Kiss of Crimson Samantha Coville (best short books to read .TXT) 📖

bells on a cold winter day. “Jeans and a T-shirt. Yay or nay?”

“That’ll be fine. See you soon.”

As soon as the sun went down, I ventured out and picked up an inquisitive Eloise, who was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and a pair of jeans that hugged her curves.

I was going to have a hard time keeping my eyes on the road, that was for damn sure. Over the past few weeks, I’d seen Eloise relax around me more and more, the two of us becoming comfortable in each other’s presence.

“I guess no matter how much I ask you, you’re not going to tell me.”

“You would guess correctly.” I winked. “But if you must ask, this has something to do with a favorite topic of yours.”

Tapping her lip with a forefinger, she looked up, her brow furrowed. “A favorite topic of mine…”

Chuckling softly, I revved out of the driveway and southbound.

The drive wasn’t long, maybe about a half hour or so, peppered with the occasional comment from Eloise about a particular dog in another car or a funny billboard.

Normally, this kind of inane chatter would have made me want to undo my passenger’s seat belt and then stomp on the brake.

Normally.

But nothing about Madame Hart’s daughter was remotely normal.

I found myself laughing along with her, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Being with her, that is.

As if it was something that I had done a million times over… and would do for another million times.

But too soon, I drove into Sunset Grove’s gated community, with mansions that were even more stately than Eloise’s, all of them with their own security guards and fences covered with the most expensive security systems.

My destination was a large four story behemoth of a mansion at the end of a cul-de-sac, the house barely visible behind an eight-foot tall wrought-iron fence and a thick copse of towering oak trees.

Eloise let out a small sound of appreciation. “What an absolutely lovely house.”

I smiled. “Wait until you meet the owner and see what’s inside.”

Coming to a stop next to the intercom, I pressed the button.

“Arden de Charpentier, here to see Lady Beatrix.”

The muffled response could’ve been in Hindi for all I could tell, but the gates clicked open and slowly moved aside so I could drive in.

Beatrix Houlihan awaited us outside the front doors, a stately butler supporting her with a hand at her bony elbow.

“Arden, my boy!” she crowed in her high-pitched voice as she tottered forward to give me a hug. “It has been far too long since you’ve shown your face around here.”

She smelled like rose water and cookies, and I returned her embrace gently. “I’m sorry, Beatrix. I’ll make sure to come by more regularly. Work has been keeping me busy.”

She tut-tutted, patting me on the back as I withdrew. “Benedict is working you too hard. I really ought to have some words with the man. He’s also a lad who hasn’t been to visit me recently.”

I made sure Eloise wasn’t yet within earshot. She still thought I was an investor, and I’d kept my master’s name out of conversations in case she knew who her mother’s competitors were.

“Well, I do apologize on Jardin’s behalf, but…” I stood aside and made a little elegant bow to Eloise. “Please allow me to introduce Miss Eloise Hart. She is my guest this evening.”

“Oh!” Beatrix’s wrinkled lips formed a perfect o as she looked at the dark-haired woman standing somewhat shyly behind me. “My dear, what an absolute pleasure to meet you. You must be a very special young lady. Arden has never brought a guest before.”

I observed the interaction between the eighty-three-year-old former Hollywood starlet and a woman who was probably young enough to be her great granddaughter, and was pleasantly surprised to find that Eloise had an easy nature about her, speaking with enthusiasm with Beatrix as Beatrix led her into the house, the butler motioning me into the home with an arm folded across his waist.

Beatrix’s place was rather Spartanly furnished, but every bit of furniture and piece of art was of impeccable taste and very, very expensive.

We came to a stop before a set of doors at the end of the hallway in the east wing and Beatrix struck a pose, for a moment looking every bit of that elegant Hollywood star who had been the leading lady to every big name star a few decades prior.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

Eloise looked back at me with an excited grin. “I don’t know what it is!”

I did.

When Beatrix opened the doors with a dramatic sweep of her arms, I turned slightly to get a better look of Eloise’s face.

Her eyes went rounder than dinner plates as she slowly entered the massive three-floor library, all three walls stuffed from ceiling to floor with books, the fourth wall open to a stunning rose garden that was in full bloom.

All in all, it made quite a pretty sight.

“Oh, my…” whispered Eloise, hands rising up to her lips.

Beatrix cackled happily as she linked her elbow through Eloise’s and led her around the library that was about the size of the entire Hart residence.

The butler bowed, excusing himself to dinner preparations, and I took a seat on a nearby armchair, getting far too much enjoyment from the absolutely stunned look on Eloise’s face.

I don’t think she heard a single word of the old woman who showed her the various ladders and staircases that ran up and down the walls and dragged her to the several display cases that contained an original Gutenberg Bible, one of Da Vinci’s folios, and a complete first edition of Audubon’s The Birds of America.

Beatrix had been especially pleased with that purchase; it had cost her almost ten million dollars at Sotheby’s three years ago.

A maid came by with a Wedgwood tea set for the two ladies and a glass of O Negative for me.

Beatrix really was an amazing hostess. Even Madame Hart could learn a few lessons from