Knight (Unfinished Hero #1)(4)

I pulled in breath and walked to the coats. Doing a knees closed squat, I held my cell and purse in one hand and pawed through the coats with my other one. Finding mine, I yanked it out and straightened. I did this with my eyes aimed down the hall but unfocused. Then they focused when I spied the shiny silver, thin, curving, unbelievably cool cordless phone in a black dome base sitting on the nightstand in the bedroom.

That phone was the means to a taxi. One without having to ask someone in the living room if I could use their phone, interrupting Sandrine and Nick again or hoofing it on the sidewalk in hopes I’d find a payphone then standing outside in the cold to wait.

Excellent.

I carefully skirted the coats, having to step on some as it was impossible to move around them without doing this, and walked into the bedroom to the phone. I didn’t look around even though I wanted to take a closer look. I wanted more to get the heck out of there.

I picked up the phone from its base thinking the same thing I thought the first time I walked into that room. The room smelled odd. An attractive blend of some heady masculine aftershave or cologne and cigarette smoke. Yes, cigarette smoke. But it blended strangely well together making the room seem wicked but in a good way. Now, the cigarette smoke was the stronger of the two when before it was the aftershave/cologne smell and this was less attractive but more wicked.

I thanked the powers that be that taxis, something I rarely took because I could rarely afford them, had their numbers emblazoned on all their cars and had dialed in the four and one of the four, one, two, four, one, two, four number when I heard a low, smooth, very deep, definitely annoyed man’s voice asking, “What the f**k?”

My head swiveled and I froze in mid-dial.

The tall man with dark, disheveled, longish hair and freakishly masculine, markedly attractive features was standing in one of the two sets the arched French doors that led to the balcony across the room. He was smoking, he’d lost his overcoat and I saw he was wearing a deep lilac, slim-fit tailored shirt that showed he not only was tall but broad, lean and had a torso unmistakably packed with power,

Oh, and he was pissed.

Oh my.

And.

Oh crap.

“Uh…” I mumbled then mumbled no more as he swiftly knifed sideways, clearly to stub out his cigarette then his angry, dark gaze sliced back to me as his long legs started bringing him to me.

Crap!

“You got a cell in your hand,” he informed me. “You need to hit my room and my phone?” he asked.

Yes.

Pissed.

“Uh…”

He was moving across the room so I again shut up.

This room, too, had a sunken level. The large bed was on the normal level and it was covered with a black satin comforter (yes, satin) with black satin cases on the pillows (satin!) which meant satin sheets. The black lacquered headboard was very tall, as tall as me. The footboard was at least half a person high. The head of the bed was flanked with two black lacquered nightstands that were elegantly shaped and topped with lamps with slim, glossy black bottoms and wide but squat ivory shades. The bed was sitting on an ivory rug that had a slender black border edged in a thicker ivory.

The same rug was in the sunken area that also held an ivory, sweep-lined couch tumbled with black toss pillows and an equally sweep-lined black armchair with ivory toss pillows that had a matching ottoman. There was also an oval, black lacquered coffee table down there and tall, now illuminated floor lamps flanking the couch that coordinated with the lamps on the nightstands.

Up three steps was another area with a matching but narrow rug that looked made to fit the space. On either end were identical, tall, black lacquered chests of drawers topped with bigger lamps with wider bases but like the floor lamps they somewhat matched the ones on the nightstands.

All the lights were turned on including the three overhead ones which had stunning arrays of pinned but dangling crystals covering them.

And last, there were three doors along the wall. Two closed. One opened though not lit but I could still see it was a bathroom.

I took all this in distractedly because he was making his way to me and I was paralyzed.

He was moving up the steps closest to me as he called, his eyes slightly narrowing, “Hello? Are you breathing?”

“I thought this was Nick’s room,” I blurted and he stopped suddenly by the footboard of the bed.

“It’s not,” he ground out.

Yep. Totally. Pissed.

And yep.

Totally.

Scary.

Terrifying.

Utterly.

“I need to go home,” I whispered. “I came in a taxi and I need to call one to take me home. My cell, it’s acting up. It doesn’t hold a charge for more than an hour. It’s dead. I should have known. I didn’t think. But I came here with my girlfriend so I guess I thought she could call. She’s staying though. And I put my coat in here and I thought it was Nick’s room seeing as he told us to put our coats in here. I just thought I’d use your phone real quick and get a taxi. I’m so sorry. I had no idea this wasn’t Nick’s room and I was intruding. Truly. I’m very sorry.”

I stopped talking and he stared at me.

It was then I saw his eyes were blue. A strange, startling, dark, vibrant, Prussian blue.

And they were beautiful, the color, the shape, the long, curving lashes.

My breath stuck in my throat.