As I Breathe (One Breath at a Time: Book 2) (34 page)

“I don’t know much about publishing or self publishing, but I take it the author was still very successful despite her faux pas.”—
I vehemently nodded, yes for my answer
— “Good for her.” Rain shook his head slightly. “How do you know so much about the industry?”

I liked that the conversation turned toward writing and such; it was what I knew best.

“I’m a published author.” I grinned, batting my eyes proudly. “I haven’t had any big hits yet, but hope to someday.”

His striking eyes scanned my face. They were vividly smoldering in the shadows of the candlelight. I returned his gaze, drinking in all of him. “That’s great, Brielle. What an endearing skill it is to tell a story, especially when one creates it from nothing.”

A spur of confidence hit me hard. His words of praise, his eyes, all of him caused my heart to beat in excited rhythm. I sensed he was impressed with my profession. “That’s true. It’s not as easy as people think. Poor, E L James got roasted by some people.”

“
Why is that? The storyline?”

“
Hmmm, not so much. Maybe because she was an Indie author, and the plot was shocking at times. But most of the negative controversy was about the fan-fiction spin-off of
Twilight
, and well—I give her tons of credit that she pushed the envelope and stuck by her story. It was a great payday for her too.” I’d just given her a great review.

“
That’s sweet of you supporting other authors.”

I tilted my head to the side, and smiled coyly. “Thanks. I wish everyone success. I don’t think she expected all the success so she wrote it and put it out there but she stuck by her guns, and the story, no matter what people called it, a flawed piece of crap or a romantic masterpiece. Crazy, huh?” I chirped.

Rain’s deep-set hooded eyelids flinched. “Not at all. It’s like when you love someone, a child, a parent, or a lover, our brains trick us into seeing what we want. It’s nature’s way of allowing us to see past our own flaws, and in this case, the ones in our own creations; however, a stranger may not be as forgiving and able to overlook them.”

“
That’s for sure,” I agreed. “Some people may see a distracting mole as a beauty mark and others might want to burn it off. Okay, that’s a bad example.” I blushed.

“
No, it was a good one. So, what was this whole chamber thing about in the book?” Wow, I didn’t expect his abrupt subject change. I thought that topic was behind us.

I shrugged. “Oh yeah,” I said sheepishly. “I guess we got off the subject.”
Damn it,
I cursed inwardly. This guy was too curious about
Fifty Shades
and the chamber.
Why?
“Actually, I haven’t finished reading the trilogy yet, but I will, someday.” I sighed inwardly, feeling confident that I had dodged telling him the purpose of the red room. Phew! No one wants to discuss BDSM with a man they barely know.

A gleam flashed in Rain’s eyes. “I see. So, the
red room
was as far as you got, right?” Rain appraised me up and down, suspiciously. I could feel my face turn flush crimson. “Would you like to sit down?”

“
No. I’m fine.” I covertly glanced around and didn’t see any chairs.

“
So you were saying the red room was???” Rain asked again.

Something he’d said struck me odd. I was feeling foolish for mentioning the book in the first place, especially if I didn’t have the guts to explain it. I shook off my nerves and relented, “Right. Okay since your so persistent, the red room was where Christian Grey took the leading woman Ana and—”

Rain interjected, “Brielle...” He shut his eyes and a sexy smirk rose to his face. The dimple in his cheek deepened.

Before he could say another word, I interjected. “Wait just a minute,” I beamed at him. “I didn’t tell you his chamber was painted red. You—you read it, didn’t you? Oh my God.” My face burned of embarrassment. Then, I burst into uncontrolled laughter and so did he.

Between Rain’s throaty deep laughter he confessed, “I didn’t read it. But I’ve certainly heard of it. You’re adorable. I couldn’t help but watch you squirm. I was wondering how you were going to work your way out of explaining the hook” He chuckled and praised me. “You did well.” His laughter washed over me.

“
Oh my gosh, you’re so bad watching me suffer like that. Talk about torture.”

“
Don’t worry, I would never torture you, ever. Maybe just tickle you to death.”

