5: Crossing a line

 *Skye*

 I have to admit that I hesitated just a moment before walking into the room. We are standing on the landing, looking over the musty room and the two grand staircase leading down to it. The look of things makes me seriously fear that the floor might give away under us. Had the railing not been covered in years of dust I would have probably grabbed onto it for dear life.

 Unable to hold back a small half sneeze I look at the powder layer covering everything. The windows are covered in grime and the draperies faded, the sun that does get through shimmers in cobwebs and reveals brains of dust dancing, like ghosts of guests long gone. A couple of vases still holds flowers, or their whitered remains

 “Those other rooms we passed on the way here, the ones with closed doors. Are they all like this one ? Neglected and … sad”. I ask him softly, this place seems to demand hushed speaking.

 “Unfortunately yes. My father has allowed no one to touch or change anything since my mother died. This house, beside a few rooms, is a shrine to her”.

 I try to understand how this must have felt for a little boy, not only having to deal with the loss of his mother, never knowing her, but also living with this. I turn my head to glance at him. His face is an emotionless mask as he stands tall and stoic. He is used to this, he has never known anything else. “But it doesn’t work does it, things change, no matter how much we try to avoid it”.

 “Yes, you are right, they do”.

 “But you are a grown man now … and I have a feeling you are the one who is actually in charge of … everything. Why don't you just decide to fix things up ?”

 “Do you have any idea how much it would hurt and upset my father ? Just the hiring of staff to handle it, new faces moving around the house, it would unsettle him”.

 I look at him, so,this is why he is here, in this ghost of a house, for his father. Beneath the facade he must be capable of grandiose love and great compassion. For a moment I believe that if I just tell him everything, then he will rise up to fix it all and make my life right. How silly of me to think he would have anything but contempt for me. No, I am alone, all alone in handling this and protecting what is mine.

 “You will never be able to compete, Mrs Sinclair, not with my mother”.

 “I am not aspiring too. I understand what your father wants from a wife and I have accepted that it will be the terms of the marriage”.

 He shakes his head slightly. “Why are you willing to settle ?”

 Because it is the only way to get what I desire the most. “The son I will give him will be something special, rich and well known”.

 “He will be the second in line. He won’t get the company before I die”.

 The truth is I never expect my kid to take over. I am pretty sure Ben will marry and have kids, when he is ready. “He or she will still have money, connections, and get the right education. And me, I will be cared for. He has promised me a house, in my name, where I can retire when I will be twice a widow”. I look over the railing to the dance floor. “Can we go down there ?”

 “If you want to”.

 It’s not as much that, is a need to move, to keep my thoughts away from the doubt he has spurred. But I just do not see another way for me. 

 He offers me his arm, and as my only other option is a banister adorned with dust balls and cobwebs I accept it. As we move down the carpet covered steps I am trying to ignore his strength and sturdy build or the faint scent of sandalwood and orange flowers.

 As we reach the center of the grand room I pull my hand back, slowly turning as I imagine how this place had been back then, with people dancing and Maybe a live orchestra playing, in my mind it seems more ball in colonial times than what it actually was, but the room just fits well with my vision. 

 “What about you ? What will you do when he is gone ?” I ask without thinking.

 “I’m sorry ?”

 As I turn I realise that while he knows his father is up in years and probably not healthy, he has not considered he might be gone sooner than later. “When your father is no longer here, will you fix up the place or sell it ?”

 “Honestly, I haven’t thought about it”.

 And I know he really hasn't. His eyes tell me that. I admire him for it, truth be told. I wonder how it must have been like to grow up here alone … but he had not really been alone, if the articles are true. “Tom Ash and Noah and Nick Grey, they came to live here after their parents died, right ?” 

 “They did yeah”.

 “And people call the three of you ‘The big apple daredevils’, right ?”

 He looks at me, one eyebrow arching slightly … Those eyes just feel like they can look right into your soul and find every secret, every hidden story. “I have a feeling you know more than you let on”.

 Damn, I need to be more careful. “I read tabloid magazines and internet gossip”. I need to shift his attention to something else, so when I spot the double glass doors I quickly ask. “Can I go outside on the terrace ?”

“By all means, I should insist, it is kinda part of the tour”.

 He moves over to the door, slides a bolt aside and swings open the door. “Ladies first”.

 I slowly walk out on the patio and cross the dirty and in some places broken stones to the rusty wrought-iron railing, looking out on what can, with a bit of fantasy, be called a rural nature garden. Looking closer it is evidence still, that it was once a beautiful park. “So no gardener I assume”.

