The Glass Secret (Chain of Secrets), page 29
When he smiled, his eyes darkened to velvet gray with flecks of light that twinkled like the Northern star.
I had become more and more enchanted by his charm as the seconds seem to fly by. A stranger, indeed, but I wanted that to change.
If he had chosen for me to do so, I would have followed him into an abyss of no return, as a slave girl would her master.
-48-
No Return...
He led me to the back of the store and down a seemingly endless corridor. The walls were painted black and heavily textured. It was very dark save for violet pin lights that hung down from the ceiling. The lights emphasized little strands of gray in his coal-black hair.
The further we walked I could feel the air shift to a cooler temperature.
Is he taking me to a place of no return? My pulse quickened, looking back over my shoulder every so often.
At the end of the corridor, I could see a large wooden door. With each step closer to it, my nerves grew with imminent anticipation. I felt the palm of my hand become moist against his hand. Surely he felt it, too. With every other step, he glanced back at me and slightly squeezed my hand in a comforting way.
When we reached the arched door, he slowly opened it and turned to his side, his back against the jam of the door. He raised his arm, still holding my hand as if we were in a dance.
I followed his lead and dipped below his arm as I entered the room. My eyes widened in awe. I looked around in mute amazement. The room was dimly lit with an array of candles. I had never seen so many lit in one place. It felt cozy, cool and damp all at once. I could hear the sound of running water in the distance.
“This place is beautiful. Where exactly are we?”
“It’s my private chamber.”
“Interesting name.” I flashed my eyes around making sure there weren’t any shackles attached to the walls, from previous visitors. No shackles, only exquisite oil paintings incased in glass and framed photography hung on the walls, amongst large potted plants.
“Your artwork is lovely and very impressive.”
“Thank you, they are just a handful of many other items I have collected through the years.”
“The photography is beautiful too...did you take them?”
“Yes.” He humbly admitted.
“Another hobby. You have a great eye. Very nice,” I said, scanning the pictures, wondering if this was what he wanted me to see. There were quite a few close-ups of different objects. My eyes continued to scan them all. I was particularly drawn to the one of a woman. She was dressed in a 1940’s outfit. Her face was obscured by a shadow. “Well, you couldn’t have taken this one. The woman in the photo—is she your mother when she was young?”
Rain simply said, “No. She is not.”
“Oh.” I winced. “Is she your grandmother?” There I was prying, again. I felt compelled to run my finger over the glass shadow box it was displayed in. When I touched it, a vibration radiated through my finger. It didn’t hurt, but felt odd like sticking your tongue on the end of a 9-volt battery.
When my little brother stuck his tongue out at me, I’d punish him by telling him there were magical powers in the end of the battery if he held it against his tongue. I think he liked the jolt it gave him, or the idea of gaining powers. Either way he’d fell for it every time. No wonder he has no feeling on the tip of his tongue to this day. Poor thing.
“Be careful, Brielle. The glass is thin. I wouldn’t want you to cut yourself.”
“Oh, yes of course.” I grimaced, stepping a few paces back from the photo.
“I have something over here I think you may find of interest. A friend of mine painted it.”
I supposed he was trying to get me to stop touching the glass. I should have known better. Rain guided me to stand in front of the piece he was eager to show me. Quickly I noticed the artist had dedicated it to him. On the plaque the dedication read...
To Rain...May all your wishes come true...
Your friend and confidant, Michael.
I raised my hand to my heart. “Rain, is this an original Michael Angelo?” What a silly question, of course it wasn’t.
“You could say that,” he said teasingly.
“Ah, your friend does an unbelievable rendition of Michael Angelo.” He really did.
“Yes. He’s very talented.”
“Yes, very.” I half-turned on my heels to perhaps retreat. “This place is exquisite. Thanks for sharing it.”
“I have found the chamber radiates a powerful energy.” He playfully tugged me back towards him. I hadn’t even realized we were holding hands.
“Yes, it does. But the name chamber sounds...well, kind of archaic. Like a place where a king would keep his prisoners.”
Rain exhaled a low hearty laugh. “Oh no. It just stands for a private room. Back in my day—”
“Back in your day?” I raised a brow, and giggled, “What, you’re maybe...what, thirty?”
“Oh thanks. Thirty...plus some. What I meant to say was, when I was growing up, my grandfather referred to the quiet little room tucked away in the back of his house, as his chamber. It was where he retreated to when he wanted to read, or just sit and think. So, I called this room that in honor of him. So my dear, there are no prisoners here. Don’t worry you are perfectly safe.” He flashed me a wink.
“Safe?” I questioned him. The word caused my heart to swell for a fraction of a second. God, what was I doing with this complete stranger?
“I sensed your hesitation when we first came in. If I had said dungeon instead of chamber...I could understand your trepidation.” He half-laughed, teasing me and squeezed my hand.
“Oh, yeah, I guess it did throw me for a second.” I giggled, brushing it off. “But no. Seriously. I feel totally safe.” I softly smiled, holding his gaze. “I can understand why you would want to spend your spare time here.”
