Coming Home (15 page)

She threw her shoe at him. “Good night, Lucian!”

He chuckled as he bounded down the steps. He locked the door behind him and his cheerful whistle echoed through the alley as he headed for the limo.

***

Sitting so still it was a wonder his lungs remembered to breathe, Lucian stared out the large window behind his desk, the sleeping city a quiet storm without wind. Lavender shades of silver and blue painted the world a still life that always entranced him with its peaceful qualities. He’d been sitting there since sometime after three, silently letting his mind wonder over the mundane and lulling his body in a way the quiet of his room never could.

While his gaze watched the silhouetted landscape reflect the colors of dawn, his mind dwelled on other forms of beauty. His mind should have been focused on business, but long, tapered legs and a cinched little waist filled his mind until his imagination lent her weight to his empty palms. She was back in his life. His Evelyn was finally back.

There was something incredibly tenuous about their reunion, something Lucian feared could shatter at any moment. Always so strident and sure in his endeavors, he was man enough to admit, for the first time in his life, he’d found something he coveted so much it terrified him. She was so much more than a possession. It was what she
gave
him. A soft security that never took tangible form, yet he felt it everywhere in her presence. What they had he cherished beyond measure, and it was changing him in ways he didn’t understand.

Never one to backpedal or hesitate, she somehow gave him second thoughts. Thoughts of not rushing in, not jarring this delicate slice of peace she presented, thoughts of . . . compromising his desires for someone else’s. He didn’t understand how she made him feel so different, but she did and he was determined not to do anything hasty that could damage their love.

She loved him. That in itself was a gift beyond measure. He never—

His thoughts cut off at the soft vibration rattling over a sheaf of papers on his desk. He checked the antique pocket watch resting on his ledger and frowned. It was just past four a.m.

His hand scooped up his phone and a smile curved his mouth when he read the screen. His thumb slid across the screen and he brought the cell to his ear. “Did I conjure you with my thoughts?”

“Did I wake you?”

He settled back into his leather high-backed chair and turned to face the dawn once more, awaiting the brilliant show of light that never failed to rejuvenate him each day. “You know me better than that.”

“Are you at your desk?” Her voice was sleep-roughened silk tantalizing his ears.

“Yes. Just thinking. Couldn’t you sleep?”

She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. The soft sound of sheets rustling had him imagining her warm and cozy in her little bed. He loved that she’d call him at odd hours of the night. It was the next best thing to having her there. “I had a bad dream.”

He glanced down at his legs as his brow drew tight. “You okay? You don’t usually have nightmares. Want to talk about it?”

“We don’t have to. I just . . . wanted to hear your voice.”

“Want me to come over?”

She chuckled, her voice a raspy invitation he’d be more than happy to follow. “No. It’s still dark out and I have work in a few hours.”

He growled. “You and your work.”

“Don’t start.”

“What was your dream about?”

The playfulness siphoned out of the space between. “Pearl. Me. It was more of a flashback but everything was different. I was older, but still young.”

“What happened?”

Pearl was a burden he feared Evelyn would always feel responsible for. He couldn’t blame her. Pearl was her mother. If having his mother back meant having her in the form of Pearl, he didn’t know if he’d be able to turn down that sort of devil’s deal. In that respect, he understood Evelyn’s loyalty and need to save her any way she could.

“It was cold. It was so cold I woke up shivering. When I was little, my mom used to send me with money to buy her hits while she worked off the pay with some man that used to come around. I got lost.”

“Did this really happen?”

“Yeah. I was only about eight, but in my dream I was older. I was so cold and scared. It was dark before I found my way back. There was a cop patrolling in a squad car and I almost asked him for help. Something made me hesitate though, made me think twice about talking to him. In that moment I knew he would help me, but if I asked for his assistance I also knew I would likely never see Pearl again. He’d take me and put me in a home she’d never follow me to.”

Lucian grew uncomfortable in his own skin trying to imagine an eight-year-old Evelyn attempting to rationalize her way through a situation like that. This was partially where her fear of law officers stemmed from. He could remind her she was now an adult, but didn’t see the point. Certain ingrained tendencies would be impossible to rewrite.

This was who she was. He’d take care of her so long as she let him.

“It was a stupid dream,” she muttered.

“Everyone has fears, Evelyn. Some are rational and some aren’t, but that doesn’t make them any less frightening.”

“This from the man who fears nothing.”

“I have fears.”

The echo of her gentle breathing filled the air. She whispered, “What are you afraid of, Lucian?”

Losing you. Ruining what we have again. Not being strong enough for you.
“I’m afraid of what I can’t control.”

“Ah, but I thought you controlled the world.”

“Smartass.” He smirked in the dark. “I’m afraid of not being able to protect you. I want to always be there when you need me, when you’re lost. I always want to help you find your way home.”

