Overture (Rain Dance, Book 1) (Rain Dance Series) (16 page)

     
Eight in the
morning was a bit too early for me, so I had gone back to sleep after calming
down. Now, almost two hours later, the sky was still filled with thick, dark
clouds, yet somehow the sun was shining through every corner in between. As I
stood up and stretched, I waited for this morning's mood to set in. Today I was
feeling…like a normal girl.

     
I was too giddy
to eat an actual breakfast, so I settled for my favorite fruit smoothie. As for
the day's outfit, it consisted of a faded pink babydoll top that fell to my
thighs, dark blue skinny jeans, comfortable brown boots with small wedge heels,
and a matching cardigan. I didn't feel like doing anything with my hair, so I
just left it down and stuck a headband on. Having forgotten to comb it the
night before, my waves had dried into large curls. I sent a prayer to the
heavens for the existence of anti-frizz protection before I left.

     
The contrast
between the sun and the dark shadows of the clouds was something else - like
downright otherworldly. I tried to walk straight while peeking up at the sky as
often as I could, but I may have stumbled once or twice.

     
I said hello to
Samantha, Zach, and Patricia before heading straight to my own private space.
Shutting the door, I put on some trip hop music, exchanged the cardigan for my
apron, then continued working on chalking outlines.

     
Hours passed
and I was making significant progress. I didn't even pause for a break until I
heard my phone buzz a couple minutes after one. It was a text from Ethan:
I'll
be heading over there in five.

     
I inhaled
sharply as butterflies took hold of my stomach and replied quickly:
You
can't see the room until I'm finished with it.

     
His reply was
just as quick:
The break room, then. Wait for me in there.

     
I put on a pair
of pink slippers I had bought over the weekend. I preferred painting barefoot,
and while it was acceptable to do so in this room where it was just me and the
cloth-covered floor, it probably wouldn't look too good outside of the room
where everything was strictly business-professional.

     
I peeked down
the corridor and stepped out when I was sure it was empty, then shut the door
behind me and went into the break room, walking straight to the window. I loved
that the other room had a glass ceiling, but it would be nice to have the sky
right in front of me without having to twist my head up so much.

     
I was studying
the clouds when I heard the door close behind me. I turned to Ethan. Out of
instinct, I had avoided looking at him for too long up until yesterday. But now
I felt comfortable enough with him to take my time. He stood tall, giving off the
aura of absolute confidence. The contrast between his hair, his eyes, and his
skin was a thousand times more beautiful than the sky had been that morning.

     
I had to touch
him to know that he was real - to know that
I
was real and that what had
happened yesterday was also real. So I did. By the time I reached him, my hand
was already in the air. I traced down the straight line of his nose with my
finger. Then his brow, starting from the inner corner. I followed it out and
down his cheek, down along his jaw. When I reached his chin, I moved up and
traced the bottom of his lip.

     
He was real.

     
Before I could
drop my hand, he caught my finger between his teeth ever so gently. I felt his
smooth tongue graze over the tip for a few seconds before his hand came to wrap
around mind. Releasing my finger, he kissed it and moved in closer, bringing
his other hand to my face.

     
"Amber," he said, staring directly into my eyes.

     
"I never
did kiss you for that, did I?"

     
He smiled. As I
began looking around the room, a thought suddenly crossed my mind.

     
"So did
you at any point hope that you might have your way with me in here? That you
might say, 'be ready in three,' and I would be at your beck and call, just
waiting to relieve you from the stressfulness of your day, if only for a few
minutes?"

     
His eyes
darkened as his smile grew. "For such a sweet, innocent face, you have a
very dirty mind."

     
"…Is that
why you like me? Do you have a thing for innocent looking things?"

     
"I have a
thing for
you
," he corrected. "And while I can't help what you
are, I can certainly enjoy it."

     
"So you
did
hope to get some action in here."

     
"I could
just as easily bring you into my office."

     
"But that
wouldn't be nearly as discreet."

     
"My office
is soundproof. And there's no need for discreetness when you're the boss."

     
I shook my head
and decided to change the subject, not wanting to think about how wrong his
words were. "So how has your day been so far?"

     
"Uneventful. Four meetings so far, soon to be nine by the end of
the day." Without so much as a sound, he hoisted me up into his arms, much
like he had the night before. "I don't have too long, but I needed to hold
you." He moved to sit on the sofa with me still in his arms. "How's
the mural going?"