“
Cute,” I said, brushing it off. He sure liked teasing me. I felt the need to get him back, the competitive nature in me rose to the surface. “Okay, getting back to your original question then,
I
feel totally safe here. But it’s a good thing that when you opened the door the walls weren’t painted red—but then again...” I added, smiled and held his mesmerizing gray gaze.

“
And if they were?” he egged, showing me that he was as competitive as I was. Or he just wanted to continue flirting with me. I would definitely take his bait.

“
Paint them red and you’ll see,” I said daringly. Shockingly, Rain pivoted on his heels. “Where you are going?” I nervously piped out.

“
To get some red paint, of course.” He turned around and stared at me with a serious mien, then cracked a quick mesmerizing smile. The fullness of his lips caught my eyes. I wanted to kiss him there and then.

“
Ha-ha, funny.” We needed a subject change and fast. I hardly knew this man, but if we kept up this banter I could talk myself into trouble. I could tell, if based on nothing but on the long hands and large feet theory about a man’s private parts, I’d be in
big
trouble. Rain’s hands were long, manicured and manly, and he wore expensive size
large
designer shoes too. I shuddered at my wayward thoughts. “No seriously, I can understand why you would want to spend your spare time in this place. I love the cool air in here, it’s so refreshing.” How lame was that? Here I was talking about the weather conditions in his chamber.

“
It comes from the ground, there’s a fresh water spring that naturally helps to keep the chamber cool. It can be a little damp though. I discovered the cavern years ago—first I cleared the tunnel, which has since become the long hallway we walked down. This cavern is actually a part of the Montmartre Hillock that was a hidden passage mined into the foothills, going as far back to 270 BC.”

“
Wow, that’s incredible. I didn’t know that fact. My landlord told me this area of the city is called the Hill of Martyrs. He knows everything about Paris.”

“
He’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.”

I grimaced. “Ouch, beheaded. Poor guy. This place must be haunted by all kinds of spirits.” My eyes darted around, then back to Rain’s. “That could make it sort of creepy being in here alone.”

“Perhaps.” Rain’s smile turned downward, and his eyes shifted from mine.

“
Are you okay?” I worried that I had offended him in some way. Perhaps he wasn’t a believer in such things.

“
Yes, of course, I’m fine. I had hoped you wouldn’t be alarmed by the presence of spirits.” His tone was steady and serious.
Too serious.

At first I figured he was teasing me for bringing up the subject of ghosts. But his expression held. I wasn’t sure what to say, waiting for him to crack a smile.

“Oh no. I’m really not. I figure, if someone’s soul doesn’t go on to a better place, there’s a good reason for that, so we have to survive here together. Ghosts and all.” I laughed. “But I can say that if I ever saw a ghost with my own eyes, I’d be scared out of my wits.”

“
Well said, Brielle.”

“
So I take it you believe in them—ghosts?” Honestly, at that point I wasn’t too sure. If so, it would make an interesting topic to carry on conversation with him. Maybe he did believe because his serious expression never faded...I hoped so because I certainly have had my share of experiences with hearing voices, unidentifiable noises and getting chill bumps for unexplainable reasons.

“
Do I believe in ghosts? I’ve considered it.” Rain took a lighter from his pocket and lit a few candles that had blown out. He scanned the room, looking for any others that had burned down.

I followed closely behind him. “Do you need some help with those?”

“That’s okay, I’ve got this.” Something seemed different about him.

I squared my shoulders, floundering for conversation. “Speaking of ghosts, guess what? I recently bought this neat chair. It’s called a ghost chair. It’s really special.”

“Really? I’ve never heard of this term.” I was certain he had but felt the need to entertain my conversation as he did about
Fifty Shades of Grey.
He continued to light a few more candles as I spoke.

I smiled softly feeling a little inferior, regarding my knowledge of antiques. After all, his store was a showcase of exquisite antiques scattered about. He was definitely a connoisseur
of antiques. “Well, if you really don’t know, it’s a chair from the 1930’s. It’s made of clear plastic. That’s why it’s called a ‘ghost’ chair. It’s a cool artsy concept, almost invisible like a ghost.”

“
It sounds clever. That’s one piece I don’t own. I’ll keep my eye out for one,” he said in a humbling tone since he probably owns items that I could never afford.

