The Glass Secret (Chain of Secrets) (38 page)

Echoes

When I crossed the threshold, beyond the dark velvet drapes that hung between two large columns, a cool breeze swirled around my legs. My high-heels echoed up against the marbled floor, announcing my arrival to several smiling salespeople that were waiting to lunge at me. I acknowledged their presence with a half-assed smile, and I followed up with an imperial wave that implied:
I don’t want to be bothered.

I so needed to unwind and digest the gorgeous surroundings before getting cornered by some quick-talking sales guru. After all, I was only just beginning to feel like myself again, after having been accosted by the wind.

My eyes immediately darted to the center of the store. Hovering high on a marble pedestal was a young lady dressed in a Grecian diaphanous robe; she softly strummed subtle tunes on a golden harp. The harmonious music blended with the gentle swishing sounds of the water that swirled in the plethora of bathing spas below.

I stood still in awe over the aesthetics of the store. Who would go through such effort just to market bathing spas? I wondered if I would get the opportunity to meet the eccentric person that owned the boutique? I figured he, or she would be a hopeless romantic, much like myself. The assembly was dimly lit with an array of candelabras strategically scattered about the area.

There were cloudlike chandeliers that softly illuminated the celestial bonnet of spas. Some spas were running over with frothy bubbles, and others had rose petals floating in a gentle stream of water.

Arranged beautifully, on tables dressed in gorgeous ivory linens were glasses of poured champagne and chocolate strawberries for the taking. I helped myself to a few strawberries, and a glass of the sparkling aged wine, it was delicious, and burst with flavors of honey in my mouth and had an ultra rich fragrance; it had to be extremely expensive.

A gentle mix of rose, spearmint and eucalyptus soothed my senses. It was a very intoxicating, yet witty sales technique. I felt sure it was their fragrance-marketing tool that was working on me!

The further I entered into the gallery of spas, my battle with the wind had diminished and my spirit lifted, feeling enlightened by the loveliness of the place. I felt as if I had just passed through the gates of Heaven...or at least my interpretation of what Heaven would be like.

I wandered through the gallery, after several minutes of exploring I sensed an audience, curious eyes gazing upon me. My body stiffened, spilling a bit of my champagne, when in the dark my eyes caught an image of a god, and in the least that was what he looked like to me.

Was he perfect? Okay, maybe he was not perfect in terms of without a single flaw, but since there were none that the naked eye could see, to me, he was flawless. Certainly, I wasn’t the first woman whose breath caught upon seeing him. He was breathtaking, literally!

His eyes burned into me from across the room. The urge to flee shifted into gear, immediately. It was either depart now, or bow at his feet!

After I had shopped all day, I didn’t feel as if I could run in heels, nor did I look presentable enough to attract the likes of him.
He can’t be staring at me
, I thought,
impossible!

I glanced over my shoulder behind me, convinced that I would find a long-legged gorgeous honey-haired gazelle approaching him. His wife perhaps. I suspected that they both were staring at each other and through me as if I was invisible. To my surprise, there wasn’t anyone in ten feet of me. Was it my lucky day?

My plan was to turn back around, drop my chin to the floor and secretly peer at him from beneath my lashes as I browsed around. With my plan in motion, I turned back around, dropped my chin, and cast my eyes downward.
So far so good.

Without sense of sight, I reached into my bag and pulled out my dark Ray-Bans and put them on. Incognito I could get a better look at him behind my glasses, without him noticing.

Nothing ever goes off without a hitch. My damn sunglasses fell off my face. When I swiftly bent over to retrieve them, my eyes came face to toe with a man’s pair of shoes standing inches from mine. I grasped my glasses and slowly pushed up. My eyes traveled upward, ever so gradually, without looking perverse, examining his long strong legs, narrow hips, trim waistline, broad chest, and then a little higher, stopping on his gorgeous face.

Oh God...it’s you
!

He was definitely a god, or someone that looked like one.

So much for my plan, it was an epic failure. I stood there like an idiot that couldn’t speak, breathlessly, dazzled by his face.

Up close, I retracted any thoughts that he may possess a single flaw. I froze in my footsteps as his eyes drew me in.

“Can I help you? You seem lost.” His deep voice penetrated my eardrums.

“Uh. No.” I shook my head, smiling yet trembling inside. “I mean yes,” I said, gushing nervously.
What did I mean?
“I mean
no
, I’m not lost.  But
yes
, I could use some help.” It was obvious at that point I needed more than just help. I was mentally impaired and needed my brain to kick into gear. He appeared amused.

I soon found myself engaged in an actual two-way, sensible conversation with him. Well, sort of sensible.

He shifted his weight closer to me and extended his hand. “Greyson Rain de’ Bluche.” Our eyes locked into a stare, a lingering stare. What an interesting name. Very regal and cosmic. I wondered if his lineage was noble; perhaps, he was an aristocrat. I would’ve allowed him to reign over me any day.

Time seemed to stand still. I glanced at his hand, a gold ring, sexy buffed nails and intimidating long masculine fingers that were rather thick, reaching toward me. My eyes traveled upward to his white cuffs that framed the sleeve of his black designer jacket. Pure elegance. Manly elegance.

Things were going well, until it was my turn to react.

He asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, hello...nice to meet you too,” I said, flustered, feeling my cheeks turning red. It was embarrassingly obvious that I’d paused to check him out. I reached out to take his hand, realizing my sunglasses were in the way.
Dumb ass!
I inwardly scolded myself, shifting my sunglasses and shopping bags around.

“Here let me help you, Miss Eden.” He reached toward my packages. Within a fraction of a few seconds, I blew my chance to touch him or to be touched by the likes of him. Our handshake moment had passed.