He sensed her satisfaction with his answer and imagined her blushing in the dark as she attempted to deny her lips a grin. “Surely that will never happen with Dugan forever on my tail.”

“Exactly.” A few beats passed. “But that’s not what I mean.”

“What
do
you mean?” Her question was asked in a husky voice reserved for mornings and talks with cheeks pressed upon soft pillows.

“I mean I never want you to think you can’t come to me, with anything, no matter what. I’d stop the world for you.”

His mind filled with strobes of red and blue lights, flares lined along the shoulder of the road leading to his estate, and Monique’s covered body on a gurney. But in his nightmares it wasn’t Monique. It was Evelyn. Those were his bad dreams.

His request slipped past his lips, a hushed plea. “Come over.”

“I can’t.”

“Why? I want to hold you and make you feel safe.”

“You do. Just knowing that I can hear your voice is reassuring.”

He sighed. “I feel like I just got you back and I can’t reach you. It’s making me crazy. Will you spend the night with me tonight?”

“I . . . I can’t.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“I have plans.”

“Tell me your plans.”

“Lucian,” she said in warning.

“What are your plans?”

“I have a . . . meeting.”

His brow kinked. “With?”

She sighed. “Don’t do this. I told you there are things I need to take care of on my own.”

“I’m not doing anything but asking you a question. You’re the one being secretive for no reason. Be open with me. I don’t understand—”

“Things are different now. I can’t go back to the way things were. Not after . . .”

Right. Not after he royally fucked up. This was the shit that was making him crazy. He’d somehow placed himself in a certain kind of purgatory. How long would it take to get her to be open with him again?

He hated tiptoeing around, worrying he’d push too hard and somehow push her away. He needed to reel his temper in and trust her to open up when she was ready.

“When you’re ready, will you tell me?”

“Lucian.”

“Give me something, Evelyn. I’m trying to be patient here. At least give me credit for not insisting on full disclosure. I know it has to do with the money. I don’t care. I want you to have it to do with as you please. I won’t talk you out of whatever you’re buying. Just . . . eventually . . . tell me.”

There was a long moment of silence. “When I’m ready.”

“Good enough.”

Chapter 12

Postmortem

An analysis of a game after it’s over

“This is fucking bullshit.” Lucian gripped his cell as he climbed into the elevator, maneuvering around the others filling the cramped space. A woman in a fitted suit smiled up at him. He ignored her and focused on what Shamus was saying.

“I can’t figure it out either. This deal was in the bag. I don’t understand what’s causing them to procrastinate.”

“Have you sent over the paperwork from Quincy?” The elevator paused as several riders exited. Lucian waited as the doors closed and it continued on its journey to the top.

“They got it yesterday. My understanding was that they were only waiting for the final draft. The board was all in agreement this was the best move. It doesn’t make sense for them to pull back now. What’s changed?” Shamus was clearly as frustrated as he was.

Lucian stepped off the elevator and walked at a clipped pace past Seth’s desk. “Get me Quincy on the phone, and I want a copy of your notes from yesterday’s conference call.”

“Yes, sir,” his assistant said, snapping into action.

Lucian shut the door and went to his desk, removing his jacket and tossing it over the chair. Today was going to be a pain in the ass. He could already sense it. His mind refocused on what Jamie was saying.

“. . . The statistics are all in their favor. There are no other bids on the table now that Chrysler’s withdrawn their offer. Could there be someone we overlooked?”

Lucian dropped into his chair. “Who? Bishop’s not going to be interested. He’s already on my shit list and knows going into this will only end in his company’s bloodshed.”

“No, I don’t think it’s Slade. Something isn’t adding up though. For Labex to suddenly hesitate when they have everything they asked for on a silver platter . . . there has to be an offer on the table we aren’t seeing.”

“Are you saying there’s a mole?” Lucian frowned and did a quick inventory of his staff. This deal was huge. Over eighteen months poured into schmoozing and negotiating in order to get Labex, a green energy provider, to put their accounts in the care of Patras. They’d be handling everything from the site modifications, to warehousing their equipment, to managing their accounts. “Who else could compete with our offer?”

“Aside from Slade? I don’t know.”

Flicking on his computer, he grimaced.

“Mr. Patras, I have Mr. Quincy on line one,” Seth piped in over the intercom.

“Shamus, I do
not
want to lose this deal. It’s a good partnership, and the mere idea of someone fucking with us is irritating. I want to find out who it is and I want them dealt with. Have Margarite do a search on all vacant warehouses in Folsom. I’ll get Seth to arrange a dinner tonight, someplace nice. We’ll do some ass-kissing and dig around. Whoever’s playing with us is about to get a severe lesson in business acumen.”

“You got it. Let me know how you make out with Quincy.”

