THE NIGHT WE FORGOT

CHAPTER TWO

Emilia’s POV

His voice.

It was the darkest I’d ever heard, as if warring with the lights spilling into the room. I tried to push down the knot that had worked its way to my throat, to do something other than stand there foolishly, with my back turned to him and my hand still on the spine of the book.

The room seemed to quiver. Nothing moved.

But I knew he was still in there, with me. I could feel his presence in every corner, the air suddenly thick with the awareness of him. I swallowed again and pulled my hand back.

I should run. I thought about it a million times, as my feet turned around, as I found his face in the dark. He was staring at me like I was the only thing out of place in the room.

And I knew I was.

“I’m…”

He took a step forward, slow but deliberate. And that was when I saw him.

The warm lights from the hallway shone on his alabaster skin, half of it inked with intricate drawings. It was rude and impolite to stare. Still, I couldn’t help it.

Nothing seemed to make sense in those split seconds, as my lips parted slightly open on their own accord, as my eyes dropped low, taking in the curves, the lines, the highs. My fingers itched with the strange urge to trace the patterns, to know where they led to.

My eyes reached the jeans hanging low on his waist, and involuntarily, I took a slow step back. A yelp escaped my lips when my back hit the bookshelf. The sound travelled around the room, returning to me.

Heat caressed my cheeks. I tried to look away again, but he was still there, watching me with an unreadable expression, piercing green eyes staring into my soul.

I needed him to say something. Hell, I needed to say something.

But my tongue had glued itself to the roof of my mouth, unwilling to budge. My feet shuffled on the rug as I leaned away from the shelf.

“I…”

“Three minutes.”

I swallowed again, my lips quivering slightly. “What?” My voice was barely a whisper. It made him narrow his gaze, made those green eyes stray slightly, dancing just underneath my nose before reaching my eyes again.

“That was how long I gave you to answer my question.”

I loved to think that I was the smartest kid in Illinois, but that didn’t look like much right now, because I couldn’t remember what he’d asked me. All that coursed through me was my blood humming, as if suddenly made alive.

And my pulse, racing underneath my skin.

I needed water. My throat was parched.

“You have a nice book collection?”

God! That was the dumbest thing to say, and I saw that in his eyes. “That didn’t give you the permission to waltz in here.”

Nothing changed in his tone. Not the way he pronounced every word as if he took his time talking. Not the way the words clung to the air, as if they meant more than they did.

When I didn’t speak, he took a slow step forward, moving away from the light. Studs glinted from his ears, but that wasn’t what made my eyes jerk to the door. It was his scent.

It reminded me of the beach on a rainy day. That compelling scent and feel just before the rain hit the earth. When the clouds gathered in the sky, alerting everyone to their impending doom.

Or bliss.

Depending on the way it was received.

But right now, I didn’t know how to take this one. He seemed oblivious to my heart thudding so hard against my chest as he reached beside my head, pulling out a single book.

My eyes searched his face when he brought it to himself. His eyes scanned the title before he tossed it to the bed that I hadn’t noticed the first time.

Tess of the d’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy.

“You are still here.”

“Right,” I murmured, my tongue finally deciding to work. I moved away from the shelf. It was difficult running in these heels. And it was strange that my legs felt like jelly underneath me. Still, I pushed forward, my hands on the door when he turned around to watch me.

He didn’t say anything, but I found myself halting. Waiting.

Listening.

“Tell the rest of them to pack up and get the hell out of my house. The summer break is over.”

I turned around then, my eyes wide with the sudden realization. “You are the arts collector. I thought… we were told you weren’t returning until tomorrow.”

He arched a brow. “You can talk.”

Turning back was a mistake. Now all I could think about was how he looked like Hardin Scott from the After series. Only that he was taller, bigger, seemingly older, and hotter.

“Mr….” I paused then, realizing I didn’t know his name. “I didn’t mean to come in here. I should have…”

“Should have what?”

I looked down at my shoes. “Stuck to the rules and avoided the rooms.”

I heard him move; I felt him when he stopped in front of me. “Do you know what I hate the most? It is when people do not know when to listen to instructions and f*****g stick to them.”

I looked up into his eyes. He didn’t seem angry. More like sad. And for some reason, I didn’t think he was talking about this situation. There was something else…something I couldn’t place my fingers on.

He held the door ajar. “Deliver my message to the group, and ask Miss Ashley to prepare for a meeting with her school. I am calling this in.”

“Mr…”

“Get out.”

“I didn’t mean to do this. Really.”

“Don’t make me call security on you.”

I stepped out into the hallway, half expecting him to slam the door in my face. Yet, he stood there, a muscle working in his jaw. I should have felt angry, embarrassed…anything but this strange warmth coursing through me.

I heard footsteps in the hallway, and angled my head slightly.

Standing right by my side was the most beautiful kid I’d ever seen. And for a fraction of a second, I thought I’d seen her somewhere.