Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
It’s not my place to snoop down there.
Yet ... the note has me turning the doorhandle.
It couldn’t hurt to have a quick look. I’ve found nothing else so far—if the basement is clear, then I’ll know the note was nothing and I can free my mind of it.
Feeling better about my logical plan, I twist the knob and walk down to the large basement.
The first thing I see is a massive wine cellar. The biggest I’ve ever seen. Walls and walls of wine bottles. I walk over, in complete awe, and pull out a bottle of wine that is over fifty years old. This is incredible. Large barrels are stacked in the corner and there is a beautiful light that automatically turns on when you walk in there, lighting up the spectacular space.
It’s stunning.
I keep walking around, letting my eyes scan over things a little more than I usually would. Guilt tugs at my chest, mostly because I’m letting my mind get the better of me and I’m looking into someone I don’t honestly believe has anything to do with this. Still, I won’t be able to stop thinking about it if I don’t just look and get it over with. So far, it’s a clean basement. Not a single thing lying around that would indicate anything is off here.
I walk past a pile of old boxes and something catches my eye in between two of them. I lean down, squinting, and shuffle the boxes apart just a little to get a better look. Someone has scratched the wall, deep penetrating scratches that can be seen by the naked eye standing up. I lean in closer, trying to get a better look without having to move the pile of boxes sitting in front of it. I can see a few letters, maybe even a date, but I can’t read what it says.
Dammit.
I glance behind me, and when I don’t see anyone, I very quickly move two of the boxes. They’re heavy and they hurt my very fragile body as I lift and move them. Then I lean in and pull out my phone, taking a quick snap of the writing on the wall. I don’t get a chance to read what it says, because I hear a noise above. Steven is coming. I stand, shoving my phone into my pocket and quickly lifting the boxes and placing them back before rushing back into the wine cellar.
Steven appears a moment later, and I pretend to be staring in awe at the wine once more.
“This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, acting as if him coming down here was zero surprise at all.
“You like wine?” he asks, seemingly unfazed that I’m down here.
If he was worried, he’d be upset. If he had something to hide, he’d be angry.
He’s neither of those things.
“To be honest, I’m not a huge fan, but this room ...”
“It’s my pride and joy,” he tells me with a smile. “I love coming down here. It’s my favorite place in this whole house.”
I turn to him and rub my stomach. “Something smells amazing.”
It really does, actually. The smell of garlic and something else fills my nose, and my stomach gurgles.
“Come, let me feed you.”
We walk upstairs and into the dining room where he has set out two plates of what looks like a delicious stir-fry. I take a seat and breathe in the incredible smell. “You cook too?” I laugh. “This looks amazing.”
“I don’t cook often,” he admits, flashing me a dazzling smile. “But, this is one dish I can get right. Teriyaki chicken stir-fry. I hope you like it.”
I put my fork in and take a mouthful of the delicious smelling food to find it’s equally as good as it smells. I moan and close my eyes, chewing. When I swallow my first bite, I open my eyes and look to him. He’s smiling at me, a gentle expression on his face. “That’s the best stir-fry I’ve tasted.”
“Thank you.”
We both eat in silence, and when we’re done, I help him clean up the dishes before heading out to my car to get home. He walks me out, and I thank him profusely for letting me come over tonight and learn so much from him.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Zariah. Thank you for your hard work.”
“Thank you for having me,” I beam. “It is such an honor.”
“It’s no trouble at all. You’re incredible to have around.”
Our eyes lock and, in that moment, I know he’s going to kiss me. There is an expression men get on their faces when they are ready to make a move. It’s like a soft, lusty, masculine look that screams their intentions. I take a staggered breath and tell myself to look away so he doesn’t get the wrong idea, but before I can do that, he’s leaning in toward me.