Opaque Melodies (Coveting Delirium Book 1) Page 4

  On the bathroom counter, a basket loaded with bodywash, toothpaste, and lotions sat between the double sinks. As I selected one that was Cherry-blossom scented, I wondered if Meg had used this same brand. It was a trivial piece of information to know, but still more than I knew now.

  Thinking about it, I had almost little to no personal details about who Meg was at all. She was essentially a stranger. I knew the the truth of our upbringing but disclosing that to someone would surely piss off the man who fathered me. He hadn’t spent years throwing hush money at his dirty deeds just for me to rip open the door that was preventing his skeletons from spilling out.

  Depending on how much Alaric knew about his wife the truth could do him more harm than good.

  Like Chloe had said, Meg was gone. All I could do was carry on, which meant spending these couple days trying to make amends for never being there for her, never taking the time to get to know who she was.

  I showered quickly, slapping on some lip-gloss and mascara after I brushed out my hair. Back in the bedroom with the towel wrapped tight around my naked body, I dug through my suitcase in search of something comfy, but decent.

  I decided on a pair of black jegging capris and a soft plaid button down, adding a tank-top beneath it. Not bothering with shoes, I left the illusion of safety behind and went to find my new brother-in-law.

  It wasn’t too hard of a task. I simply followed the aroma of food. My stomach knew exactly where to go.

  I located him in the kitchen that looked as if it’d come straight out of an HGTV magazine spread. He was standing in front of a flat-ranged stove.

  “Feel better?” he asked without turning around, his sole focus on whatever it was he was stirring within a large metal pot. I wavered briefly, wondering how he knew I’d just entered the room when I hadn’t made a sound.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Are you hungry?” He stepped away from the stove and turned to face me. His eyes swept over my body from head to toe before settling on my face, a partial smile curving his lips. “I’m starving.”

  Trying not to read too much into the way his gaze seemed to flicker to my mouth, I walked closer to the stove.

  “What are you making?”

  “Shrimp Fra Diavolo.”

  “I have no idea what that is, but it smells amazing.”

  “It tastes even better,” he remarked, sounding quite proud of himself.

  “Do you need help with anything?”

  “Can you chop the vegetables for the salad?”

  “I think I can handle that,” I replied, offering him a genuine smile.

  “I’ll leave it to you then.” He gestured to the center island where a cutting board, knife, and freshly washed veggies already sat.

  Readily accepting the temporary distraction, I got to work while Alaric returned his attention to the pots on the burners.

  The silence that descended between us was a welcome buffer. I had the social skills of a rock. I didn’t want to force an awkward conversation.

  As I cut everything up and made neatly organized piles, my eyes wandered to a door to the right of the fridge. Had it been the same as the one on the other side of his kitchen I wouldn’t have been inclined to know what was behind it.

  A square shaped device that resembled a newer thermostat was affixed to the wall beside it. Don’t ask, a small voice whispered in the back of my head, but my curiosity got the better of me.

  “Is that a freezer or something?”

  Alaric glanced over his shoulder, then followed my stare. “That leads to the basement.”

  “Oh. I didn’t think houses in Cali had basements.”

  “They’re scarce. I included one in my floor plans. I like to work in total seclusion. I concentrate better.”

  “Um…what is it you do? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Even if I did mind, you just asked.”

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized, busying myself with the remaining vegetables.

  His soft laugh had me looking up again. “That was a joke. Not a good one apparently. You’re allowed to ask me questions Catalina. That’s part of getting to know someone.”

  “I didn’t realize that’s what we were doing,” I muttered, regretting the words as soon as they fell from my mouth.

  Alaric tilted his head to the side and regarded me for a moment, his smile remaining. “Are you always like this?”

  “I’m sorry,” I stressed.

  “Catalina,” he said my name in the same way he had the night we spoke on the phone, walking over to where I was standing with the swagger of someone who had all the confidence in the world.

  Fingers wrapped around my wrist and applied a slight amount of pressure. “Relax,” he commanded, his tone dipping into the realm of harsh.

  He nodded, and I glanced down to find I was gripping the cutting knife so tightly my knuckles had gone white. I released it immediately, grimacing when the handle collided with the cutting board.

  I tucked my chin to my chest as heat bloomed in my cheeks. Not even twenty-four hours in and I was humiliating myself.

  “I suck at things like this. I told my mom I wanted to stay at a hotel for this exact reason.”

  “Hey,” he called softly, tugging my gaze back to his with an invisible string. He stared at me from beneath thick, dark lashes, the blue of his eyes an electric jolt to my system. The notes of his cologne overpowered the aroma permeating the air.

  “It’s alright,” he soothed. “Besides, I think you did just fine.” He aimed a pointed stare at the cut-up vegetables.

  I fought against a smile and failed. I appreciated him trying to make light of the situation. Suddenly realizing how close we were, I diverted my gaze and pulled away from him.

  “What do I do now?” I asked, desperately needing another distraction and space between us.

  “How about you just set the table?”

  Anxiety had me by the throat while nerves weighed down my tongue.