     
We talked
comfortably about nothing in particular for a few minutes until it was time for
him to leave again. He left me with a kiss just like this morning's. It wasn't
especially rough, but it certainly wasn't gentle. A little dose of what was to
come, perhaps?

     
He would take
me directly to his home tonight. If it were anyone else, I would have said no.
Hell, if it were anyone else, yesterday would not have even happened. But, as I
now knew, things were so unbelievably easy with Ethan. I had come to the
conclusion that I was okay with things not working out. What we had going on
now was fun - and it was only the second day.

     
The rest of the
time past slowly, and I'd eventually gone from trip hop to ambient glitch pop.
But most importantly, I had finally started to paint the angels. Here is where
the hard part began. It was all in the details, down to every stroke, every bit
of shading, and all kinds of texturizing…I think it would be fair to say that I
was a perfectionist. So I knew that this was going to be a long and grueling
process. But I would still love every minute of it. Hopefully. I lived for the
details. It wasn't enough to paint a picture, I had to bring it to life. I had
to capture the feeling.

 
    
I took a break sometime after three,
eating lunch in the break room, which I realized would definitely come in handy
as I would need a different space to clear my mind so I could get a clear
perspective when I returned to working.

     
When five
o'clock rolled around, Ethan sent me a text telling me to come to his office. I
cleaned up all my tools and put them away, pulled my cardigan and shoes back on
and grabbed my iPod. With one last look at today's accomplishments, I said
goodbye to my future friends and closed the door.

     
When I arrived
in front of his office, I noticed that Patricia wasn't there. Unsure of what to
do, I texted Ethan:
Do I just walk in?

     
Unless you
want me to come and carry you in
, he replied.

     
I put my phone
away and entered. Ethan was sitting behind his desk, organizing papers within
files. As it was only the second time I had been in his office, I hadn't yet
seen him seated there. He looked powerful and composed, as though he were
sitting in his own throne.

     
"Come," he ordered without looking up.

     
I made my way
to the front of his desk. He stacked the files together and reached for a
sticky note. I watched carefully as he wrote some fancy cursive on it before
sticking it on the top most file. Moving the pile to the side, he looked up at
me and held out his hand. I took it and he began to lead me around the desk,
pulling me onto his lap when I got close enough. Once I was in his arms, he
sighed heavily into my neck.

     
Was it maternal
instincts? I didn't know, but I suddenly had the urge to hold him, rock him
back and forth, and then sing to him. Instead, I settled for wrapping my arms
around him and rubbing my hand through the soft strands of his hair. I kissed
the top of his head and moved my other hand across his upper back.

     
"I missed
you," he said quietly.

     
Had it really
been that long?

     
...
Yes, it
had.

     
Immediately, I began to worry.
This is all wrong.
We're moving too fast, aren't we?
"…I'm here now," I answered.

     
We sat like
that for a good few minutes, saying nothing. His breathing was even and warm,
softly tickling the curve of my neck.

     
I never
wondered what it must be like for a person to run their own business. I never
had a reason to. I knew it must've been stressful and unbelievably time
consuming, of course. He said he didn't date. He might have fucked around,
which was understandable, but did that mean he didn't have anyone to go home to
ever? Or did he say that he didn't do a lot of dating because he was more of a
relationship kind of guy? He spent the night at the apartment yesterday like it
was no big deal. Did he do that often?

     
I let out a
heavy sigh. I didn't want to think about those kinds of things. I wanted to
ask, but asking him about his past might lead into him asking me about mine,
and I knew I wasn't going to be ready for that anytime soon, if at all. For now,
I would just have to deal.

     
"…Aren't
your legs falling asleep?" I asked after a while.

     
"You
hardly weigh a thing. I could hold you all day," he answered.

     
I yawned.

     
"Always
sleepy. Should we stay in tonight, too?"

     
I nodded in
consent. Kissing my forehead, he stood up and set me down, but kept his arms
around me until I was standing up straight. I smiled up at him and he kissed me
again chastely on the mouth.

     
"Let's go,
then."

His
home was further away from the Luxadigm than the apartment. For most of the
drive, we remained quiet. It wasn't until we were almost there when I suddenly
began wondering if I would need a change of clothes or anything.

     
"Um…"
My teeth closed around my bottom lip. "Will I be spending the night?"

