Knight-in-Arms - Secrets: (BWWM Interracial Paranormal Shifter Romance Part One) (2 page)

Rochelle said ‘bye’ to her brother and put the phone down. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of Nico’s warning. If she’d heard it from the comfort of her own house, she would have thought it was nonsense. Now, in the potential lair of danger, she still thought it was nonsense but a nagging part of her told her to be wary and on guard. Perhaps she should wait for Nico outside…

She glanced at the garden. Large drops of rain slashed across the window. Her heart sank. She couldn’t wait half an hour in that; her hair would be ruined and she’d be drenched within thirty seconds, let alone thirty minutes. She sighed and went to find Mr Knight.

Her eyes, used to the light filtering in through the living room window, took a while to grow accustomed to the dark. She noticed two rooms to her right: one at the end of the hallway and one next to the living room. The same dull, grey light of the living room spilled from the room at the far end but the one next to the living room was closed. No, she wouldn’t pry… But even as she thought those words, she found herself approaching the door. It stared menacingly down at her. She reached for the tarnished brass knob. It was as cold as a corpse in the palm of her hand. She turned it. The door didn’t yield. It was locked.

“What are you doing?”

Rochelle snatched her hand from the knob and spun round.

“I was looking for you”. It wasn’t a lie. She had been looking for him; she’d just decided to take the scenic route…

Either way, Mr Knight didn’t look too pleased.

“I think you should go” he said.

“My brother’s coming to get me”, she said, “And it’s raining outside. Could I…You wouldn’t mind if I sit…or even just stand here ’til he arrives?”

Mr Knight furrowed his eyebrows and looked at her with a hint of bemusement.

“You can sit” he said. He gestured towards the living room. She went inside and sat down in the arm chair. She guessed from where the book was positioned that he’d been sitting on the sofa.

Mr Knight threw himself down in the exact spot, picked up the book and carried on reading.

A clock somewhere in the room ticked in silence. Rochelle looked around the living room several times, and looked out at the garden before watching the rain fall onto the window. Eventually, her eyes rested on him. His straight dark hair tumbled over his thick dark eyebrows and into his eyes. He was actually really good-looking, Rochelle had to admit. She admired the way that the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to just below his elbow. She had a thing about men with rolled-up sleeves. It made them look stylish, sophisticated, in control.

He looked up as though he had heard her. He had pretty eyes too – a kind of honey gold. She smiled at him. He didn’t smile back.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Xavier” he answered. Hmm, X stood for Xavier. Unusual, but it suited him somehow.

“I’m Rochelle” she said. He inclined his head in acknowledgement, but said nothing.

“So, how long have you been living here?” she continued.

“A few months”.

“Don’t you find it dull sometimes?”

“Not really”.

“I’ve lived here all my life”, admitted Rochelle, “It’s so quiet I had to get out”. She smiled as she looked at him but the smile was one of nostalgia – lounging on a Mediterranean beach at sunset, riding a rickshaw through Tokyo, partying in Las Vegas with her friends…

“Quiet’s what I need right now” he said.

“But things are so uneventful here.” Rochelle sighed. Sometimes, she longed for pirate ships, new worlds on other planets, fairies at the bottom of the garden, anything anti-mundane.

“‘Uneventful’ is girls not invading your living room after locking themselves out”.

Rochelle shifted uncomfortably in the armchair at her stupidity.

“Sorry” she said.

A silence began to freeze between them.

“Tea?” asked Xavier.

“Oh, yes, please”.

He must have put the kettle on while she was calling Nico as he came back presently with a tray of tea and milk and sugar. He placed it on the coffee table. He passed one of the cups and saucers to her and went back to his book. He should go in the Guinness Book of World Records for his scintillating conversation. The thought made Rochelle smile to herself.

The two of them sat in silence – Rochelle sipping her tea and Xavier pretending she wasn’t there – until the doorbell rang and startled her. Mindy barked at the door.

It turned out to be Nico. He was so eager for her to leave, he practically dragged her away. She thanked Xavier for the tea and for letting her stay.

“It was nice meeting you” she said.

“The pleasure was all mine”.

*              *              *

Rochelle was outside Xavier’s door again.

Yesterday, her mum had had a new key cut for her and when Rochelle went to add it to her key ring, she discovered her keys weren’t there; they were in Xavier’s house. Of course they were. She was being such a scatterbrain lately. It felt like her mind had stayed in Japan and refused to come back with her to England.

Rochelle could hear the notes of a piano. Forget tinkling with the ivories, he was hammering at them, playing something fast and furious. And loud. He couldn’t hear the doorbell and she’d already rung twice. If he could hear Mindy’s barking, he was ignoring her.

