Part 21 (2/2)
What does a man like Asher Bishop have in his closet?
She opened the door and stuck her head in. It was an enormous s.p.a.ce, one that would make any shopping freak o.r.g.a.s.m. There was a walk way in the center that stretched out at least severn to ten feet. Shelves of shoes, hooks with ties, and clear compartments for other accessories sat on the right. Hanging clothes stood on the right, full of everything any well-dressed man could imagine-designer suits, high-brand sportswear, expensive casual items, and more and more.
In the middle, there was a little string that she pulled. It cast an orangey glow into the s.p.a.cious area.
Rows and rows of suits in various shades of black and gray and navy hung meticulously. Freshly pressed s.h.i.+rts all in color coordinated waves. She fingered the fabric as she moved to the end of the closet.
A long mirror hung on the back of the wall. But something was odd, instead of it remaining stuck all the way to the wall. There was a gap, as if the mirror served more as a door to a compartment.
And that's where I bet, Mr. Bishop keeps all of his p.o.r.n. Hmmmm. What type of naughty things do you hide in your closet?
Walking all the way to the back, she clasped her hands on the edge of the mirror and pulled it back. A black curtain hung behind it. She parted the thick, velvet fabric away. Confusion caught her first, than curiosity.
What is that?
Thin metal poles hung in front of her. She dragged her gaze down to their bottoms, and gasped when she spotted their sharpened tips. They sparkled in the closet's dim lightening.
Arrows. No. f.u.c.k. No. Those are not arrows.
Fear pumped through her veins. A booming sounded in her ears. She glanced back, real quick, and strained to hear if Asher was coming.
Arrows. Those are arrows. Why are those arrows. f.u.c.k.
She shook, so hard her teeth chattered. Her curiosity bit at her and she touched one and then pulled back, the sharp edge tearing at her flesh. Blood pooled at the tiny wound and droplets landed on the white carpet by her feet.
No. G.o.d, please no.
She was all alone, in the back of Asher's closet, and he kept arrows there. Checking behind her once again, she risked a further look, lifted her s.h.i.+vering fingers, pushed away the arrows, and touched the dark object laying behind them.
A polished, steel bow.
Next to it sat a bag of arrows, the silver tips sparkling.
No... this can't be.
Something compelled her to look away, though she wanted to memorize every inch of what she was seeing, in case she was dreaming. But her eyes gravitated toward something else that hung on a tiny shelf above the arrows.
Black gloves.
No, no, no. This is all wrong.
Asher's whistling sounded behind her, his footsteps came next.
f.u.c.k.
In a rush, she pushed the mirror back, stumbled to the light's rope, pulled it, rushed out of the now dark closet, and breathed hard in and out, as she raced over to the bed.
He has a bow and arrows.
His whistling came closer. He rounded the corner, right before she could get back in the bed. For some reason, she froze right there with her mouth open, unable to say anything.
Why would he have the gloves? I know why.
G.o.d, I know why.
Seventeen.
Cupid
”Is everything okay?” Asher asked.
”Y-yes. Of course. Why wouldn't I be? I'm just fine.” She cleared her throat.
They stood there, and stared at each other.
”What were you doing?” Asher asked.
”What do you mean?”
”Your naked and standing next to the bed.”
”You're naked with a tray of coffee and standing next to the doorway.”
”Okay,” he said.
What's wrong?
”Umm. So. . .” She rushed past him. ”I'll be right back.”
”Where are you going?” He turned around and did his best to not rattle the tray holding both of their cups of coffee.
He'd requested something special from Grace who, for some reason, was beyond ecstatic with Diana staying at the house. She'd even given him an array of delights to take back to her. Along with the two cups of coffee, there were several spices and flavorings. Tiny cups of cinnamon, brown sugar, honey, and caramel. Cubes of chocolate rested on one plate. Tiny pastries and globes of melon sat on another.
A blood red rose lay right at the top of the tray.
”Diana?” Asher called louder as she continued out of the bedroom. ”Diana!”
”Yes?” She paused in the doorway and slowly glanced over her shoulder.
”Where are you going?”
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