“Will do.” He ended his call and snatched up his desk phone. “Quincy.”

The long series of phone calls that followed did nothing but frustrate everyone involved. Lucian had a staff of over one hundred involved in this deal, and they were all running around like headless chickens trying to find where their plan had fallen short.

By two, he was ready to flip his desk and demand a meeting with Jacobi, the CEO of Labex Green, but knew that would only show his cards and not bode well for anyone. Dinner was arranged for that evening, and he and Jamie would do everything in their power to control the damage.

Finally, the call he’d been waiting for came. He snatched up his cell. “Dugan?”

“Got it,” his chauffer said.

Lucian smiled with great satisfaction. She had to know it was only a matter of time. “I’ll be down in five.”

He grabbed his jacket and left his office. “I’ll be back in an hour. Text me with any news regarding Labex. Everything else can wait.”

Seth nodded and continued to frantically compile the schematics Lucian requested for that evening. As he strode into the elevator, he slipped his master key into the grid, in no mood to deal with other passengers. The ride to the ground was made in luxurious silence. When the dial showed he’d reached the lobby without interruption, he withdrew his key and stepped onto the marble tiles.

Pressing through the revolving glass doors, he found Dugan waiting. His chauffeur opened the back door of the limo and Lucian glided onto the smooth leather seat. “Where are we heading?”

Dugan smiled. “Clemons Market, sir.”

The door shut with a soft snick and they were soon on their way. He hadn’t heard from Evelyn since early that morning. He wondered how committed she was to her “plans” that evening. It would benefit him if she accompanied him to their dinner meeting, making it seem more casual than manipulative, a sort of preemptive celebration of the partnership to come. Much of his success in business was the result of assuming victory from the first handshake.

He groaned as he considered Shamus, if he intended to bring a date, would likely ask his sister Toni. Lucian could not wait for that ridiculous coupling to run its course and be over.

Toni was the farthest thing from reserved. She spoke too much and most of the time came off spoiled and unworldly. It wasn’t her fault. She was young. He couldn’t fault her for her lack of experience. It was her need to fill every bit of silence with mindless chatter that could hinder his plans for the evening. Evelyn was much better at knowing when words were necessary and when less was more in terms of finessing professionals.

He drew out his phone and texted Jamie.

Are you going stag tonight?

It only took a moment for his friend to reply.

Your sister would cut off my nuts if I took someone else. So, yes. It’s better she thinks this is strictly business and no one’s feelings will be hurt.

Lucian drew in a breath of relief. The one thing he couldn’t deny was that his friend truly knew his sister . . . and her faults.

I may bring Evelyn, but she already has plans, but I’d like her to go.

The time to reply exceeded the norm and Lucian knew his friend was laughing at his expense.

So she’s speaking to you again? And plans? Without you? I didn’t know that was allowed.

Lucian carefully typed each letter of his reply.

Fuck. You.

Shamus’ reply was quick.

Lol. Would if I could. I’m very good. Ask your sister.

He wasn’t touching that one. Wedging his phone in his breast pocket, he shifted as Dugan pulled into the market’s parking lot. The market was small, sort of a commercialized mom-and-pop feel to it.

When the limo eased into the fire lane, Lucian let himself out. Dugan met him on the curb. “I’ll be out in a bit. You can park.”

“Yes, sir.”

The automatic doors opened to the scent of paper products and the hum of canned elevator music. He could not recall the last time he stepped foot in a grocery store. Perhaps he never had. A metal snake of shopping carts was parked along the front of the store. His feet carried him where his mind wasn’t aware he should go.

Crossing the threshold of another set of automatic doors, he entered the main store. Shoppers glided by, perusing their lists and selecting goods, as mothers herded children in the desired direction. A stack of baskets sat just beside a display of cut flowers. He collected a basket and selected a bouquet of lavender tulips, dropping them into the green wire bin.

Sales marked the first aisle, and he wasn’t quite sure where Evelyn would be. He drifted down the aisles, taking in the unique feeling of normalcy that came with being in such an ordinary place. Lucian stilled in the cookie aisle when his gaze recognized a type of pinwheel biscuit and his mind drifted to a memory he had all but forgotten.

His fingers curled around the simple white box with blue lettering as he returned to his childhood kitchen. He suddenly conjured his mother’s perfume and felt the warmth of her presence as she handed him a pinwheel. Her smile was delicate and loving.

Strange that a cookie could present such a nostalgic recollection he didn’t realize he had. The box of cookies landed in the basket, cozied neatly beside the tulips so as not to crush the blooms.

As he wandered on he looked for signs of Evelyn, but didn’t find her. At the line of registers he saw the young man who had taken her to the benefit that weekend. No longer in a tuxedo, he appeared less of a threat and more of a boy. Odd that Lucian would see him as so young when he saw Evelyn as
his
perfect match.

