Page 13 of The Scarab's Game
“You don’t need to escort me to my doorstep.” I’d told Dante I was going to take my laptop somewhere to sit and think. The truth was, I’d likely take it as far as my balcony, then stare at my phone until it rang.
We passed three doors before Emmett spoke again. “Are you upset about something?”
Something? Try everything. “I’m fine.”
His right eyebrow cocked, the same way Scar’s did when I wasn’t telling the whole story.
But I wasn’t ready to confess the niggling doubt in the back of my brain that I’d screwed up—or my suspicion the painting might not be genuine. I slowed as we approached my door, pulling my room key out of my shoulder bag. “Strange.”
“What’s that?” He stopped just behind me as though he were going to see me all the way into my room.
I shook my head, trying to clear it, then pointed at the Do Not Disturb door hanger. “I was sure I’d put it on for housekeeping this?—”
Emmett was in front of me with my room key in his hand before I finished. “Are you sure?”
“I…” My hand hung in the air, as confused about what to do as my brain. “Maybe?”
He held up a finger and pressed his ear to the door. Emmett was normally smooth lines—smiles, crinkled eyes,casual movements. But now? He was sharp angles. He reminded me more of our friend Rav than his usual self.
I glanced around, trying to be subtle in case someone was watching his bizarre behavior. A lump formed slowly in my throat. “You’re being weird.”
His finger remained up, and he closed his eyes.
The lump in my throat grew. What was going on?
After another minute, he opened his eyes. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Why would you?—”
“Security’s tight here, but—” He straightened, the angles shifting back to smooth lines and a lopsided smile. “I was at a hotel in Berlin once, and they accidentally gave a duplicate of my room key to someone else.”
“Seriously?”
Or was he changing the subject?
“That’s why I always use the safety lock.” He chuckled, but it didn’t calm the hairs at my nape, all standing at attention. “Let me go in ahead of you. You know, in case someone’s sleeping in your bed, and they get a little freaked out.”
“Goldilocks?”
He tucked a lock of hair—one that kept falling out of my bun—behind my ear. “You’re the only Goldilocks here. I want to be sure there are no bears inside.”
“I could just be mistaken about the door hanger.” If I didn’t know Emmett half as well as I did, I might have suspected he wanted into my room with me. But that ship had sailed a long, long time ago, and it would never sail again. “I don’t need a white knight.”
“Need? Of course not. But doesn’t every woman want one?”
I scoffed inwardly. If only I could convince myself to be attracted to one of those.
Dante acted like he might be one. I curled the top of the white bakery bag. Ihadn’ttasted the damn macarons.
Emmett’s eyes crinkled. It was slight and brief, but I was sure of it. He turned to the door, waved the card across the lock, and whispered over his shoulder, “Keep your voice down.”
I was so creeped out. What was going on? This wasn’t about duplicate keys. And if he thought someone was inside, wouldn’t he have insisted we call security? Or at least Rav? Scarlett had told me he was in town with Emmett. “What are we?—”
The finger went up again, but he didn’t turn around to look at me. He walked slowly—no, he prowled—along the short hallway to my bedroom. At the bathroom and closet doors, he peered around corners like a detective in a movie. More intense, though. If he’d had a gun, I would have called him James Bond.
I wanted to ask what was going on and why he was acting like this, but the words lodged in my throat with that lump.
As he entered the bedroom, he held up a fist. Like soldiers did in movies. I froze.