King of Pride (Kings of Sin, #2)(29)
Kai slanted a disbelieving glance at me. “You’ve been doing too much thriller research.”
“Nope, just listening to a lot of true crime podcasts.” Which I supposed was the same thing. “It never hurts to be cautious.”
“I promise we’re not going to a black site. That’s reserved for Tuesday nights.”
“Ha ha. Hilarious,” I grumbled, but I fell silent when we stopped in front of a familiar door.
“The library.” Disappointment cut a swath through my nerves. “That’s it?”
I liked the library as much as the next person, but after expecting a maze of secret passageways or a fancy hidden room, it was a bit of a letdown.
A small smile touched Kai’s lips. “Have faith.”
Valhalla’s library soared two stories to an elaborate cathedral ceiling engraved with the founding families’ crests. Rolling ladders and filigreed spiral staircases connected the main floor to the upper level, which bristled with leather-bound books and priceless tchotchkes.
I followed Kai up one of those staircases to the mythology section, where he skimmed his fingers over a shelf of books so old their titles were barely legible. He stopped on a battered copy of The Iliad, twisted the gold lion statuette on a nearby table with his other hand, and pulled out the book before reshelving it.
“What are you…”
The soft creak of the bookcase swinging open swallowed the rest of my words. My jaw unhinged.
Oh my God.
Plush purple carpet muffled my footsteps as I stepped inside, feeling like I’d been dropped into the middle of a movie about some rich, eccentric billionaire who enjoyed befuddling his heirs with riddles and secret passageways.
So the surprise was a hidden room. And not just any hidden room, but the hidden room of my dreams.
A beautiful rolltop desk and chair occupied the right wall, complete with a vintage typewriter and Tiffany glass lamp that drenched the room in a soft amber glow. On the opposite wall, an antique leather trunk served as a table for piles of old magazines and assorted knickknacks. A cozy-looking couch sat in the middle of the room, piled high with cushions and a red cashmere throw.
A dreamy sigh escaped. I usually preferred noise and chaos over peace and quiet, but I could wrap myself in that blanket and stay here forever.
“My great-grandfather built this room when Valhalla was founded,” Kai said, closing the door behind us. “He was the most introverted of the founders, and he wanted a place where he could be alone and no one could find him. Only the managing committee knows it exists, and only my family knows how to open it.”
“And me,” I said softly, turning to face him.
Kai paused. “And you.”
The words sank so deep into my skin my breath couldn’t find its way around them. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell someone?”
He leaned against the wall, the picture of casual elegance, his eyes never leaving mine. “Will you?”
I held his gaze for a moment before giving my head a slow shake. My nerves buzzed like live wires in the rain, scattering sparks of awareness through my body.
Two people. A secret room.
Our presence here seemed painfully intimate, like a pair of star-crossed lovers’ last rendezvous or a forbidden glimpse inside someone’s diary.
A smile ghosted Kai’s mouth. “The room isn’t a treasure trove. There are no priceless artifacts or stores of gold here. But if you wanted a quiet place to write…”
The sparks of awareness melted into a golden, honeyed warmth.
I didn’t work well in silence. My doubts and second-guessing festered in the absence of company, growing claws and fangs that shredded my creativity into ribbons.
But Kai’s gesture was so thoughtful I didn’t have the heart to tell him, so I simply smiled through the blossoming ache in my chest.
“Thank you. This is…” I faltered, unsure how to express the emotions sweeping through me. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something so considerate for me without expecting anything in return. Not when it came to my writing, which even my friends sometimes treated as a hobby more than anything else. “This is amazing.”
The warmth of his attention settled on my back as I walked through the room, taking in the details, the decor, and the different titles on the shelves. To my surprise, they weren’t limited to the classics.
There were children’s books, academic texts, romance novels and fantasy doorstoppers. Dostoyevsky and Austen sat next to Chinese classics such as Journey to the West and Dream of the Red Chamber; Neil Gaiman and George R. R. Martin occupied the shelf below Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary. The eclectic collection spanned an impressive range of cultures, genres, and eras.
“We’re missing dinosaur erotica,” Kai said with a completely straight face. “I’ll have to remedy that oversight soon. If you have any recommendations, feel free to send them to me.”
I shot him a narrow-eyed glance. “You like poking fun at me, don’t you?” I accused over a bubble of suppressed laughter.
Another ghost of a smile, followed by a wicked gleam that had my pulse skyrocketing.
“Do I look like someone who would do such a thing?” Kai pushed off the wall and walked toward me, his stride easy but powerful, like a panther leisurely contemplating its next move.
The space between us collapsed, as did any glimmer of levity when he stopped in front of me. His body heat was a living, breathing thing, clouding my mind and stealing my focus until my world consisted of nothing except dark eyes, soft wool, and the clean, expensive scent of citrus and wood.