“I discovered the tunnel years ago—which has since become the long hallway. The canyon is actually a part of the Montmartre Hillock. I’m assuming this was a hidden passage that was mined into the foothills...going as far back to 270 BC.”
“Wow, that’s incredible. I didn’t know that. But I have heard that this area of the city is dubbed the Hill of Martyrs.”
“That’s right. According to legend, the Mount of Martyrdom was an important rite of passage for Denis Saint, the first Bishop of Paris.” Rain cleared his throat. “Well, actually, Denis Saint would have been the Bishop if not for his execution.”
“This place must be haunted by all sorts of spirits. That could be sort of creepy, too.”
“Perhaps.” Rain’s smile turned downward, and his eyes shifted from mine.
“Are you okay?” I hoped that I hadn’t offended him.
“Yes, Brielle. I had hoped you wouldn’t be alarmed by the presence of spirits.
“Oh no. I’m really not...I figure, if their souls didn’t go to a better place, there’s a good reason for that, so we all have to survive here together. But I can say if I ever saw a ghost, plain and clear with my own eyes, I’d be scared out of my wits. The closest thing ghostly in my home is a 1930’s antique chair that I found. It’s made of clear plastic. That’s why it’s called a ‘Ghost’ chair. It’s really kind of neat.”
“Yes...I understand how you feel. Most people would feel that same way. Anyway thanks for letting me know.” His tone was dry; he almost sounded uninterested.
I shrugged and said, “Sure.” Then I saw that look again in Rain’s eyes, something sad, far away and contemplating. I wondered again if I had said something wrong? “Rain, I’m sure if there’s any spirits here they won’t mind what you have done. You have a great eye for beautiful things.
Rain’s smile returned in a flash. He ran his finger along the soft edge of my jaw-line. “Thank you, you are so beautiful and very sweet.”
“Oh thanks,” I quickly replied, rolling my eyes and blushing. I had a hard time accepting face-to-face compliments. “This place is so special, Rain. You must have put a lot of time into remodeling it,” I said, taking the limelight off of myself.
“Not too much. I knocked out a wall of rocks on the side that opened to the street.” He pointed to the remodeled area. “I did that in order to bring some sunlight in during the day. Then secured in the walls, and added plumbing, electricity, the floors and dressed it up some. There’s a tunnel in the far back that runs along the chamber that leads to an underground spring. I would love to take you there sometime.”
“Wow, it sounds fascinating. I would love to see it.”
“I would love that too. We can explore it one day together.”
“That would be so much fun. I can’t wait,” I beamed from ear to ear. The four-letter word, “love” was flying back and forth between us.
As we moved slowly into the chamber, one by one, a plethora of tiny lights twinkled like stars from above. They magically lit our path then faded away, only to reappear, lighting up another area as we walked deeper into the room.
“You did all of this?” I questioned.
“Yes...for atmosphere.” His lips curled upward in a sexy kind of way, and proud no doubt. His lips. How I wanted to kiss them. I imagined if he was this creative, how much more creative would he be with his lips.
“I feel as if I’m in another world,” I said, and Rain squeezed my hand, firmly.
This place felt like a dream manifesting before my eyes. It was as if we were on a stage. We were the stars and the lights magically knew our deliberate steps, and only allowed the audience to see us under the special spotlights.
I could barely see where the floor met the walls—if not for the oil paintings and trellises of large green leaves and tiny white flowers, I would have not known that walls even existed.
Through high windows of block glass, I could see that the sun had set. The pale light from the moon and the reflection of the outside lamppost cast shadows on the facade. The room was nearly vacant and ever so quiet, save for the sound of the crackling wood from the fireplace, which magnified the stillness.
Rain released my hand, allowing me to freely explore the enchanted chamber. Having previously studied modern dance, I decided to show him my amateur ballet skills.
When I took my first step, soft music began to play. It startled me for a moment. The irony was I knew the song. It was the same one I had performed to at my final dance recital in high school.
I slowly spun into the room, a few feet away from him. I became one with the beaded orbs of moisture that clung to the air. Spinning gracefully around in circles, I waved my arms through the streams of light, ever so delicately. His eyes followed as I frolicked about, seemingly on a cloud. He was my audience of one, and I was his private dancer. The expression on his face was one of admiration.
“Dance with me, I feel silly without a partner.”
“You are gorgeous...you belong on a stage.”
“Oh never...please, dance with me.”
The tiny lights captured the bright-colored beads of moisture as some of them melted into my bare arms and shoulders. I could feel the precipitation in the room taking revenge on my smooth hair, turning it into angelic ringlets, as it always does in humidity. Back to its natural state. With every pivot, my hair swung across my face like wheat blowing in the wind.
“My Lady...” He bowed.
“Salut, Sir...” I respond, and curtseyed, following in his lead.
“Would you give me the pleasure of this dance?”
“I would be honored to.” I giggled.
Rain shifted his stance, coming up from behind me, and in midair he took my hand and spun me around and around! For a moment, time fell away. Our eyes met on every turn. I tried to balance my racing heart, my thoughts, and my legs. It was a lot to do at once. His hands embraced my waist, causing me to lose my balance, and not from anything he had done. I fell back into his strong arms. When he captured me, time stood still or seemed as if it had. There I was practically horizontal in the perfect position for him to make a move.
