He didn’t hide his skeletons in there.
Violet found a connecting bath when she pushed the door open the rest of the way, but another door had been left wide open at the other side of the bathroom, and a light was left on. She could tell it was a closet of sorts, and once again, curiosity got the better of her.
Before she knew it, Violet was looking over an assortment of watches. She had kicked her heels off at the doorway, and she discovered that Kaz had a taste for black clothes and a small collection of Converse.
She wouldn’t have taken him for the type, all things considered.
“What are you doing in here?”
Violet didn’t start at Kaz’s voice coming from the doorway connecting to the bathroom. She just continued admiring his vast closet.
“You have more clothes than I do,” she said.
“I doubt that.”
“Don’t. You do.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grin. “I like things.”
“Things like watches and Converse?”
“Yes, on the first, and when I was a bit younger and could get away with them, for the second.”
Violet nodded, more to herself than him. “And you’ve never thought to get rid of them?”
“Why would I get rid of them?”
His question had come out sounding so confused that she couldn’t help but laugh.
“You don’t wear them, you said.”
Kaz shrugged. “I’m not seeing your point.”
“You’re one of those, then,” Violet said.
“One of—what?”
“You probably have something in this closet from at least ten years ago, but because it might still fit and you may wear it again someday, you won’t get rid of it.”
“Wrong,” he said.
Violet straightened, turning to stare him down. “I bet I could find something. I probably already did, but overlooked it because your Converse collection distracted me.”
“I never said I didn’t wear the Converse, just that I don’t wear them as often. And I bet you own at least thirty pairs of shoes, if not more, so I’m not sure where this conversation is going.”
“Ten,” Violet said.
Kaz leaned against the doorjamb. “Ten what?”
“Ten pairs of shoes. Two of which are black because it goes with everything. One pair of flats. Sneakers. Two sets of kitten heels, pink and red. And four other heels that make my legs look great. Nice try, though.”
“Huh.”
“Surprising, is it?” she asked.
“Considering who your mother is, it kind of is.”
Violet tossed him a simpering smile. “Surface appearances lie, Kaz. You should know that better than most people. But, to be fair, those ten pairs of shoes can interchange at any time depending on weather, season, or how pissed off I am at any given thing.”
“And what do you do with the old ones?”
“Unlike you, I don’t keep them.”
He laughed, hard and loud. “So did you find what you were looking for?”
“Hmm?”
“You couldn’t have started in here,” he said. “I’d be disappointed if this was all you got around to.”
“You have quite a stack of mail to sort through,” she replied.
Kaz grinned. “That I do.”
“And your living room looks like a show floor. I suspect you don’t spend much time in it.”
“Busy,” he offered.
Violet took his word for it, but she thought it might be a bit more, too. Like maybe he was too high-strung on any given day to sit down and just enjoy his surroundings. He was probably always on the go, and this apartment was simply the place he stopped to rest and not much else.
“Are my drawers safe?” he asked.
Violet tipped her chin up, defiant and coy. “I’ll never tell.”
“If anything goes missing, I know where to find you.”
His joking tone took away what little anxiety might still have been lingering inside of Violet.
“Aren’t you scared I know all of your secrets now?” she asked.
Kaz shook his head. “Not at all.”
“Let me guess—because you don’t leave them lying around for anyone to find?”
“No, this place is full of surprises to find. It’s got tighter security than even my father’s house. That’s not why at all.”
Violet’s brow furrowed. “Then why?”
“Because the only thing that I’m really concerned with keeping hidden at the moment is standing just a few feet away from me.”
Oh.
She fidgeted with her manicured nails as Kaz finally took a step into the walk-in closet—although it was big enough to be a small bedroom—she suspected that’s exactly what it had been at one time, before he remodeled—and shrugged his jacket off. As he grabbed a garment bag down from the many sections of bars meant for hanging clothes, her gaze was drawn down to the ruddy, smeared stains at the middle of his white shirt.
Violet knew better than to ask, but her mouth worked faster than her brain. “Is that blood?”
Kaz didn’t even look down to see what she was talking about. “Yes, my brother’s.”
She flinched inwardly. “Sorry.”