Read Online Captured in Croatia by Christine Edwards - Free Book Online
Authors: Christine Edwards
Ads: Link
word he bends and scoops me up into his arms , clearly in a rush. He cuts across the green lawn of the sprawling, rustic country house. The sound of water drums in my ears, so close that I think the house must be built nearly on top of it. It’s looks very old.
I crane my neck to make sense of the imposing two-story structure. It is constructed mostly of smooth, grayish-white, oblong stones, interspersed with a cream-colored mortar. There are several small A-framed dormer windows on the roof that are topped with rounded, deep red terracotta tiles. It is charming, in a romantic country-chic sort of way. Is this Zoran’s home? I wouldn’t have pegged him as its owner. It’s far too lovely.
The wide , heavy front door has to be at least nine feet high. Obviously custom–made, long ago.
Do other people live here?
If the y do, maybe I could convince them to help me escape. Although I can’t imagine anyone defying Zoran.
I want to fight him. I don’t want to be taken inside , but I know if I run, those crazy ass dogs would be on me in a heartbeat. My team will be scouring Zagreb for me, following every scrap of a lead until I turn up. There is absolutely no way they would find me here. Not in a million years. Not without the GPS they installed in my car.
Unlocking the front door , he carries me into an airy foyer. The silence within hangs thick in the air. There is little in the way of décor, with the exception of a beautiful, oversized, carved cherry bench. Overstuffed deep red and black patterned pillows are nestled in each of its corners. A wide, antique silver mirror hangs above it. Once I’m set on my feet, he turns to disarm the shrill, beeping alarm system.
I can’t help but take two steps away from him. In the daylight he is a giant of a man. His tailored suit is merely a polite disguise to help him blend into society. He’s clearly living in the wrong time period, I think, because anyone can see that he is a fierce warrior sprung to life in the twenty-first century.
His chiseled jaw lifts ever so slightly. “Up the stairs.”
Will I ever grow accustomed to his husky, growling voice? In a daze, I turn and climb the wide flight of stairs. My small feet pad silently as I make my ascent to God-knows-where. The wood on the floors is ancient and weathered but immaculately clean and quite pretty . How old is this place?
I come to a dead stop at the top of the staircase and stare in awe. Unless it was built with this sprawling, open design in mind, it seems as if all the interior walls on the second floor were demolished to create one vast space. It’s the size of at least four large bedrooms rolled into one. Two sets of enormous windows allow for sunlight to spill in, blanketing the distressed wood floors. There’s a large boxy structure built in the center of the space. Through the glass, I can see that it’s a freestanding, oversized shower; the frosted glass wall behind it must hide the rest of the bathroom.
In the right corner of the room rests a massive king-sized bed set in a beautifully carved, dark walnut four-post frame. Stark white sheets and a matching comforter neatly cover the high mattress. Behind the bed, the interior stone wall is at least fifteen feet in height. Stunning. Wood rafters painted a light gray crisscross the ceiling. They give the room a clean, loft-like feel.
This space must be close to fifteen-hundred square feet. As I look around, I note that aside from the bed and the wood floor, just about everything is either white, gray, or glass. Even the wide fireplace mantle is a pale hue, maybe a birch or pine. Cut logs rest neatly in a brown leather sling on the striated marble hearth.
“Follow me.”
He steps around me and strides toward the far side of the vast room. We round the corner to the modern shower that features a foot-wide rainforest showerhead and two limestone benches. Smooth pebbles in shades of soft cream and tan make up the floor of the cavernous space. There
I crane my neck to make sense of the imposing two-story structure. It is constructed mostly of smooth, grayish-white, oblong stones, interspersed with a cream-colored mortar. There are several small A-framed dormer windows on the roof that are topped with rounded, deep red terracotta tiles. It is charming, in a romantic country-chic sort of way. Is this Zoran’s home? I wouldn’t have pegged him as its owner. It’s far too lovely.
The wide , heavy front door has to be at least nine feet high. Obviously custom–made, long ago.
Do other people live here?
If the y do, maybe I could convince them to help me escape. Although I can’t imagine anyone defying Zoran.
I want to fight him. I don’t want to be taken inside , but I know if I run, those crazy ass dogs would be on me in a heartbeat. My team will be scouring Zagreb for me, following every scrap of a lead until I turn up. There is absolutely no way they would find me here. Not in a million years. Not without the GPS they installed in my car.
Unlocking the front door , he carries me into an airy foyer. The silence within hangs thick in the air. There is little in the way of décor, with the exception of a beautiful, oversized, carved cherry bench. Overstuffed deep red and black patterned pillows are nestled in each of its corners. A wide, antique silver mirror hangs above it. Once I’m set on my feet, he turns to disarm the shrill, beeping alarm system.
I can’t help but take two steps away from him. In the daylight he is a giant of a man. His tailored suit is merely a polite disguise to help him blend into society. He’s clearly living in the wrong time period, I think, because anyone can see that he is a fierce warrior sprung to life in the twenty-first century.
His chiseled jaw lifts ever so slightly. “Up the stairs.”
Will I ever grow accustomed to his husky, growling voice? In a daze, I turn and climb the wide flight of stairs. My small feet pad silently as I make my ascent to God-knows-where. The wood on the floors is ancient and weathered but immaculately clean and quite pretty . How old is this place?
I come to a dead stop at the top of the staircase and stare in awe. Unless it was built with this sprawling, open design in mind, it seems as if all the interior walls on the second floor were demolished to create one vast space. It’s the size of at least four large bedrooms rolled into one. Two sets of enormous windows allow for sunlight to spill in, blanketing the distressed wood floors. There’s a large boxy structure built in the center of the space. Through the glass, I can see that it’s a freestanding, oversized shower; the frosted glass wall behind it must hide the rest of the bathroom.
In the right corner of the room rests a massive king-sized bed set in a beautifully carved, dark walnut four-post frame. Stark white sheets and a matching comforter neatly cover the high mattress. Behind the bed, the interior stone wall is at least fifteen feet in height. Stunning. Wood rafters painted a light gray crisscross the ceiling. They give the room a clean, loft-like feel.
This space must be close to fifteen-hundred square feet. As I look around, I note that aside from the bed and the wood floor, just about everything is either white, gray, or glass. Even the wide fireplace mantle is a pale hue, maybe a birch or pine. Cut logs rest neatly in a brown leather sling on the striated marble hearth.
“Follow me.”
He steps around me and strides toward the far side of the vast room. We round the corner to the modern shower that features a foot-wide rainforest showerhead and two limestone benches. Smooth pebbles in shades of soft cream and tan make up the floor of the cavernous space. There
Similar Books
