Love in the Dark (LarssonSiblingsSeries#1)

CHAPTER NINETEEN - EDWARD

EDWARD

The traffic coming back into Grimsby is horrendously slow. It's rush hour and there seems to be police directing traffic in another direction because of a crash between the junction into town. I indicate and push my way past a car that can't seem to follow simple instructions, ending up on the other side of the roundabout with the rest of the cars following me.

It's a slip road that leads to the business park, close to the gym, the big building taking up half of the space. A sign at the side of the road catches my eye: FURNITURE SALE - UP TO 50% OFF!

I can see two brown leather armchairs sitting happily in the display window of the shop and it gives me an idea. I pull off at the next left turn and go over the ramp towards the car park.

"Hello there, sir," says the loud voice of the shop assistant when I step through the door. It gives me a jolt. "It's so good to see you today."

It's so good to see anybody, more like. The building is empty of people with the sounds of an eighties pop song playing in the background, probably her only company. I give her a polite smile and head straight for the armchairs, thinking that they look way more impressive up close.

She's hot on my tail. "I'm Harriett. Can I help you with anything today?"

I point to the chairs. "I want these two."

"Oh," she says, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Good choice. These are crafted in Sardinia from the finest leather. They're totally worth the money. We only buy a small amount to keep them exclusive."

I'm not here for the business pitch. You could be stupid and see the quality.

I nod. "How much for both?"

When she winces at the question, I know they must be expensive. I look around for a price tag, but there isn't one. "They're one-thousand-pounds each."

Jesus, okay.

I try to cool my expression when she steps away from me. "Are they included in the sale?"

She shakes her head. "No, sir, because they're a collector's piece. Everyone who buys Vera Pelle knows that it never goes on sale."

My eyes survey the leather-scented room, noticing that they have some nice pieces in here, different kinds of armchairs and big beanbags, but my heart is already set on these ones. The four-poster oak wood bed catches my eye, though, and I can't stop my brain from thinking that sex would be incredible on it.

I touch the Vera Pelle armchair, let my fingers sink into the softness of it, and turn back at Harriet. "How soon can they be delivered?"

Her eyes light up like she can sense that she already made the sale. "We can do next day delivery, or whenever is best for you."

My eyes won't leave that bed. It's a fucking masterpiece. I leave Harriett to tread across the store towards it, wondering if she will have a backstory for this bit of furniture too. The wood is varnished, smooth and cold to touch.

"This was carved by an autistic carpenter in the south of France."

Of course, it was. I hold back the rumble in my chest to give the posts a good shake. They're robust enough to take my weight and you could probably tie something around them. An image that I do not need, nor want filters through my mind and I have to put a stop to it before I embarrass myself in front of this stranger.

"And the price?" I reply, having to clear my throat when my tone becomes clogged.

Harriett motions to the headboard. "It took him twenty days to carve the daffodil flowers and bumblebees, so you can only imagine the time and effort that went into making it."