Page 9 of Weeping Roses
I glance down and notice a battered suitcase that lies open, with what appears to be old curtains inside. As I venture further into the gigantic space, I notice it extends the entire width of the house and I hate that I am so fascinated by it. There is so much history up here, it’s obvious and I doubt that anybody has been here for generations, judging by the thick untouched dust that is causing me to choke a little as I breathe it in.
I jump when I hear footsteps and turn toward the door, expecting to see Mr. Romanov glowering at me from the doorway.
I see nothing.
The footsteps are the only sound accompanied by my racing heart as I wait for the owner to reveal themselves. They slow down and a cool breeze touches my face as if icy fingers freeze my skin and then the footsteps melt away in a puff of the icy air. I shiver and my inner voice screams at me to leave. I shouldn’t be here; this is not a place that is good for me.
I back up a little, unsure whether to continue, and then a movement in the far corner causes me to turn and run like hell toward the open door.
As I spill out of the dark depressing attic, I waste no time in tearing down the stairs, only to meet a wall at the end of them.
Two hands reach out and imprison me in a wall of muscle and I scream, “Let me go!”
“Relax, it’s me.”
I pull back and stare up at my captor and, far from feeling relief, a cold shiver passes down my spine at the anger flashing in the eyes of the man holding me captive.
“What happened?”
His voice is cold, brittle even and I gulp, “I’m sorry. I freaked out a bit back there.”
“Why?”
He raises his eyes to the staircase, and I shiver. “It’s creepy as fuck up there; remind me not to return alone.”
He shakes his head. “Ladies don’t curse like sailors. Respect yourself or you won’t earn any from others.”
“Are you kidding me?” My eyes widen as my heart races, although I’m not certain it’s out of fear anymore. It hasn’t escaped my attention that he is still holding me very tightly and it’s stifling as fuck.
“You’re telling me how to speak now? What are you, my father?”
It makes me laugh incredulously and for a second, I detect a twinkle in his eye before he shuts it firmly down.
“Come.”
He makes toward the stairs, and I say fearfully, “You can if you like, but I’m not going up there for all the tea in China.”
“Tea in China?”
He grins, and it stuns me a little as it completely transforms him from the usual surly arsehole into someone who is almost human.
“Yes.” I take a deep breath. “I think it’s haunted and I’m not about to test that theory even with, um, company.”
“You’re scared of ghosts?”
He shakes his head. “They are a figment of your overactive imagination, and there is no concrete factual evidence that they exist.”
He jerks his head toward the stairs.
“Come. Face your fears and they become irrelevant.”
I’m surprised when he extends his hand and winks, and I hesitate before taking it and as his strong hand closes around mine, for some reason it gives me much needed courage.
I follow him up the staircase and my heart thumps as we head through the open door that I neglected to close and as we step inside the rotten space, he sighs heavily. “What the fuck is this? Do people really allow this to happen?”
“What are you talking about?”
I keep close to him as we stare around the darkened space and he huffs, “This is a disgrace. If you don’t want to keep things, throw them out, not allow them to rot like corpses above your head.”