Page 140 of Chandelier Enthralled
At first, I had felt guilty that we’d left the party at the hotel, but now, those feelings had faded into oblivion.
Our first time making love.We were passionately kissing as we stood close to his bed. It was everything I wanted and needed it to be. My heart surged with happiness—he had finally realized that this magnetic pull between us couldn’t be denied.
And now I was where I was meant to be—in his arms.
It came in a rush.
At first like an ache in my belly, like my mind refused to allow me peace, conjuring grief, as though the memory of Hugo had invaded my space,ourspace.
I pulled away, covering my face with my hands, horrified that Hugo had gatecrashed my thoughts. I still wasn’t over the pain he’d caused me.
When I looked at Greyson, I could see he had read my expression. He was glancing around the bedroom as though shocked and confused by his actions.
Pressing my palm to my chest, I tried to convey my reaction had nothing to do with him.
He shook his head, stepping back. “Willa, I…”
“No, it’s not you,” I blurted out. “It’s…” I searched for the words as I struggled for air. “What he did…”
Greyson reached out to comfort me but then withdrew his hand just as quickly. “Hugo?”
I nodded, annoyed with my ex, annoyed with myself for allowing these wayward thoughts to encroach on this special moment.
“Look,” he said calmly. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
He turned and walked briskly toward the door.
I wanted to say, “Don’t go.”
But the words didn’t come, and his leaving so suddenly felt jarring to my soul.
I was left alone in his bedroom.
I had blown my only chance of being with him.
Tears stung my eyes.
I had convinced myself something was going to happen. It was the way he had smiled my way in the car. The way he’d squeezed my hand to comfort me. The way he’d wrapped me in his tuxedo jacket, sending tingles down my spine. Our closeness brought a mutual attraction impossible to resist.
Yet he had just walked out—walked away from me.
Back at the Beverly Majestic, he’d shown me how sensual we could be together, but all that slow build up had deflated with my reticence. It had absolutely nothing to do with Greyson.
Disappointment overwhelmed me. Part of me had hoped he might eradicate this residual pain caused by Hugo. Some part of me had hoped we would becomemore.
I left the bedroom and went downstairs, finding his home illuminated by the garden lighting.
Touring the ground floor, I strolled from room to room trying to get a sense of who he was—not to spy, but to find something to put me off this man and cure this obsession. Because he was annoyingly perfect.
Everything was pristine. Furniture comfy. His home a striking blend of futuristic design and nostalgia, with bold colors alongside welcoming touches like the velvet cushions and that large Lovesac I wanted to hurl myself onto.
Yet at the same time it felt like stepping into a time capsule from decades ago, where the promise of the future collided with a more carefree era. The atmosphere wasn’t comforting the way houses with happy memories could be. The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was thick with something like a dark tragedy.
Who are you, Greyson Grantchester?
Looking around, taking everything in, there was a sense that someone was waiting for something. Or maybe I was overthinking it.
A photo hung crooked on the wall, two parents and a child. The faces had expressions like echoes of joy, now since faded. The boy in the portrait was a young Greyson, perhaps around ten. But I sensed there had been distance between them all, a disconnect.