He frowned as he considered the difference in their age. The media had been focusing on the question of her maturity like predators over a downed squirrel. Had he taken advantage of an innocent? True, she was a virgin when he met her, but she was also an adult.

The media would, of course, have no knowledge of such things, but it certainly didn’t escape their notice that Evelyn was in her early twenties while he was in his midthirties. Should he feel some level of guilt for wanting her in such carnal ways?

“Lucian?”

All thoughts cut off as he heard her voice. He turned and found her stepping from a nondescript back door by the bakery section. “There you are.” He smiled and approached her.

Lips parted in surprise, she stared at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“I’m working.” She scowled. “How did you find out where I worked?”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Evelyn . . .”

She made a sound of disgust. “And you wonder why I want my privacy on other issues.”

He frowned. The sense that he was unwelcome irritated him, another barrier that hadn’t existed before. “Well, I needed to pick up a few things.”

The disbelieving look she gave him made him smirk. She never bought into his bullshit, but at least she didn’t challenge him. She peeked into his basket. “Cookies and flowers?”

He stepped closer and whispered. “Shh, you aren’t supposed to see the flowers.” He had the strongest desire to kiss her, but knew she wouldn’t want such attention in her place of work. Rather, he slowly traced a finger down the delicate curve of her jaw.

A door opened, the one she had just exited, and she suddenly stiffened and stepped away.

“Evelyn, you will also need to—” The man who emerged cut off his request when he spotted Lucian standing there.

He was young, but appeared older in the way he carried himself. His face was groomed with a dated mustache and his eyes were hidden behind thick lenses, making his age difficult to discern. Lucian’s gaze snapped to his badge and noted that he was the manager.

“I didn’t realize you were assisting a customer. Please return to my office when you’re finished.”

There was nothing inappropriate in such a request from a manager to an employee, yet the set of Evelyn’s shoulders and the blank expression on her face told him something was off. The manager disappeared through the doors again and Evelyn drew in a shaky breath.

Before he could ask what the guy’s deal was, she turned and hissed, “You have to go.”

He frowned. “Do you not like your manager?”

“He’s my boss. I don’t have an opinion about him, but he’ll certainly have an opinion about me holding social calls at work.”

No, there was something definitely off with her, and it definitely had to do with the manager. “If you think I’m leaving because some little twerp with his picture in a dollar-store frame wants it so, you’re mistaken.”

She huffed and shifted on her feet. “Lucian, I have work to do—”

“Is that his office?”

She turned and glanced at the door. “What? Yes.”

“Why were you in his office?”

“He had to go over some things with me.”

“Like?”

“My receipts. Lucian, I really need to get back to work.”

That was his little worker bee, always so concerned about keeping her job. She really was an admirable employee. However, she was also vulnerable because of her age and the drive to maintain her job.

“Does he ever request the other employees join him in his office?”

Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. They were manicured, but no longer polished the way they had been when she’d stayed at the hotel and had the use of the salon. He’d make her an appointment.

“I don’t know. I need to go see what he wants
now
. I’ll call you when I’m done working.” She turned and disappeared through the back door without giving him a chance to reply. Dismissed indeed. He had a moment of
what the hell is happening to me
as he stared at the nondescript door, dumfounded.

He decided he’d wait.
Let’s see how long Mr. Manager decides to monopolize his employee.

Lucian drifted to a display of rotisserie chickens that smelled surprisingly good. He waited for several moments. And when the door finally opened, Evelyn marched out and made a beeline to the registers on the opposite end of the store. There was no mistaking the irritation that set her shoulders. His eyes narrowed as he placed his basket beside a tank of lobsters and adjusted his cuffs.

Walking over to the door he pressed through and found a cramped little storage room with a ratty filing cabinet and the manager behind a beaten-down desk. The man’s mouth dropped open beneath his mustache.

“May I help you?” Clearly shoppers were not permitted in this area.

Lucian took his time taking in the small space. The guy had pictures of himself on the wall proclaiming he’d been employee of the month more times than any other. Instinct told him something was off and his gut said it was more than simple territorial paranoia for Evelyn.

He brushed his thumb over the edge of a dusty crate. “Mr. Gerhard?” It was easy to get his name off one of the many plaques on the wall.

“Yes?” The manager’s confusion to his presence showed signs of unease. It was a simple enough task. Lucian was older, better dressed, taller, and unarguably more powerful. The manager was outmatched and knew it, even if he didn’t know the game.

“I’m Lucian Patras.” There, that did it. Game on.

His brows shot over the dated frames of his glasses and he stood, instinctively offering the well-known name the respect it deserved. He held out his hand. “Mr. Patras, well, what a surprise. I hadn’t recognized you. Is there something I can do for you?”