Page 27 of Kept

“This is the best steak I’ve ever had,” I admit.

“I think they are by far the best in the city,” he agrees, topping off his own glass. The food, and honestly the wine, are doing wonders for my overall mood.

“Do you enjoy it? Dancing?”

“I love it.”

“You must have started very young to be as accomplished as you are now,” he observes.

“Yes. Though it helps that my mother was a ballet teacher. But I moved to a boarding school for dancers a little bit after my twelfth birthday.”

“Must have been hard on your family. And you for that matter.”

“Not really. My parents were dead by then.”

He pauses. “I’m sorry. An accident?

I shake my head. “I’d rather not discuss it.”

He nods. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know. It’s fine. But let’s just… not.” We both eat for a bit in silence. Despite the rather awkward conversation, the silence is oddly comfortable.

His phone rings. He looks at the caller ID and rolls his eyes. “Fucking hell. Please excuse me.”

He steps away from the table and wanders to the other side of the roof. I watch him pace back and forth with the phone at his ear. His face looks irritated, but his posture is relaxed, and his voice is quiet. He’s more casual than I’ve seen him before, just a black shirt stretched over his shoulders and biceps and a pair of dark jeans. He turns to make another lap, and I realize I’ve been staring at the man’s ass. I feel the blush warm my face, and I’m pretty sure he noticed, even from that distance, by the smug grin on his face.

Christ on a cupcake.

I top off my wine and walk to the other side of the garden.

It’s gorgeous here, despite the autumn chill in the air. Some of the planters have gone dormant, but others are still in peak form. There is a wrought iron canopy covered in climbing vines, with small white lights intertwined. Music drifts from hidden speakers. The entire roof is surrounded by a fence of tall, thick glass. I watch the city lights begin to click on. The ships moving along the Hudson are glowing, the lights’ reflections rippling on the surface of the water. The rush hour traffic has finally died down. If I squint, I can see the top of the building I danced in last night.

I sense his approach.

“You’ve got a killer view,” I admit.

“Yeah. This is one of my favorite places in the house. What were you thinking about just now?”

I point off in the distance. “Last night I was dancing there. Now, I’m here. It feels like a lifetime ago.” Between the heaters and the wine, I’m feeling warm and relaxed. I turn around, lean my back against the glass, and look at him. “Why am I here?”

He steps closer.

I tilt my face to look up at him, to meet his gaze.

“You saw something you shouldn’t have.” He says it so damn matter-of-factly.

“No, I didn’t,” I whisper.

“No lies, kitten.” Then his eyes flash. His voice an octave lower, he whispers, “But honestly, I really hope you’re bad at following rules.” His gaze is molten, and I can feel my heart pounding.

“I won’t say anything,” I promise.

He sips his wine, keeping those intense eyes locked on me. “You’re not the only problem in that regard.”

Shit.

“He didn’t see anything,” I reply, trying to seem collected and calm.

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