I wore a pair of earrings Ian had delivered when he confirmed the time of Rett’s arrival. Based on the size and despite the clarity, I assumed they were high-quality cubic zirconia.
Stepping to the doorway between the library and bedroom, my hand lingered on the doorjamb as Rett’s dark eyes met mine, and my breath caught. Without thinking, my cheeks rose as I curled my painted lips. My expression wasn’t brought on singularly by the sight of the man walking toward me, although I had to admit, Rett looked exceptionally handsome. The smile came because it appeared that I wasn’t the only one who’d built this evening up to be a date.
It seemed that Rett had too.
He was no longer dressed in the blue jeans as he’d been earlier. Scanning from his combed-back dark hair to his leather shoes, I marveled at the sight of his clean-shaven cheeks, the definition of his chiseled jaw, and breadth of his wide shoulders. Rett’s dark gray suit fit him to a tee. The jacket tapered in a V-shape, accentuating his toned torso. Beneath the jacket was a black shirt and a blue tie. It seemed that either Rett was in tune with the New Orleans spirits to predict the color of my dress, or more plausibly, Ian had passed on the information.
As I continued my scan down his gray pants and long legs, my lip slipped momentarily between my teeth as I entertained the fleeting memory of his erection prodding my stomach. In that second, warmth filled my cheeks.
As Rett neared, the rich, spicy aroma of his cologne mingled with the light, sweet scent of my perfume. My chin rose to keep my gaze on his as he came to a stop inches away. Taking a slight step back, he did as I had and scanned me from the tips of my shoes to the top of my twisted hair. Once the process was complete, his gaze lowered, momentarily settling upon the bodice.
When his dark brown eyes again found mine, he smiled. “You’re stunning, Emma.”
I’d received compliments from men in my life. The father who raised me was generous with praises. Men I’d dated were also complimentary, and yet there was something about hearing those words from Rett that twisted my already-tangled insides. “Thank you. You’re very handsome.”
Turning slightly, Rett offered me his arm. “Join me for dinner.”
It wasn’t a question. He’d told me that he’d come for me. Nevertheless, the illusion of a date helped ease some of our earlier tension. “Yes, thank you.” I placed my hand on his sleeve. With his hand covering mine, we stepped across the room.
As we approached the door, Rett slowed. “Before we go farther...” He reached into the pocket of his jacket, shattering the illusion as he showed me a blindfold.
No longer gleeful, I felt my skin chill. “Why?”