     
"I was
hoping you would."

     
"I don't
have a toothbrush or anything."

     
"Don't
worry about it. Is there anything in particular you feel like eating
tonight?"

     
Brownies and
milk.
"Not really."

     
I was surprised
when we drove up to a private residence, and it must have shown on my face.

     
"Where you
expecting something else?" he asked, glancing in my direction.

     
"I wasn't
expecting anything. It's just that, usually, all the business men in the books
- and in the movies," I added, "live all the way up, up, up, high in
their towers, plotting how they're going to take over the world. At least the
single ones do."

     
"Is that
so?"

     
As we drove
closer, I began to study all of the architectural details. The house was a
light beige with just the right amount of columns and a charcoal-colored roof.
Large, white-framed windows were spread equally throughout, those on the second
story covered by black decorative railing to prevent any accidental falls.

     
It was a simple
kind of fancy, not at all over the top. I didn't quite know how to describe it.
It was slightly Mediterranean with a hint of old Hollywood, but mostly it was
magical. Trees surrounded both sides of the house and I could see that the
grass, plants, and shrubs were very well-taken care of. Rather than park in the
garage, he stopped the car on the small road that circled around the large spot
of lawn grass. As soon as he began exiting the car, I was already shutting my
door closed, bobbing up and down with excitement.

      
He
chuckled at my eagerness and took my hand. He didn't say anything as we walked
up the steps, or when he opened one of the large double doors and gestured for
me to enter first.

     
Timeless
elegance. That was the only way I could describe it, with perhaps a pinch of
male modernness. I walked a few feet through a rounded archway into the
entrance room.
A foyer - is that what they called it?
Directly to my
left was a staircase that curved up into the second floor. I continued walking
forward, watching how it ran up and all along the walkway of the upper floor.
The chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling was colored in gold, as
were all the smaller scone lights that decorated the white paneled walls.

     
Aside from the
large staircase, the entrance area was left wide open with only a large console
table to the right, which held fresh flowers and a sculpture of an angel.
Behind it hung a large oil painting of a garden. It was a trio of some of my
most favorite things, but something about the image struck me as odd. I
couldn't say why, exactly. As much as I wanted to trace the details of the
angel with my fingertips and smell the flowers, something told me not to get
too close. So instead, I simply admired it from afar.

     
After a minute,
I finally turned to Ethan, who had been watching me silently the entire time.
"More," I begged excitedly.

     
Despite the
dull weather, his home remained very bright. Whites and creams filled most of
the space, with accents of gold, black, and dark browns. For the most part, it
was simple, but decorated with all kinds of small details that made it feel
wonderfully cozy and rich - but not overly rich to the point where it no longer
felt like a home. And the size of the house was perfect. Large enough to make
you feel slightly adventurous, but conveniently small enough that you could get
from one end to the other in very little time.

     
As we began to
exit the living room, we came to another staircase. It was wide enough that we
could both walk side-by-side with enough room to stretch. "Are both stairs
accessible from up there?" I asked, pointing up.

     
He shook his
head. "The front only goes to the office area. These stairs lead into the
rest of the house."

     
Ethan remained
quiet as he continued walking me around. Pretty soon, I began to feel more and
more tension coming from him with every minute that passed. Naturally, I
started to tense up, too. Did he regret bringing me here? Or maybe he had
something else on his mind. Maybe it was work-related.

     
My thoughts
abruptly came to an end when we came to a room on the second floor. The windows
were left wide open, leaving the white curtains around them to flow gracefully
in the wind. I was reminded of my favorite nightgown - one that I loved to
dance and twirl in. And there, standing just before the window, was a beautiful
grand piano.

     
"Do you
play?" I asked.

     
"Yes."

     
My feet moved
on their own, my brain too entranced to tell them to stop. I reached out my
hand to press down on a key, only to quickly pull it back in fear. It wasn't
mine to touch. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

     
"Do
you
play?" he asked.

     
"In my dreams."

     
"Go ahead.
It won't bite," he spoke softly.

     
I looked at
him, still unsure. But his gentle expression consoled me. I reached out again
and gently pressed down. The note came out soft, but still managed to make me
jump. I smiled. It had been so long since I'd last touched a piano.

     
Licking the
sweet and metallic taste of blood within my mouth, I looked around. Apparently,
this was a music room. There were shelves built into the walls that were filled
with CDs. Boxes full of various types of records took over one corner of the
room. I also noted two familiar-shaped cases that leaned against a small table,
which held an old record player.

