Misfortune Cookie (18 page)

“As long as I don’t look like a hooker.” Secretly, I couldn’t wait to see what he’d picked. Once, when I was younger and shallower, I cared a great deal about my appearance. Clothes were my drug of choice. Since I’d broken away from the family, my taste had matured to more comfortable and sensible garments. Plus, it was kind of sexy to have my lover pick out my outfits.
Lover
. Anticipation curled in my belly. Desire stabbed me. Just the thought of his muscular body between my thighs—I couldn’t wait.

“Please. I have taste,” he sniffed, feigning insult. His eyes narrowed. “Look at the rubies in your cheeks. What naughty things are you thinking?”

Damn. How did he always know when I was thinking about sex? I opened the car door and stepped outside, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

We spent the next few hours choosing clothes for the gala. The shop owner catered to our every whim. As he should have, given the amount of money we were spending. The newer, sensible me balked at the frivolity, but as Luca reminded me several times, I was the heir. There was more at stake than my discomfort. Aside from the charity money, I had to arrive from a position of strength.

I chose several gowns, shoes, and accessories to take home. I’d decide tomorrow what I would wear. Probably five minutes before the event. Except Luca had others ideas as I learned when we arrived home.

“A stylist? Do I have to?” I whined. Mr. Meadows greeted us at the door. All I wanted to do was check out my new toys.

Luca’s raised eyebrows that said it all.—
Stop acting like a baby
. “Darling, it’ll be all right.”

I caved, mentally rolling my eyes. “Fine.” My goodies would have to wait.

Mr. Meadows piped in, “Pardon me. Miss Selene called. Her flight has been cancelled due to dangerous storm activity over Chicago.”

“Lucky her.” I smiled. My mirth quickly died. Maybe it was the family luck kicking in and there was a reason they shouldn’t come. “I’d rather they wait and be safe. I can see them another time.”

“I’ll make sure your clothes are pressed and tailored this afternoon. The cook has prepared lunch for you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Meadows. I’ll ensure she eats something.” Luca steered me toward the informal dining room.

“You’ll ensure that I
eat
?” I parroted. Really. I didn’t need a baby sitter.

“He worries about you,” Luca said simply. “I know you are capable of surviving on your own. But it makes him feel . . .
needed
.”

“Pish posh. Now you sound like Sebastian.
The servants aren’t whole if they aren’t waiting on us
. What a load of crap. They have lives and dreams of their own too, you know.” Frustrated, I grabbed a plate. Lunch was served buffet style, Meadow’s concession to my need not to be waited on day and night.

“There is truth in both statements. Some people aren’t complete unless they are needed. Nurturing is a way of life and they can’t be any other way.” Luca unfurled his napkin and placed it precisely on his lap. His plate contained the basics of good nutrition: some protein, a serving of grains, and generous portions of vegetables.

“Whatever. You win.” I was too tired to argue. I could concede some truth to what he’d said. Selene was a perfect example. She loved and truly cared about the well-being of others. Hell, she was the one who always made sure that we ate, had clean clothes, and went to school when our parents couldn’t be bothered with us. A first class, Grade-A nurturer.

We ate in silence, lost in our own thoughts, the only sounds, silverware scraping the plates and Brody’s plaintive wails for a handout. Luca, the softie, broke first and offered bits of chicken. Satisfied, Brody jumped into my lap, curled up, and promptly fell asleep.

Thunder rumbled outside. The windows rattled in their panes. I realized that for the first time an impending storm didn’t make me nervous. I glanced over at Luca’s placid face and felt safe and grateful for his presence.

Rain drummed against the windows, reminiscent of impatient fingers tapping a staccato beat. A low headache throbbed behind my eyes. I picked at the food on my plate.

“Eat more.” Luca sipped his wine. “Your body needs strength to heal properly.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask about his needs. I hadn’t forgotten what I’d read in the
Alkhari
book. Luca needed sustenance too. Only I didn’t know how to get him what he wanted without insulting him.

“Radiance,” he said, interrupting my musings. “Reginald will be attending.”

My fork slipped through my fingers, clattering against the plate. Brody dug his claws into my lap in retaliation for the disturbance. “Bully for him.”

“Do not underestimate the power of greed.”

“Believe me. I have loads of experience with the downside of money. I haven’t forgotten what his note did to me.” I’d like to think that I’d mastered my powers enough, but in reality, I had so much to learn. “I’ll stay away from him.”

“You can’t ignore him completely. After his display in front of the family, you need to have the upper hand.”

“Now you’re the one surprising me.” I resumed eating, the food tasting like sand.

Luca opened his mouth to speak, when his phone rang. “Apologies, but I need to take this meeting.”

As soon as he left, I pushed my plate aside, scooped up my cat, and headed to my room. Time to unpack the box waiting for me. New weapons, here I come.

The following morning arrived way too quickly. I’d spent the evening practicing skating in my new indoor flat-track rink. I’d asked Meadows to convert one of the car garages for me. I didn’t need hangars full of sports cars. He arranged to move them to other locations or gave them as gifts to my cousins.