My blood rushed back to my brain cells, kicking in my ability to separate fact from fiction. God himself, or merely just a god, did he just call me by name?

“Wait. How do you know my name?” I blanched, stepping back, feeling slightly anxious.

“It’s written on this. I believe it belongs to you.” He held out a white slip of paper.

“Is that mine?” I asked, batting my lashes. It looked like a receipt.
I didn’t buy anything from here.
I lowered my head, focusing on the letterhead. It was my receipt from Chanel; there was no doubt about it.

“I noticed it on the floor after you had stepped inside. The wind must have blown it out of your shopping bag. It’s really kicking up today. Looks like a storms moving in,” he said pointedly.

I shifted my eyes from his perfect features towards a small window. “Yes it does,” I responded without a thought and paused, processing how my misplaced receipt landed in his hands from my wallet. I could have sworn it was in the pocket of my wallet. I had always diligently put things away. There was a proper place for everything.

I set one of my packages down on the floor and reached toward the receipt.

“I assumed it might be of importance. That is why I’m hand delivering it to you.” He refolded it in half and handed the slip to me.

“Thank you,” I said, retrieving it from his hand. I exhaled and half-laughed at his double entendre. The sound of my laughter made him smile, although I wasn’t sure if he realized why I had giggled. I blushed, rolled my eyes, waved the slip into the air, and then stuffed it into my purse. “Yes, it’s kind of important...shoe receipt.”

Well, so much for any covert reason why he stared at me earlier. It was now clear. All he wanted was to give me the damn receipt. I tossed my glasses in my bag, picked up my packages and clumsily turned to get on with my shopping.

“Hey, when I said your name, you looked at me as if you had seen a ghost.”

“I did?” I winced. “Sorry you just knocked me off guard, for a second.”

“Please, you don’t have to apologize,” he said, then paused. The cadence of his voice washed over me. “You should never have to say you’re sorry for anything you haven’t done wrong.”

“It’s a habit, I suppose,” I replied bashfully. It was now evident that he was stalling for a reason to continue to talk, and to pay me compliments. Maybe this was my lucky day after all.

“One, that someone so beautiful such as yourself shouldn’t posses.”

Who is this man?

“Thank you.” I blushed and fumbled with my shopping bags.

“Let me ask Pierre to take
care
of
those for
you
, while
we
peruse the gallery,” Rain said, putting emphasis on the words
care of
—
you
and
we.
His pointed accentuations caused my heart to flutter. Before I could answer, he gently lifted my bags from my hands and turned. Was he here to buy a spa as well?

“Can I assist you Mr. de’ Bluche?” A man’s voice politely asked. Over Rain’s shoulder I noticed a distinguished older gentleman standing behind him. It was almost as if he manifested out of the dim lighting, the same way the moon does at night. The man came out of nowhere. It was actually kind of unearthly.

Rain acknowledged him with a slight nod, and said, “Yes, please.” Then he glanced in my direction. “I’ll only be gone for a moment,” he said in a protective manner. Thinking back, no, it was territorial. Perhaps both. Protective and territorial.

I gushed inwardly as he pivoted on his heels with my bags in hand. I was relieved not to have to tote them around. They were quite heavy, and they had gotten in the way once already.

“Pierre, can you please take Miss Eden’s packages,” Rain smoothly said. His voice trailed off as he handed my packages to the man. Rain seemed to know the owner of the store rather well, that’s who I assumed Pierre was. I inconspicuously studied them both closely.

-47-

Mmm...

Pierre looked significantly older than Rain. They drew in closer to each other as they spoke. Pierre was remarkably tall—as in, looming a few inches over Rain who was already considered ultra tall from my perspective. Pierre gave off an impression that he would’ve catered to any requests that Rain may have asked.

They appeared to have an immense amount of respect for each other. Pierre had a fatherly air about him, and for a man of his age, he was built quite nicely too. Surprisingly, he wore his hair long, pulled back into an approximately seven-inch ponytail. Yet it fit him well and was nicely groomed.

They both stepped a few paces in the opposite direction away from me. I strained to hear their conversation but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Rain intermittently glanced back toward me and smiled suggestively, cueing me in that he would be delayed a second longer.

As they spoke, I welcomed the opportunity to check him out. I pretended to be occupied by my cell phone, meanwhile, discreetly eyeing every inch of him. The view from behind him looked as sensational as he did from the front.

Rain had to have been six foot-six, in the least, or taller. In my four-inch high heels, I gauged his height pretty accurately when we were standing close. His physique was strong, lean and muscular, stacked with broad shoulders. He had jet-black dark hair that dusted his collar. It was combed back off his delicious face.

His choice of clothing was impeccable. Gray belted slacks, a crisp white shirt with one button undone, revealing a fine dust of hair, and topped off with an elegant designer black jacket.

I was impressed that he wasn’t dressed in a matchy-matchy suit from head to toe. He apparently put thought into how he presented himself. I especially liked the detail of the platinum cufflinks.

There was no mistaking beneath his attire he was packing concealed weapons. Not as in illegal guns...but dangerous man gear!  

His smooth complexion was olive, but on the fair side. It was apparent he wasn’t a sun worshipper. His skin was pore-less, yet rather rugged too, extremely manly. He sported a five o’clock shadow that defined his strong jaw line. I could see his profile as he spoke.

All his features were totally symmetrical to one another, so rare. I watched his full-lips curl, ever so slightly. Perched below his thick dark brows were his mesmerizing light-gray eyes that contrasted brilliantly with threads of coal-black ribbons. I found them intriguingly stunning.

Suddenly my cell buzzed in my hand...a text!
My phone buzzed again. Perhaps I should check it.