Page 69 of Chandelier Enthralled
“To what?”
“The Beverly Majestic.” He tilted his head, and it looked charming “After you.”
This tall guy oozed sensual energy, and I felt an undeniable magnetism that pulled me closer to him. I was close enough to touch his arm if I dared to.
He pulled a cardkey out of his jacket and held it to a panel near the impressive doorway.
The doors glided open, welcoming us in.
We stepped into the expansive foyer, where the very air seemed to be filled with reverence for the majestic lobby.
The doors slid closed behind us with a woosh.
A sense of intrigue morphed into danger—the “fuck around and find out” kind.
The walls were bathed in a blue ethereal light, while beneath our feet, the marble tiles gleamed.Opulent decor exuded extravagance in every corner, every curve, every polished surface.
We stood silently, me getting my bearings and him looking around as though trying to see this setting from my perspective. The reception desk was hauntingly still. No guests mingling. No staff scurrying. No voices or whispers or any sign of life.
We were alone.
“Where is everyone?” I walked on ahead, the burn of his stare penetrating my back as I soaked in the modern luxury that blended with a classic sophistication.
His brooding silence continued to raise the tension. I turned to face him with an accusatory glare. Had he planned on getting us a room?
As though reading my mind he said, “We can talk privately here.”
That placated me a little.
Getting to spend time with him away from the scrutiny of my brother was a good idea.
Finding out more about Greyson was an opportunity I’d not imagined. A thousand questions flooded in, but I’d have to remain guarded before I spilled the accusations about him that I had heard from Chad earlier today. That Greyson was involved in something sinister. And he’d dragged my brother into it, too.
Greyson exuded a quiet confidence from his obvious intellect, and a refined sophistication that resulted in effortless charm. His kind of grace spoke not of arrogance, as though the world itself bent subtly to his will.
He had the demeanor of an artist, like the ones I’d met in New York.
It felt comfortable to be in his company.
From above, a multi-tiered light fixture that mimicked a waterfall showered down on me, and for a split second I flinched at the optical illusion of it striking me.
He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Like it?”
Teasing him, I lifted a shoulder in what was clearly a snub, though I couldn’t look away from the lights reflecting the optical illusion of water falling, the spectacle a dazzling display.
I couldn’t keep this nonchalant attitude for long—it was all too stunning.
“The hotel opens this week.” Sentimentally, he looked around and went to say something but shook his head instead, as though unable to find the words.
“The architecture is…” I tried to find the words.
He narrowed his gaze on me. “No one cares about that.”
“I do,” I said softly.
His lips curved into a smile.
I pointed out the white marble columns with accents, drawing his gaze upward to an expansive ceiling adorned with hand-painted motifs. “See the way that bends, it reminds me of a cathedral.”
