Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
The staircase next to her is enclosed in glass. The wooden steps appear to be suspended in the air, but they are anchored in a massive concrete block that runs down the center of the stairwell and extends to upper and lower floors.
It’s the most contemporary house she’s ever been in. And yet in spite of its modern design, it has a welcoming, warm feel.
Alessia begins to undo her bootlaces as Maxim marches into the kitchen and places her bags and their coats on the worktop. As she removes her boots, she’s surprised by the warmth of the floor underfoot.
“This is it,” he says, gesturing at their surroundings. “Welcome to the Hideout.”
“The Hideout?”
“It’s the name of this house.”
On the other side of the kitchen is the main living area, with a white dining table that seats twelve people and two large dove-colored sofas that stand in front of a sleek steel fireplace.
“It looks bigger than from outside,” Alessia says, intimidated by the scale and elegance of the house.
“Deceptive. I know.”
Who cleans this place? It must take hours!
“And this house, it belongs to you?”
“Yes. It’s a holiday home that we rent out to the public. It’s late and you must be exhausted. But would you like something to eat or a drink before bed?”
Alessia hasn’t moved from her spot in the hallway.
He owns this, too? He must be a very successful composer.
She nods at his offer.
“Do you mean yes?” he asks with a grin.
She smiles.
“Wine? Beer? Something stronger?” he asks, and she steps closer. Where she’s from, women generally don’t drink alcohol, though she’s sneaked a raki or two, but only in the last couple of years, on New Year’s Eve. Her father doesn’t approve of her drinking.
Her father doesn’t approve of many things…
Her grandmother had given her wine. But Alessia had not cared for it. “Beer,” she says, because she’s only ever seen men drink it—and to spite her father.
“Good choice.” Maxim grins, and from the fridge he removes two brown bottles. “Pale ale okay?”
She doesn’t know what that means, so she nods.
“Glass?” he asks, as he pops off both tops.
“Yes. Please.”
From another cupboard he takes out a tall glass and deftly pours one of the bottles into it. “Cheers,” he says as he hands Alessia her drink. He clinks her glass with his beer bottle and takes a swig, his lips circling the bottle’s neck. He closes his eyes, savoring the taste, and for some reason she has to look away.
His lips.
“Gëzuar,” she whispers. He raises his eyebrows, surprised to hear her speaking her native tongue. It’s a toast, mainly made by men, but he doesn’t know that. She takes a sip, and the chilled amber liquid runs down her throat.
“Mmm.” She closes her eyes in appreciation and takes another, longer draft.
“Are you hungry?” His voice is husky.
“No.”
* * *
The sight of her enjoying the simple pleasure of a beer is a thrill. But now, probably for the first time ever, I’m a little lost for words. I don’t know what she expects. It’s strange. We have nothing in common, and the intimacy we shared in the car seems to have vanished.
“Come, I’ll give you a quick tour.” I offer her my hand and show her into the larger living space. “Drawing room. Um…living area, I suppose. It’s all open-plan.” I wave my hand in the general direction of the room.
* * *
Now that she’s farther into the room, Alessia notices the gleaming white upright piano against the wall beside her.
A piano!
“You can play to your heart’s content while you’re here,” Maxim says.
Her heart skips a beat, and she beams at him as he releases her hand. She lifts the lid. Written on the inside is the word:
KAWAI
She doesn’t recognize the name, but that doesn’t bother her. She presses middle C, and it echoes in a golden yellow hue through the big room.
“E përkryer,” she breathes.
Perfect.
“Balcony over there.” Maxim points to the wall of glass at the far end of the room. “The sea is beyond.”
“The sea?” she exclaims, and whips her head to his, wanting confirmation.
“Yes,” he says, puzzled and amused by her response.
She races to the glass. “I’ve never seen the sea!” she whispers, squinting through the murky dark and flattening her nose against the cold glass in her desperation to catch a glimpse. To her disappointment there is nothing but a jet-black night beyond the balcony.
“Never?” Maxim sounds incredulous as he steps up beside her.
“No,” she says. She notices the little smudge marks her nose and breath have made on the window. Pulling her sleeve over her hand, she rubs them away.
“We’ll take a walk on the beach tomorrow,” he says.
Alessia’s smile becomes a yawn.
“You’re tired.” Maxim glances at his watch. “It’s half past midnight. Do you want to go to bed?”
Alessia stills, gazing at him as her heartbeat soars, and his question hangs between them full of possibility.