He whispered, “You’re like a comet crashing into me, aren’t you?” he questioned, followed by a low husky laugh.
I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, slightly embarrassed. My moment in the spotlight had ended. He embraced me for only a fraction of a heartbeat although, in reality, it was only time enough for him to brush the hair from my eyes.
It all happened so fast. My feet left the ground. He lifted me with such ease, upward slightly, and put me back on my feet again. He held on to me until I regained my equilibrium. I could have played this one out a moment longer. I should have.
“A comet...I have never heard that before.” I admitted as I wrangled my fingers through my hair trying to tame the random strands that stuck to my flushed cheeks.
“Please, know it’s a compliment of the greatest kind.”
“Well, then, thank you. As long as I don’t catch you on fire though, right?” The question nonchalantly rolled off my tongue without thinking. But then again, I thought. That may not be so awful. As soon as the words spilled from my mouth I held my breath waiting for his response.
“Brielle, I would burn if it meant being closer to you.” His words were precise and serious.
Be still my beating heart. There was no mistaking what he had said, and meant. Suddenly, I questioned if I heard him correctly.
My mind felt as if it was playing tricks on me. Was he just great with comebacks, or did I set him up good? The most important question is, did he mean it, or was he just being cheeky?
His tone was very unreadable, likewise, so was his expression. He could have meant it as a total joke or in its literal meaning. I recalled my dad saying 50% of jokes are true. In a fraction of a second, I could have had many responses without thinking. You need to think Brielle! I scolded myself. I wanted to say “You look burning hot to me, already.”
I softly said, “Don’t worry, I would never burn you.”
God, that was so unoriginal and lame. Besides, I didn’t possess the power to burn him. He was the one in control with nerves of steel. Then again, maybe he wanted to burn for me. That was what he said.
Oh, forget it Brielle! Don’t over think this, or you’ll burn your own brain cells up.
“Brielle, I want to burn for you in all the ways you would want me to.” He placed both hands on my arms and just held them there. I inched in closer to him.
Did he just read my thoughts? Did he know I was brain fucking myself over every detail since I had met him. In shock, I had no response in the moment.
Rain stared intensely into my eyes, and his hands settled around my waistline. He leaned forward and lowered his head as if he were going to kiss me. His scent was intoxicating. My knees fell weak. Heat raced from his hands, penetrating through my body to my most private places. The goddess of love, Aphrodite was working her magic. I felt it the second I laid my eyes on him. Hopefully, his feelings were mutual.
Flustered and over stimulated by our closeness, I leaned slightly backward.
“I think I’m burning up right now.” I waved a hand at my over-heated face. Why did I stop him?
“You make me smile, Brielle. Your cheeks do seem a little pink. Maybe we should slow down a bit,” he said, pushing back from me, maintaining his confidence. Me, I wanted to kick myself in the ass. “So, tell me Brielle, what brought you to Paris?”
“I’m an author and I came to Paris to write.”
“How wonderful. What are you writing about?”
“Well, it’s nonfiction.”
“I would love to hear about it.”
“Okay...it’s a love story.” I turned to him and paused. That’s all I had at the time.
Rain nodded, “Those are some of the best stories.”
“Yes. That’s right. But this one is a complicated story.” I winced feeling flustered again.
“How so?” he asked. I was at a loss for words. I couldn’t tell him I was writing a novel about two real-life characters, and I didn’t even know their names.
“Hmm. Would you be terribly offended if I didn’t expose who they are right now? It’s kind of in the works, and well, you know, it’s confidential. All the legal things are being sorted out still,” I lied, losing my confidence.
“I am not offended at all. I’m sure you want to wait until the last brick is laid before you unveil your masterpiece.”
I half-laughed. “Yes...something like that.” I nodded.
“So, would you like to see what I have chosen for you?” he politely asked.
Back to business. Damn it.
His eyes traveled to my blouse, then back to my face. I flashed down at my breasts. The thin fabric of my top had absorbed the mist, revealing the outline of my bra.
My nips strained against the chill in the air. I bit my lower lip, bashfully, trying to hold my composure. Fidgeting and crisscrossed my arms over my chest, I was a damp mess, inside and out. His gaze could have been mistaken for as lewd, but I knew better. He was more than a perfect gentleman. After all, he was from a noble heritage; I assumed with a last name like de’ Bluche. I felt our time would come when it was right.
“Are you cold?”
“I guess I’m a little wet,” I said, pulling at my blouse. Immediately, I caught my sexual faux pas. I could feel my face turning shades of red. I tightened my arms in front of myself. Rain, being the perfect gentleman that he was, didn’t flinch nor did he comeback with an offhanded comment.
He slipped off his jacket and tenderly draped it around my shoulders. “This should take the chill off.” The jacket did the trick in warming my flesh, but inside I shivered vigorously.
“Thank you.” My teeth shattered.
“It’s my pleasure, Brielle.” Rain rubbed my outer shoulders trying to warm me. His eyes fell into mine for a quiet moment then kissed my forehead.
-49-
