closet door open and retrieves his suitcase from inside.
“What?” I ask.
“Shh…” He pulls out his camera and quickly moves back to his position next to the champagne glasses. “Look over your shoulder again — just as you did before.”
I do as he says, the ends of my lips twitching. “Like this?” I ask.
“Perfect.” The shutter clicks repeatedly as he takes several photos with his black camera.
I think of myself being tied to the bed, blindfolded, with only the eager sound of clicking guiding me in his direction. “What do you do with your photos?” I ask him.
“They’re a private collection,” he says, briefly glancing over the camera.
“Do you take pictures of all the girls you bring up here?”
“Only the worthy ones,” he says.
I take a slow breath and wonder exactly how many of us he considered worthy. I want to ask, but I bite my tongue instead.
“Alice…” Charles slowly lowers the camera to his side and walks over to stand by me next to the window. A bit of moonlight strikes his face. The blue light blends with his eyes, turning them sea green. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I will stop.”
“No…” I shake my head. “Go ahead.”
“You’re sure?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He brings a hand to my cheek and slowly traces a line up my face to the top of my head. His touch tickles my scalp as his fingertips glide along my hair. “Gabby is quite the stylist,” he says.
“Is it that obvious?” I ask, turning away to hide the pinkness rushing to my cheeks.
“You don’t strike me as the type of woman that likes to spend more time than necessary on her looks,” he says. He turns away and sets the camera on the table next to the bed before returning to the drink cart to pick up the champagne glasses.
I cock my head to the side. “Then why send a dress to entice me?” I ask him as he puts a glass in my hand.
Charles grins to one side and takes a seat on the armchair by the window. “To give you one less thing to worry about if you accepted my invitation,” he says. He brings the drink to his lips and takes a sip.
“If?” I ask.
He nods. “Honestly, Alice, I did not expect you to show up tonight.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“I thought I frightened you,” he admits.
I bring the glass to my lips. “What, you’ve never had a girl walk out on you while you were in the other room before?” I pour a little champagne between my lips and relish in the familiar elixir as it tumbles down my throat.
“No,” he answers. “I have not.”
I try to read his face. “I’m sorry if I insulted you,” I say.
“You didn’t.” He takes another sip. “In fact, it only made you more interesting.”
“How?” I can’t stop my smile from taking shape.
He shakes his head once and sets his glass down on the table. “Are you familiar with the myth of Orpheus?” he asks as he stands and drifts in behind me.
I see him reach a hand towards my glass. “The musician,” I answer.
His hand pauses in mid-air and for the second time since we met a look of surprise strike his face. “Go on,” he urges with amused eyes as he takes my champagne glass from me.
“Umm…” I search my memory, sifting through knowledge I learned in high school and never thought I’d need again. “He… traveled to the underworld to save his wife.”
“Eurydice.”
I nod. “She died on their wedding day. Orpheus played music for Hades, who was so impressed he let him travel to the underworld to find her and take her back with him.” Charles floats his hands above my shoulders. His fingertips travel slowly down my back, barely touching my skin. I lose focus for a moment. “But — he wasn’t allowed to look at her until they both reached the upper world. She followed him all the way to surface, but he glanced back at her before she reached the top and…”
“She was lost forever,” he finishes, his lips gliding against my shoulder as he speaks.
“Yes,” I say. My eyes
“What?” I ask.
“Shh…” He pulls out his camera and quickly moves back to his position next to the champagne glasses. “Look over your shoulder again — just as you did before.”
I do as he says, the ends of my lips twitching. “Like this?” I ask.
“Perfect.” The shutter clicks repeatedly as he takes several photos with his black camera.
I think of myself being tied to the bed, blindfolded, with only the eager sound of clicking guiding me in his direction. “What do you do with your photos?” I ask him.
“They’re a private collection,” he says, briefly glancing over the camera.
“Do you take pictures of all the girls you bring up here?”
“Only the worthy ones,” he says.
I take a slow breath and wonder exactly how many of us he considered worthy. I want to ask, but I bite my tongue instead.
“Alice…” Charles slowly lowers the camera to his side and walks over to stand by me next to the window. A bit of moonlight strikes his face. The blue light blends with his eyes, turning them sea green. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I will stop.”
“No…” I shake my head. “Go ahead.”
“You’re sure?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He brings a hand to my cheek and slowly traces a line up my face to the top of my head. His touch tickles my scalp as his fingertips glide along my hair. “Gabby is quite the stylist,” he says.
“Is it that obvious?” I ask, turning away to hide the pinkness rushing to my cheeks.
“You don’t strike me as the type of woman that likes to spend more time than necessary on her looks,” he says. He turns away and sets the camera on the table next to the bed before returning to the drink cart to pick up the champagne glasses.
I cock my head to the side. “Then why send a dress to entice me?” I ask him as he puts a glass in my hand.
Charles grins to one side and takes a seat on the armchair by the window. “To give you one less thing to worry about if you accepted my invitation,” he says. He brings the drink to his lips and takes a sip.
“If?” I ask.
He nods. “Honestly, Alice, I did not expect you to show up tonight.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“I thought I frightened you,” he admits.
I bring the glass to my lips. “What, you’ve never had a girl walk out on you while you were in the other room before?” I pour a little champagne between my lips and relish in the familiar elixir as it tumbles down my throat.
“No,” he answers. “I have not.”
I try to read his face. “I’m sorry if I insulted you,” I say.
“You didn’t.” He takes another sip. “In fact, it only made you more interesting.”
“How?” I can’t stop my smile from taking shape.
He shakes his head once and sets his glass down on the table. “Are you familiar with the myth of Orpheus?” he asks as he stands and drifts in behind me.
I see him reach a hand towards my glass. “The musician,” I answer.
His hand pauses in mid-air and for the second time since we met a look of surprise strike his face. “Go on,” he urges with amused eyes as he takes my champagne glass from me.
“Umm…” I search my memory, sifting through knowledge I learned in high school and never thought I’d need again. “He… traveled to the underworld to save his wife.”
“Eurydice.”
I nod. “She died on their wedding day. Orpheus played music for Hades, who was so impressed he let him travel to the underworld to find her and take her back with him.” Charles floats his hands above my shoulders. His fingertips travel slowly down my back, barely touching my skin. I lose focus for a moment. “But — he wasn’t allowed to look at her until they both reached the upper world. She followed him all the way to surface, but he glanced back at her before she reached the top and…”
“She was lost forever,” he finishes, his lips gliding against my shoulder as he speaks.
“Yes,” I say. My eyes
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