The Brightest Star

Chapter 4

I follow Marco down the never ending halls. Men wearing crisp suits are stationed throughout the building. They each have guns at their hips, visible only when their jackets shift. Marco finally stops and gestures to a white door.

"Ladies first," he grins.

I step forward and swing open the door. A gasp falls from my lips and my eyes go wide at the sight before me.

The entire room is filled with books. There's tall bookshelves built into each wall; the only exception being a row of large windows. The shelves are neatly stacked and a rolling ladder rests against one wall.

There are two arm chairs and a plush couch in the middle of the room. A dark wood coffee table sits in front of the couch and there are a few magazines there. The vaulted ceiling has ornate decor and a sparkling chandelier.

It's like a fucking fairytale.

"Alright," Marco says and the door shuts, "I brought you to the library so it's time for you to answer some questions."

"What do you want to know?" I ask, only half paying attention. I run the tips of my fingers along the spines of the books. There's such a huge array and not only in English. There's something special about reading classic books in the language the author spoke.

"Let's start with the basics, shall we?" he offers.

I glance at him over my shoulder, "sure. Ask away."

"How old are you?" he asks, sitting on one of the chairs.

"Twenty two," I take a book from the shelf and flip through it, "what about you?"

"Uh," he stutters slightly, like I caught him off guard, "I- um, I'm twenty seven."

"Cool," I chirp as I put the book back in its rightful place. I can't quite figure out how this library is categorized. It's certainly not the Dewey decimal system but it's also not alphabetical.

"What do you do?" Marco asks.

"I graduated college yesterday," I inform him, adding, "but I've been working part time as a barista for a while."

"Educated women are hot," he chuckles.

I roll my eyes, "so are silent men."

He laughs at that and I continue to look around.

"So, how do you know Dominic?" he asks. I can tell by the tone in his voice that that's the question he's been itching to ask.

"He was friends with my brother when we were kids," I shrug, "the three of us did everything together."

"You call him Dom," Marco states.

"I do," I confirm simply. Oh shit, the books are organized by author.

"Why did you kiss him at breakfast?" he asks. I pause, brows furrowed and hand half extended. I slowly turn to face him.

"What?"

"At breakfast," he reiterates, "you kissed his cheek."

"Oh," a breathy laugh falls from my lips, "yeah, I've always been like that with him."

"All touchy feely?" his nose scrunches up.

"I guess you could call it that," I smile, "I don't like missing opportunities to show the people I care about how I feel. You never know what could happen."

"You sound like someone who's seen some shit," he says. He looks me up and down with narrowed eyes.

"I have," I reply, "just because I have nice hair and wear pretty dresses doesn't mean I haven't seen shit. I grew up poor, surrounded by criminals."