     
"What else
do you play?" I asked, gesturing towards the two cases, trying to guess
what was inside.

     
"Violin."

     
Ah. Of
course.
"Can you tell me something you can't do?"

     
"...Paint."

     
I nodded,
feeling a little better about myself.

     
"Come
on."

     
My skin tingled
when he took me by the shoulders and gently began to lead me out of the room.
We walked to the end of the hallway, coming to a set of double doors, one of
which was open slightly. Extending his arm out from behind me, Ethan nudged it open
completely, and with his other hand at the small of my back, he gently pushed
me forward.

     
It was the
master bedroom. Large, of course, and colored a little differently from most of
the other rooms. Inverted, almost. Brown dominated the wooden flooring, the
walls, and the bedding - with the exception of the ivory pillows, which also
matched the enormous rug that was placed underneath the king size bed. Black
made another appearance, in small subtle details for added depth, but it was
mostly the soft, golden accents that brought everything together.

     
It was warm,
and I instantly felt at home, much to my surprise.

     
"Do I get
to sleep in here?" I asked.

     
When Ethan
didn't answer immediately, I started to worry again. But eventually, he
replied, "Yes."

     
Sighing, I
turned to face him. "What's wrong?"

     
Somehow, he
managed to look slightly surprised. "Nothing."

     
"Really?
You aren't having any work-related troubles? You aren't having second thoughts
about me or anything?"

   
  
After gazing at me thoughtfully, he placed his hand
around mind. "I'm just having a moment."

     
"A
moment?"

     
"A
moment," he repeated. "I believe you had one yesterday. Now it's my
turn."

     
I felt my
forehead crease in confusion.

     
"I don't
bring women in here. You're the first, aside from the housekeeper."

     
Oh
. This
new bit of information came as a delight, and I couldn't help the small smile
that graced my lips.

     
"And now
that you're here, in my
bubble
," he continued, "…well, it
feels like it's no longer just mine."

     
I thought about
that for a moment, only now realizing what it was like to be on the other side
of that sentiment. "Those really are some heavy words."

     
His smile was
sardonic. "Do you want to leave?"

     
"No,"
I answered immediately.

     
"…Because
I can take you home and we can attempt to take things at a normal pace. Either
way, you've already entered into this room. I don't plan on letting you go
anytime soon, so you're going to be stuck with me for a while."

     
How long is
a while…
? "…I don't want you to let go."

     
Bending down,
he kissed my cheek. "I have something for you."

     
I watched him
move to one of the dressers and open up the top shelf, pulling out a mass of
fluff. He tossed it to me before moving towards the bed, where he began undoing
his tie.

     
Curious, I
unfolded the fluff. It was a long nightgown. Ivory, and sleeveless with an
empire waist. It was gorgeous. The upper bodice was made primarily of silk and
had small, intricate lace trimming embedded into where it met with the skirt,
which was made of soft, transparent cloth. But there were layers of it to
prevent any immodesty.

     
"It's
mine?" I asked, looking it over once more with possessive eyes.

     
"Well, I'm
certainly not going to wear it."

     
I practically
jumped him, holding him tightly and placing a kiss on his cheek. "I love
it so much! Thank you." I kissed him again, on the mouth this time, and
then hopped off the bed to ogle at it some more. "How did you even manage
to get this so soon with your busy schedule? I hope you didn't go out of your
way."

     
"I had
more than enough time to look over and choose from the options Rosie had found.
Also, I had her pick up a few extra things for you, which you'll find in the
bathroom."

     
I looked at him
questioningly. "Rosie?"

 
    
"The housekeeper."

     
"Ah. Then
give her my thanks, too, please." I focused my attention back on the item
in my hands. "I'm surprised you settled for something with this much
coverage. I figured, given the choice, you would have chosen…I don't know,
something sexy."

     
He stood up,
now free of his tie, jacket, and waistcoat. His shirt clung to his body in way
that would have made me start drooling over his carpet had I not had the sense
to look away. I guess it would take time before I got completely used to
looking at him.
 

     
"I want
you to feel comfortable here," he explained. "Anyway, just because it
keeps the goods covered, it doesn't make it unsexy." He smirked and tugged
lightly on my hair as he walked past me and headed into his walk-in closet.