 “No, the old one retired when I was still a big kid and … yeah”. He shrugs.

 “That’s sad really. I do love gardens and flowers. Don’t your father ever want to stroll outside ?”

 “Did my father not answer that in all your conversations ?”

 I turn slightly to look at him. “I didn’t really ask that … I didn’t think to”.

 Leaning his hip on the balustrade he crosses his arms on that magnificent chest, looking the perfect picture of pure raw masculinity. “What else might you have forgotten to ask”.

 “I was simply trying to make small talk. I don't really care if he goes outside, I had the important questions answered”.

 “Maybe I should ask my father to see those correspondences … It could be interesting to see which questions you find important”. The last sounds more like he is talking to himself.

 I smile at him. “You will see that I am an open book”.

 “I find that hard to believe”.

 I cock my head slightly. “You are not a very trusting man”.

 “Am I wrong ?”

 I can’t claim he is. I definitely have my secrets, things I do not intend to share with him or his father. I have a feeling my future husband wouldn’t really mind, but Ben … he might care a great deal. After all his father just wants a wife and an heir, Ben seems to want to understand me.

 I quickly change the subject. “I assume you go down to New York quite often”.

 “I do on occasion, but not as often as I probably should. I don’t like leaving my father here alone. Even though today shows that he can get into plenty of trouble even with me here”.

 “Well now you will not be leaving him alone, I will be here and you can go to New York as much as you wish. I have heard you like to travel too. Do you have any plans to visit interesting places ?”

 I can’t really read his expression as he answers. “I haven’t been anywhere the last couple of years and I have no plan to go any time soon”.

 “Just remember with me here, I can look after your father and you are free to do whatever you want”.

 An eyebrow flies up. “I get a feeling that you want to be rid of me”.

Maybe because that is exactly what I want, and unfortunately he isn’t stupid. I still try to bluff. “I am just trying to be a good step-mother to you. Give you more freedom and lessen your burden”.

 Unfolding his arms, he steps forward and touches his thumb to my lips, before very slowly outlining them, his gaze finds my mouth. Heat slams into me. While he is only caressing the edges, it feels as though he is tracing his thumb along the very essence of me. “To be honest and frank Skye, I have great trouble seeing yup as my mother, step or not”.

 “You Said you would be good”. My voice sounds too breathless, too raspy. Curse him, why is he capable of awakening things I am fighting hard to keep at bay.

 “I did, I guess. But you have not yet Said your vows, you are not yet married, so as we are both single, why not have a little taste before it’s too late ?”

 He moves closer and my hand flies up, planting itself in the middle of his chest, a hard well muscled chest. Under my fingers I can feel the steady beats of his heart. “No, we can’t”.

 His eyes have darkened. “Scared you might enjoy it too much ?”

 Oh I am terrified I would. But he is testing me, to see if a handsome young man could sway me to cheat. “I am your father’s fiancee”.

 “Fiance is a bit of a … stretch isn’t it ? I mean you answered an advertisement and auditioned online. It’s not like you are in love. Before today you never met”.

 “No matter what we are to be married”.

 “A single little friendly taste, what would that hurt ?” Even with my hand on his chest he manages to lean in enough that his hot breath caresses my cheek. “No one will ever know”.

 “I will know and so will you”.

 “Scared then … I am ready to bet that you are as aware of me as I am of you”.

 “I would not make that bet if I was you, you will lose”.

 “Then prove it”. His lips, so warm and soft, grace the corner of my mouth. “Prove you are not attracted to me, that there is nothing between us”. His lips are pressed to the spot this time. “If you are sure in your resolve my father, your mind won't be changed by one kiss”.

 This is dangerous, so very tempi g and dangerous. I need to slap him, to push him off me, that is the smart thing to do, the right thing, but it is so hard to keep my head straight when he nipples on my nibble on my lower lip.

 The heat sneaking up on me makes me close my eyes. The tenderness of his lips are pulling down my Walls, I can hardly remember the last time anyone treated me tenderly or enticed me with kitten-like licks at the seam of my mouth. I can not hold in the moan, and to him that must have signaled my surrender, because it evaporates the tenderness as his mouth descends on mine, hot and passionate, hungry and greedy.

 I should push him, kick him, stomp on his food, something … but the attraction has been shimmering between us since he opened the front door. He is young and handsome. Is there really any harm in one last kiss from a man I am attracted to ? One last moment embraced in strong arms ? A few seconds of being pressed against his broad chest ? Every fiber in my body tells me to run, but his mouth is hypnotizing me.

 I give in and melt into him.