  In my twenty-four years of life, I had never once sat across from a man and dined with him. I kept telling myself this was no big deal. I needed to get my shit together.

  The atmosphere wasn’t anything special. Alaric hadn’t dimmed the lights or lit the fancy candles expertly placed atop his large dining room table.

  He’d even given me a wide berth as if he sensed I needed space from him, kindly serving me without complaint.

  My issues had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me.

  I gnawed my lower lip, unsure how to start up a conversation or what topic to discuss. Should I bring up Meg, or would he? I was saved from the dilemma when he broke the silence.

  “I take it you like the food?”

  Was this a serious question? The meal tasted as amazing as it smelled.

  “That’s a bit rhetorical. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t be eating it.”

  “And here I was thinking you were keeping silent to spare my feelings.”

  I stabbed another piece of shrimp and wrapped it in pasta. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because when someone wants something from me, they have interesting ways of trying to get it.”

  “I don’t…I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Don’t you?”

  He propped his elbows on the table and stared at me intently, keeping his thoughts well-guarded and face void of emotion.

  “No.” I sat my fork down and reached for the cloth napkin beside my salad bowl. I wasn’t sure where this had come from, but I didn’t appreciate it.

  “What do you think I want? I don’t even know you. I’m here because of my sister.”

  No reply came forth, he continued to study me. His heavy gaze kept me chained to the chair, causing a prickling sensation to begin moving up the back of my neck.

  “Wine,” he said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Would you like some wine?” He pushed his chair back and stood.

  “I can’t—I’m not supposed to…�
�� I shook my head with a sigh. “Sure.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Alcohol wouldn’t do me any favors and I wasn’t supposed to mix it with my medication, but I needed something. I didn’t see the harm in having one glass before retreating to the confines of the guest room.

  I watched him leave the room, my posture slumping as soon as he was gone. I could feel the beginning of a headache coming on. The fluidity in which Alaric went from charming and disarming to intimidating and cold from threw me off kilter.

  I was flustered--completely out of my depth. I had no experience dealing with someone like him. Had it not been for this unusual circumstance I doubted I’d ever meet anyone remotely similar.

  He returned with two glasses in each hand, reclaiming the high-backed chair across from me.

  “Here you go.”

  As I accepted, I realized that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Meg had been gone less than two weeks, why would he have taken it off so soon? I thanked him for the wine and took a generous sip, trying to gather my thoughts.

  A bitterly sweet taste exploded on my tongue. I could easily of downed an entire bottle of whatever red this was. I took one more sip, using it to dredge up the nerve for my question.

  “How did my sister die?”

  “I was wondering how long it was going to take you to ask me that,” Alaric answered without hesitation. “Megan was sick. For quite some time.”

  His vocal inflection didn’t change, but the last part of his sentence felt like a direct jab.

  “She told me she was getting better.” Hearing the defensiveness in my tone I gripped the entire top part of the glass instead of the stem.

  “Megan told people a lot of things.”

  “Meaning?”

  With a sigh that I perceived as him being annoyed by my line of questioning or not ready for it, he pushed his dish away and leaned back. “It means what it exactly what it sounds like. Things with your sister were never black and white. Anything she said was either the truth or an elaborate lie.”

  “And you?” I shot back.

  “What about me?”

  “Are you an elaborate lie?”

  He angled his head to the side, contemplating me with undeniable scrutiny. “What do you think?”

  “Not a fair question. I don’t know you personally.”

  “I’ll make sure that changes.”

  His words rang with a promise, carrying a hint of darkness that needled something inside me that was unsettling.

  With no response in my arsenal and my mouth suddenly feeling dry, I diverted my gaze and took yet another sip of wine.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  My mind was blank.

  A sort of fuzziness came rushing at me hot on the heels of a pounding headache. With a groan, I peeled my eyes open, finding myself facing an unfamiliar wall.

  “Catalina?” A deep timbred voice called to me from the other side of a door. Upon hearing it, all the memories from the day before returned to me.

  I sat up abruptly, cursing myself for drinking as much as I had.

  “Yes?” I replied, cringing at the croaking sound that came from my throat.

  The door swung open to reveal Alaric, dressed today in a navy button down and black slacks. His hair was damp, the brown strands darker because of it. He was disturbingly stunning.

  “I didn’t want to wake you, but I wanted to show you your sister’s things before heading out for the day.” His icy gaze drifted down my body, pausing at my breasts.

  Feeling my nipples press against the fabric of my tank top, I realized I wasn’t wearing a bra. Feeling self-conscious, I crossed my arms and searched the floor, seeing no signs of it. I didn’t remember taking it off. I couldn’t remember coming to bed at all.

  This was what I got for drinking. I doubted I’d even taken my medication.

  “Did you lose something?”

  I stilled, returning my attention to the man lingering in the doorway.

  “Uh, nothing important.” No way in hell was I going to mention my missing bra or the fact I had no clue how it ended up that way.

  “Okay, well, I’ve got coffee on. Come grab a cup when you’re ready.” He began to close the door, offering a smile that had his sexy dimple surfacing.

