Sure, baby. That sounds cool. -Skye.
Meeting a couple of strangers and playing nice after a hard day of work? Not my cup of tea. But I cheered up when I remembered the book Jasper bought for me and figured I would sneak off and read some when nobody paid attention.
Chapter 32
Skye
I gawked at the sight of the large house rising in front of me as Jasper drove us up the driveway, following the GPS address Cole's friend/partner had texted earlier. Damn. His place was huge. It was not a house but almost like a mansion. There was even a fountain at the entrance.
"Are you sure he's just an architect?" I asked Cole and he did not answer because he looked just as shocked as I was.
Jasper, on the other hand, appeared unimpressed as he got out of the car. We had mostly been silent throughout the half hour long drive to Pavia, with Cole offering bits of information about his partner. I suspected Jasper hated the thought of a threesome outing as much as I did now. It was too much pressure trying to maintain a modicum of aloofness when all we wanted to do was reach out to each other.
He looked amazing in a white dress shirt and jeans, his blond hair neatly styled, and so did Cole with his black sweater and slacks and those glasses. Between them, I felt very plain in my blue and white striped dress and white sandals with my hair held up in a ponytail.
Cole's friend, Armaan, came outside to escort us and he was busy talking to Cole and Jasper after the introductions as he walked us inside so I was free to check him out. I mean, wow. Who wouldn't? Cole never mentioned his business partner was so gorgeous. I bet he made a lot of money by modelling or something on the side. Hence, the mansion.
We entered a spacious living room with apricot-coloured sofas and I gratefully sunk into one with Cole pressed to one side of me and my purse stuck to my other side holding precious cargo.
Right away, I found out Armaan was into soccer. There was this gigantic poster of Italy's national soccer team along one wall, some trophies with soccer balls, soccer ball figurines and fixtures and the owner himself wore a blue soccer Jersey with jeans, looking extremely handsome and attractive as he passed drinks around and chatted almost non-stop about every topic under the planet. His voice was such you would never get tired of hearing it.
I tried not to drool but I was pretty confident Cole wouldn't blame me if I did.
"Oh, good, you're here," our host said all of a sudden, looking towards the staircase. "Guys, this is Jas, my wife. I should mention she was already married to an inanimate object when I became her husband. Not that I mind. I mean, I can compete with a laptop no problem."
The wife stuck her tongue out at him and I gripped Cole's hand so hard he hissed.
"Skye?"
"It's her. Oh, shit. Oh my God. Oh. My. God. Why didn't you tell me his wife is Crystal Freaking Reynolds?" I asked him in a whisper while I stared at her slack jawed.
Cole chuckled next to me and squeezed my hand back. "Surprise."
It really was her. My favourite YA fantasy author although she had also written a romance novel and suspense thriller as well. I would know her anywhere since I followed her on all of her social media accounts and also went to one of her book signings in Milan the previous year. She was a huge deal in the book world.
Moreover, her exotic beauty and arresting, intelligent aura was unmistakable.
My literary idol smiled at Jasper and Cole when Armaan made the introductions while shaking their hands and then paused when she turned to me and caught the way I was staring at her.
"I'm sorry. I'm a huge fan," I blurted out. Wow, Skye. Way to go. Subtle. Smooth.
Crystal or Jas did not seem to mind my blunder. She extended a slim, manicured hand and shook mine while I stood there numbly.
"Hello, Skye. Always nice to meet a fan," she said smoothly, her dark eyes seeming to see into the depths of a person's soul.
I laughed nervously while she retreated to settle down by her husband's side. I already knew Crystal Reynolds was her pseudonym. She wanted to keep her private life and true identity out of the public eye. I had not even been aware that she was married or lived in Pavia. Her social media was purely about her work. It was amazing to see her at her home and learn how she truly lived and what she was like in person.
She was very quiet but her husband seemed to do her share of the talking, most of it regarding architecture and soccer games, occasionally about his desert home in Amira, a country in the Middle East. She also seemed to be absolutely enamoured with her husband and he with her because though he spoke to us attentively, his hand remained pressed to her thigh caressing it in intervals and his eyes glimmered with a mixture of lust and adoration whenever he glanced at her.
I honestly forgot all about escaping or reading until after dinner which I learned was prepared by Armaan himself because, of course, he was the perfect male specimen and, of course, he was a great cook. We had ravioli, lasagne, braised lamb shanks, treacle tarts and prawn cocktail.
Then Armaan loudly asked Jasmine if she wanted to go hide in her 'Batcave' now and I was reminded of Jasper and his darkroom whenever he disappeared into it for long periods of time.
Jasmine rolled her eyes at her husband but stood up anyway, aiming a look