Chapter 6 - Touch of the Past
Roman took a half-step back, preparing to turn toward his security team at the desk while Daniel investigated the lower levels. But before his leather shoe could leave the marble floor, a light, delicate sensation caught the sleeve of his black jacket.
He stopped instantly and looked down.
The little girl had reached out her small hand from the velvet bench. Her tiny fingers had delicately gathered a fold of the expensive dark fabric of his jacket, holding him in place with a gentle, hesitant grip.
Roman looked down at her hand, then slowly followed the line of her small arm back up to her face.
Under the direct, unfiltered radiance of the massive chandelier, the lighting was bright and crystalline. For the first time since he had approached the bench, Roman saw her face clearly, completely unshadowed by the angle of her chin or the fall of her brown hair.
He saw the delicate, arched shape of her eyebrows.
He saw the tiny, worried crease that formed right between them as she looked up at him—a distinct, unconscious facial habit born of anxiety.
And then, as she tilted her head back slightly to look directly into his face, Roman saw her eyes.
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They were not brown like her hair, nor were they the common deep blue or hazel of ordinary children. They were a striking, unmistakable, icy pale gray—encircled by a dark outer iris ring that caught the ambient light like polished silver.
They were the exact shape, color, and intensity of his own eyes.