  The second he was gone I dropped my forehead to the palm of my hand and massaged my temples. No more wine. Ever. I should’ve known better. I was the ultimate lightweight and it didn’t taste good enough to feel like this after consuming it.

  Spotting my cell on the nightstand, I tapped the screen to see what time it was, getting nothing.

  It’d run out of juice. I put it back down, simultaneously tossing the comforter off me. I was struck by an overwhelming urge to relieve my bladder. I searched the floor for my bra as I walked to the bathroom. Where the heck was it?

  I hobbled to the toilet. Pulling the door open, I spotted the silken garment on the floor. I still didn’t remember taking it off, but it was easy to imagine me doing so in a drunken haze.

  I scooped it up, thumbing the cups as I did my business. Remembering Alaric said he had to be somewhere, I decided to skip a shower for now. I brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth, doing a quick wash of my face.

  Back in the room, I grabbed my charger and a simple white t-shirt from my suitcase. I left my cell to charge, pulling the shirt over my tank. It was see-through, but thick enough to conceal my nipples.

  I found Alaric exactly where he said he’d be, in the kitchen. He was leaning over the island, a cup of coffee in front of him, immersed in the screen of his cellphone.

  “Help yourself,” he said, sparing me a quick glance. “I left a mug out for you.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, wandering over to his coffee machine, which looked like some next level device. There were buttons, knobs, and two separate compartments. This all seemed extra to me.

  Coffee was coffee.

  I lifted the pot and poured the steaming liquid into the white mug he’d taken out, examining the logo that was on both the front and back of it.

  “Dream Garden?” I read aloud, taking notice of the stethoscope that curved around the last two letters. Why did something about this sound familiar?

  “The name of my family’s practice.”

  I replaced the pot in its chamber, then twisted to look at him. “Practice?”

  He regarded me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Your sister didn’t tell you much about me, did she?” With a slow shake of his head, he lifted his coffee and took a sip. “My family owns a chain of private clinics. You may have read about it online; we’ve been growing rapidly. It’s also where I work.”

  “You’re a doctor?”

  “Surgeon,” he corrected.

  I was a tad surprised, but not sure why. This made a ridiculous amount of sense. My sperm donor had made all his money investing and backing the medical field. I wondered how close Alaric was to him, how well they knew one another. After all, he was his son-in-law. I was tempted to ask but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

  “You must be some surgeon.” I gestured in a circular motion, indicating his house.

  “I’m pretty skilled with my hands.”

  His words could be misconstrued as a double entendre. My lips parted slightly and a flush spread from my cheeks to my neck. I turned away and reached for the sugar, feeling his stare burning into the back of my head.

  “It’s also why I don’t wear a wedding ring.”

  “Huh?” I asked, partially distracted by the mouth-watering aroma wafting from the steaming liquid I was stirring.

  “Last night, I saw the way you kept looking at me.”

  Jesus. Everything he said sounded like pure sex. I couldn’t decipher if it was intentional on his end or my lust-filled brain perceiving it this way.

  I tucked a few strands of hair behind my left ear. “You mean your hands?”

  “What else would I be referring to? Isn’t that usually where a wedding ring goes?” He soun
ded genuinely perplexed.

  I coughed and shuffled my feet, fighting the urge to flee the room or drown myself in my cup of coffee. My only option was to play it off. I whirled with a fabricated smile in place.

  “That’s what I was talking about. Anyways, you said you wanted to show me Meg’s stuff?”

  “Yeah, come with me.”

  Leaving my coffee to cool, I followed him back upstairs. We went in the opposite direction of the guestroom, to a door located at the very end of the hall.

  “This was her bedroom.”

  “You didn’t share a room?” I asked the question as I thought it.

  “Never.” He twisted the knob then stepped to the side, allowing me to enter first. I tried to avoid brushing against him, but the contact was inevitable. There wasn’t enough space.

  My breasts skimmed his (very solid) chest, and I sent a small thanks to god that I’d covered my nipples. They went taut, practically aching with a need to be touched.

  Fortunately, the state of the room served as a welcome distraction.

  Various boxes were piled all over the place. The king-sized bed was notably missing its mattress. I thought this was odd but didn’t comment on it. A hint of something like disinfectant lingered in the air.

  “Um. I didn’t expect there to be so much. I don’t think I’ll be able to get through all this before I go back.”

  “We can change the return flight.”

  My reaction to those words was as unexpected as him saying them. I frowned and purposely avoided meeting his gaze. I waved my hand around the room. “This is a ton of stuff. You’ve already gone through all of it?”

  “I haven’t sorted through anything. My mother and a friend were kind enough to box all this up.”

  I drew my lips into a straight-line and gave him a side-long glance.

  “Then how will I know what to do with any of it?”

  “Simple. If you come across something you feel I should have set it to the side for me.”

  This didn’t seem right. “But this is your wife’s stuff.”

  “Catalina. She’s dead.” All his morning niceties fell away. There was an unmistakable trace of disdain in his cold tone.