Really, really

Really, really
Then he blinked and disappeared, so maybe I had just been projecting what I really wanted to see in Arturo , which was definitely an idea I needed to get out of my head, or this would be an even more difficult month than I had originally anticipated.Bastian and I walked around the edge of the room, almost sticking to the same shadows I had walked into at first. I looked around, looking for Arthur but didn't see him. He was probably still talking to his friend. I pushed away the jealousy that was tormenting me and squeezed Bastian's arm tighter, not pulling it away when he covered my hand with his; his movement was purely possessive.
As I continued to stare absently at the faces of the party guests, content that Bastian was leading us in the direction he chose, I caught the gaze of Arthur's uncle , and his features softened into a frown, a small line forming between his eyebrows as he looked at his nephew beside me.
I looked away. He couldn't frown at the sight of my nephew showing me around when, apparently, the nephew who had brought me hadn't received enough instruction on date night etiquette.
We walked out of the ballroom into a wide hallway, similar to the one in Arthur's house . Everything was hardwood or veined marble and oozed class and culture.
"This is the salon. " Bastian pointed to a double door to my left, and I peered inside, absorbing a bit of classical French culture.
Huge, heavy velvet curtains hung from ceiling to floor in numerous windows, and several small sitting areas created intimate spaces in the huge room. A grand piano occupied a deceptively small space in one corner, and there were chandeliers on consoles and vases of brightly colored fresh flowers on other surfaces.
"It's beautiful." A bit ornate and old-fashioned for my taste, perhaps, but I could definitely appreciate the old money present here.
"A bit old-fashioned, perhaps " Bastian said as if he had read my thought and chuckled." But if you like this style, there's definitely a room I want to show you."

He led me towards a staircase, even more imposing and curvy than Arturo's , and made mine look like a simple rickety ladder that someone had leaned against the wall. As I reached the foot of the staircase, I stopped.
"Where are we going?" I still had enough self-preservation instinct not to be led into a strange man's bedroom.
He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Where would you like to go?"
As I hesitated some more, he relaxed into a friendly smile.
There's a sort of private gallery upstairs. Almost a museum. "He shrugged his shoulders" . I just thought you might be interested, nothing more. "A glint of disappointment flashed in his eyes" . We can go see if Arturo's finished meeting with Carmelia , if you prefer .
"No, I don't prefer it. " I squeezed Bastian tighter and climbed up to the first step. "I don't see the point in interrupting Arturo and his friend."
And that was true. Besides, the thought of confronting them both, of getting in where they didn't want me, turned my stomach.

"If it's any consolation, I think Arturo is crazy to let you wander around the party alone. He wouldn't have let you go even if he had brought you. " Bastian's voice was low, perhaps too close to my ear, but a shiver of pleasure ran through me at the thought of someone seeing me valuable when Arthur clearly did not. Bastian crossed a wide hallway into a darkened room and pulled me playfully toward him before turning on the light." I promise you're still a stone's throw from the party."
I relaxed at his mocking words. I was there as Arturo's guest; this was his brother; his uncle had seen us leaving the ballroom. It wasn't as if I had been taken to the second place by a serial killer.
Ta-da! "Bastian held out his arm with a graceful gesture as we entered a room full of shelves and display cases" . "The gallery "he added unnecessarily, and I smiled.
"Really?"
He chuckled. "Really, really."
I let go of his arm as I walked further into the room. A few thick ceramic urns caught my eye, which were broken into several pieces. The designs were basic and faded.
"These look really old." My fingers hovered over the display case, but I didn't even touch the glass.
"There's jewelry, too." Bastian led me to another display case filled with beaded necklaces and bracelets and elaborately woven necklaces adorned with much smaller beads.
Wow, how did all this stuff get in here? They looked truly museum-worthy.
Bastian's lips curved. "My father was a great collector. He was a connoisseur, an expert in antiques.... And also, I suppose, a hoarder. Once he owned something, he couldn't bear to part with it."
Private collectors were a fact of life, and they definitely seemed to prefer to hoard things rather than let everyone enjoy them in a public gallery, so it didn't seem so far-fetched to think that Arthur and Bastian's father might have been one of those people.