There was a sudden lull in the music. She rang one last time, thinking of coming back later. The piano stopped and the next moment. He opened the door.

“Uneventful indeed” he greeted her.

“Sorry, I think I left my keys here” Rochelle said, aware she was disturbing him yet again.

“You did”. He stepped aside to let her in.

She waited in the hallway while he fetched her keys. His fingers touched hers as he placed them in her hand. She looked up at him and he looked back at her. The colour of his eyes was so captivating she felt she couldn’t look away.

“You were playing the piano”.

“Yes” he said, still looking into her eyes.

“Would you play something for me?”

He turned and disappeared back into the living room. She followed him.

“What would you like me to play?”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’ll be right back”.

She raced home.

The book was dusty. It had been a birthday present when she was a teenager. There was a piece she liked in there from a romantic Italian chocolate advert but she’d already given up playing by then.

Without the dust, the book looked brand new, which was unsurprising because of course, she’d never played it.

“Really?” Xavier scoffed when she got back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s ‘chick-sic’, isn’t it?”

“Chick-sic?”

“Chick music”.

But he played it anyway.

Compared to the piece he’d been playing earlier, this was slow and sentimental. The way he played it was beautiful. Rochelle sat next to him on the piano stool, admiring the way his fingers moved expertly over the keys, powerful yet soft. When he came to the end of a page, she leaned across and turned it over to the next but she was so engrossed in his playing that there were times when she nearly forgot and her shoulder brushed his in her haste. She could listen to him play all day, every day.

He finished the piece and stopped playing. They sat in silence as the last note died away. She felt mesmerised, like a cobra before a snake charmer. Not quite herself. Perhaps that was why she suddenly invited him out to dinner tomorrow evening.

“Dinner?” he asked. The way he questioned it made it sound like a ridiculous idea. As she returned to her normal self, she realised it was. Stupid. Stupid. What an idiot.

“To thank you for letting me stay yesterday”.

“That’s not really necessary…”

But luck must have been with her that day because he accepted nonetheless.

*              *              *

“You’re not going” said Nico the next evening.

“Well, too late because I am”. Rochelle applied the finishing touches to her lipstick. She was looking forward to tonight. Except for Xavier’s house, which didn’t really count because it was just up the road, she hadn’t been out anywhere in three days.

“And your skirt is too short”.

“Chill, Nico. It’s not like it’s the Victorian times”.

“I don’t want him getting any ideas” said Nico.

“It’s not about the length of the skirt; it’s about how it works with the rest of the outfit”. Rochelle thought she was dressed quite conservatively, considering – no plunging necklines or sheer tights or anything remotely sexy. However, she was quietly proud of her curves and what she was wearing made them stand out.

“I don’t trust him”.

Rochelle turned to her brother.

“Look, he hasn’t got his wife locked away in the basement…”

“I don’t believe that; it’s just a rumour”, said Nico, “But there’s something not right about him”,

The doorbell rang. He was here.

“Let’s have this conversation later” she said. She looked herself over in the mirror one last time, snatched her bag up from the dressing table and went downstairs.

Xavier was wearing a black suit and tie, which accentuated his tall figure, and his hands were in his pockets with a relaxed sort of grace. He was talking to her dad by the door. Awkward. She found many people were intimidated by the stern-looking black man, and had trouble seeing through to his funny personality. However, the awkwardness this time was only in Rochelle’s mind. Xavier seemed at ease. He was smiling. They even laughed.

As she got further down the stairs, they both turned to her. Xavier’s gaze lingered over her outfit before looking back up at her. He smiled.

“Shall we go?” he asked. He offered her his arm. She took it. He said his parting remarks to her dad and they left. So far, this was working out better than expected.

“To be honest, when I asked, I didn’t think you’d come” said Rochelle. They were sitting in the restaurant – Italian, since it was Rochelle’s favourite.

“I wasn’t going to” Xavier admitted.

“What changed your mind?” she asked.

“Who can resist a free meal?” he said dryly.

“That can’t be the real reason!” exclaimed Rochelle.

Xavier smiled. He reached for his wine glass and took a sip but didn’t answer.

“You know”, she said, “I actually don't know that much about you. I know you like reading and playing the piano and you have the cutest dog, but what about your family and stuff?”

Xavier leaned forward in his chair and stroked his wine glass.

“I have a younger brother” he said, “We used to get into lots of trouble together when we were younger. We still do, occasionally”.

“No way!” cried Rochelle, “You seem much too sensible”.

Xavier chuckled. Even his laugh was attractive.