“
So, I’m wondering have you ever seen any ghosts around here?” I asked, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had. Keeping the conversation going, my eyes swept to the corners of the dimly lit room. I said, “I mean something other than feeling just chills?”

This beautiful hole in the wall was older than the brownstone where I lived, which I felt was definitely haunted. I always sensed I was being watched when I was in the brownstone. I explained away the creepy sensations that I’d get as a friendly ghost. Often, I caught myself talking to it as if it was really there, but I’m sure that was only because I was lonely. In reality, I could have been sensing my neighbors spying on me from the glass apartment building across the street. Although it could have been my newly found secret admirer, who was probably a homeless man, as Mr. Piccart had feared. Either way I wasn’t going to confess to this gorgeous man I’d just met that I thought my home was haunted, not yet anyway. Maybe I’d tell him another time if there were to be one.

“I’m sure there are a few lurking around here.” Rain’s ominous eyes scanned the darkness of the chamber. Notably, his tone was dry; and he didn’t clearly answer my question. He seemed distracted by the sound of footsteps coming from behind the door and was suddenly uninterested in pursuing the topic of ghosts.

I shrugged and simply said, “Probably so.” 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.” I complimented him.

Rain’s smile returned in a flash. He ran his index 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 that he spoke of. “I did that in order to bring some sunlight in during the day. Then secured in the walls, added plumbing, electricity, the floors, and dressed it up with what you see here.” His eyes flitted over the décor then focused towards the far end of the chamber. To my surprise, on the far back wall, I noticed a dark leather sofa and tables that I hadn’t seen earlier. I supposed they were there the entire time. Still, it was odd, almost as if they had appeared out of nowhere. “There’s still an open tunnel on the other side of that wall over there.” He glanced towards the wall, pointing it out. “It runs along the entire chamber and leads to the underground spring. I would love to take you there sometime if you’re interested?”

“
Wow, it sounds fascinating. I would love to see it.”

“
I would love that too. Anytime you’re up for it, we can explore it together.”

“
That would be so much fun...I love doing things like that.” I beamed from ear to ear, a little too eagerly. This confirmed he’d be asking me out on a date before I left that day. My smile threatened to split my face in half. Perhaps my expression wasn’t that ridiculous but I felt elation bubbling up inside. The four-letter word, “love” was flying back and forth between us.

“
Would you like to see the rest of the place?”

“
Yes, most definitely.”

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 our footsteps as we walked deeper into the room.

“You did all of this?” I questioned the obvious.

“
Yes...for atmosphere.” When he spoke, the fullness of his lips curled upward in the sexiest kind of way.
His lips
. How I wanted him to kiss me. I imagined if he was this creative how much more creative would he be with his lips? God, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. He was indescribably sexy.

“
It’s amazing,” I whispered. He was amazing. Rain smiled softly, he was proud of the special affects no doubt. “I feel as if I’m in another world,” I said.

“
Thank you. It can have that effect on people,” he readily replied.

I wondered whom else he had shown off his chamber to. Other female customers? I pushed the fleeting thought aside.

As we walked deeper into the chamber Rain took my hand again. The 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 followed in our deliberate steps as if we were in a Broadway show. 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 façade inside. The room was nearly vacant and ever so quiet, save for the sound of the crackling wood from the fireplace, which magnified the stillness. Fresh spring water slowly trickled down one of the walls made completely of large rocks.

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. I wanted to play under the lights.

When I took my first step, soft music began to play. The intro caused butterflies to flutter in my stomach. Surprisingly, I knew the song, “Some Enchanted Evening,” by Perry Como.
What a romantic piece. I loved listening to original music from that era. My grandma used to play the classic songs over and over on her old record player. I could still hear the static of the needle in the grooves of the vinyl records.

I slowly spun into the room, a few feet away from Rain. 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. Rain’s 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 absolutely gorgeous...you belong on a stage.”

“
Oh never...please, dance with me,” I begged, blushing shyly.

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 condensation in the room taking revenge on my smooth hair, turning it into angelic ringlets, as it always does in high-humidity. Back to its natural state. With every pivot, my hair swung across my face, creating an image like wheat blowing in the wind.