Androphobia

xxvii. dreamy night

Wrapping the duvet tighter around me, I stepped away from the painting and towards the grand staircase. I peered over the bannister. What I expected to find was the beautiful man lounging on one of the sofas or perhaps in deep slumber, but all I found was an abandoned, crumpled blanket on the settee and dead silence. Frowning, I contemplated exploring some more and then carefully waded down the stairs.

I reached the landing and examined the dark, empty space of the living room and kitchen. Where was Synn hiding?

My answer came to me in the form of a faint murmur and I turned my head. One thing I realised was that Synn's penthouse was far larger than I'd expected or even realised: as I followed the murmuring sound, I discovered a maze of hallways and doors, each one appearing more grand than the last. I was grateful to live comfortably at home but this, this was a whole other level. I wondered what could be lurking behind those doors.

A door leaking golden light caught my attention and I stopped in front of it. Poking my head forward, the source of the sound came into view and I found Synn's large form leaning against a black desk, one arm folded over his chest and one hand holding a phone to his ear. Through the stretched material of his white tee, I could just about glimpse the bandages snaking around his torso. His tattooed arms bulged, sleeves snug against his biceps and subconsciously tensed as the Spanish man spoke in his mother tongue. My eyes flickered over his tousled, black hair. What surprised me most, however, was a pair of glasses framing his eyes as he turned to skim over a paper on his desk.

He was talking fast, I didn't know to whom, but when I caught sight of the sticky note I'd scribbled on depicting the leader of Elusion, I figured what it was about. My stomach churned at the thought.

A stray footstep betrayed me, making the softest sound, and I bit down on my lip but Synn had already heard. He raised his head and eyed the gap in the door for a long moment. A second later, his phone call finished and he was setting his phone on the desk.

My heart thundered as he approached the door and pulled it open, revealing my huddled frame and wide, guilty eyes.

"What's this?" he said huskily. His mouth pulled into a sly grin and he bent down, placing his hands on his knees. "Was my little angel spying on me?"

"No, no I wasn't! I was just looking for you," I explained as a steady flush clambered my cheeks. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, aware of my bare legs. "You weren't on the sofa."

"I see," he nodded.

"I didn't know you wear glasses."

As if just realising, he raised his hand to one of the handles and removed them. "They're for reading. I don't wear them much."

"They're pretty."

His ice-eyes caught mine and I pulled my lower lip between my teeth, heart beating harder at the sight of him.

"They make you look pretty," I mumbled. "You should wear them more."

"Should I?"

I nodded my head.

"Because my baby says?"

I nodded my head.

"What happens if another girl thinks I'm pretty too?"

I stopped and stared at him. My brows pulled together with the force of a magnet. I never thought I was a jealous person. My parents had always taught me to share and be kind, even to my enemies, but the thought of another girl seeing Synn the way that I did, looking at the gangleader with desire and infatuation - it had my chest burning with an unfamiliar emotion. Before I knew it, my hand was reaching out and plucking the pair of glasses from Synn, then hiding them under my blanket.