Van leaned down, purposely breathing warm gusts onto my neck and collarbone. His tone lowered another octave. “What thing?”
Closing my eyes, I shivered. When my eyes opened, my vision was filled with his emerald-green stare. I took a step back. “His eyes don’t have your gold flecks.”
Van’s head tilted. “What?”
“Phillip’s eyes. They don’t have gold flecks like yours. I noticed it in the car when I first got in with him. I thought maybe you were mad about your call.”
Van lowered his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry you even know he exists.”
I lifted my hands to his broad shoulders. “Van, I want to know aboutyou. Your twin is something about you. Your sister and your parents are about you.”
He shook his head.
“It doesn’t mean I want to meet them or see him again. I just want to know.”
“Go upstairs. I want you to get to know me better.”
My lips curled upward. “Is that possible?”
“We’ll find out.”
Letting go of his shoulders, I paused. “I’ve never been in your room.”
“Never? Even when I wasn’t home?”
“Never. I figured if you wanted me there, you’d say.”
The kitchen filled with a pop as Van uncorked the wine. Adding a wine stopper, he handed me the bottle and glasses. “I want you there. You know where it is.” His volume lowered. “I want you naked, on the bed, waiting for me.”
My breathing hitched.
It was crazy what Van could do to me with only words. In three phrases, my core dampened and twisted. “Will I still get my questions?”
“Give me my wish and you’ll get your questions.”
Julia
“It’s only a room,” I told myself as I turned left at the top of the stairs. To the right, Van was showing each man to his own room. I had a fleeting thought about what they would eat. After all, I had our wine and Van was bringing up a snack.
I had no idea how this would all work.
Would Paula be asked to cook more meals for our security team?
If Jonathon had been in charge before, would he now work with Michael and Albert?
Those concerns melted away as I opened one of the double doors to Van’s master suite. All the items from the trunk and those that had been delivered from the plane were piled just inside the door. The pile didn’t hold my attention as much as the room itself.
Setting the wine bottle and glasses on a small round table, I found myself drawn into Van’s private sanctuary. Much like the suite I’d been using, the first room was what I’d consider a small living area or study. This one also had a large built-in fireplace, but unlike mine, the woodwork was darker, a rich mahogany custom designed with ornate trim, a stark contrast to the light-colored walls. Two walls were filled with built-in shelving, primarily filled with books.
Even a quick peek let me know that these weren’t books simply placed for decoration. The shelves were lined with paperbacks and hardcovers alike in no particular order. Many of the spines were cracked. Pulling one book from a stack of trade paperbacks, I opened the cover, finding the dog-eared pages.
These books weren’t embellishments but rather books Van had read.
I ran my fingertips over the spines, reading titles I recognized and more I didn’t.
The leather furniture was comfortable and more worn than the furniture in my suite.
Feeling the soft grain, I wondered how much time he spent alone in here before I arrived. Margaret had mentioned that she and her mother worried about him being lonely.