Ever since my life had taken a left turn down the highway of suckitude, I’d missed my derby team. I missed the practice, the camaraderie, the sheer fun of skating. I’d hated quitting but their safety and lives were more important. Yes, I cried after I left the team. I’d told them I had one too many head blows and my doctor advised I retire. At the time, it was more or less true. My skull had been crushed the day before.

Every day I practiced until my legs wobbled. I needed to build my strength and speed. After a night’s sleep, and before anyone demanded my time, I clapped on my workout gear and headed to the rink.

Brody trotted around my ankles, happy to follow me. He seemed to adjust to our new life much better than me. I couldn’t blame him. The staff adored having him around and spoiled him rotten. I finally had to threaten them to stop overfeeding him before he turned into a striped blimp with four legs.

I was surprised to see the blaze of yellow lights inside when I opened the door.

“Morning,
annwyl
,” Luca greeted me as he circled by on skates. God, could this man do everything?

“You’re up early.” I fastened on my gear. “Any sign of Allen Chen yet?”

“No.” He swooped down in front of me. “This is rather fun. I can see why you enjoy it.”

Rather than being annoyed, I was flattered that he’d tried something that I liked. “Want to race?” I pushed off, legs pumping up to a brisk speed.

“Shouldn’t you warmup first?” he asked, catching me.

“This is my warmup.” With a burst of speed, I skated away, taking the corner low and tight. Luca was on my heels, but didn’t touch me. As I took the next corner, he zoomed past me. Not about to stand for that, I outmaneuvered him on the following turn. He may have been faster, but I had more tricks.

This game of cat and mouse continued until I couldn’t go any longer. Even Luca sported sweat stains. It pleased me to know that even he could work up a sweat. Though not as heavily as the sweat pouring down my neck and back. And unlike me, he wasn’t panting like a dog on hot day.

“Fucking fantastic,” he said, offering me a cool water bottle.

I gratefully accepted it. After a long swallow, I said, “You would make an awesome jammer.”

“What’s a jammer?” he asked with a broad grin. I could tell he wanted to make a smart-ass comment. Probably something about jam and toast.

“The jammer is the only player who can score. Each team can have only one jammer at a time on the rink. They’re the skaters with the star on their helmets. To score, you have to get past the blockers.” I wiped my face and neck with a towel. In hindsight, I should have asked for shower facilities to be built in. “You’re wily and fast. Perfect for the job.”

Luca guzzled more water. “Thanks. I think.”

“In the derby world, that’s a compliment.” I unlaced my practice skates and yanked off my socks. I couldn’t stand damp feet. I’d rather walk barefoot back to the main house. As soon the weekend was over, I’d resume practice.

I also itched with anticipation to try my other new item—a TASER X12 shotgun. Unlike the handheld model, this one fired shotgun shells, which allowed the shooter to be further away from their intended target. In my world, that meant less physical contact and, hopefully, fewer bone-crushing injuries.

“That’s a lovely smile,” Luca said, jolting me back to the here and now.

I wasn’t ready to show it to him yet. I wanted to test it out first. While reading through Sebastian’s papers, I learned that for the standard issue stun gun, each probe had been alternately blessed and damned. The combination immobilized the soul long enough for me to judge it. So all I needed to do was get the new ammo equally treated. A priest or holy man was easy enough to procure. It was the dark side that I had no idea how to find. It’s not like I could open up the phone book and find a Satanic cult. If that was even the right group to approach.

“You’re doing it again,” Luca said, holding the door open for me.

Mortified to be caught staring again, I raised my chin and brushed by him, eyes straight ahead. Honestly, this time I hadn’t been thinking about his hot body. Of course, with that simple suggestion, my gaze darted over his assets.

Who could blame me for lingering over his admirable physique? Defined abs and pecs molded underneath his damp, form-fitting T-shirt. And those smallish gym shorts. The inviting curve of his strong butt. And, I’d be remiss not to appreciate his well-toned legs. Sculpted with lean muscles . . .

“Ahem.” Luca smirked. “If I stared at you like that, I’m pretty sure I would get slapped.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I teased, then increased the pace and powerwalked past him, the tips of my ears burning hot.

The vibe in the house had changed since I’d left in the morning. Staff hustled past me, pushing dollies loaded with luggage. Normally quiet sections of the house buzzed with hustle and bustle. Laughter echoed down the hallway, heading in my direction. Not wanting to deal with relatives when I sorely needed a shower, I bolted to the library intending to scoot once they’d passed by.

Luca didn’t say a word, until after I’d locked the door behind us. “You can’t avoid them all forever.”

“I’d like to shower first,” I grumped. “And why is that painting still here?”

I’d asked Meadows to remove it. He must not have had a chance yet with all the party preparations. No problem. It didn’t look that heavy. I dragged one of the desk chairs over to the mantel and reached toward it.

“Allow me to assist you.” Luca deftly removed the portrait, muscles straining.

Guess it was heavier than I thought. With a low grunt, he angled it against the fireplace.

“Thanks.” I replaced the chair. Off the wall, the picture was even more imposing, towering several feet over my head. What had I been thinking? Trying to move it on my own would have resulted in me trapped underneath.

“What’s your issue with this painting?” Luca wiped a bit of dust off the corner. Good thing Meadows wasn’t around. He’d probably stroke out to find dirt on his watch.

“Hmmm . . . where to start. It’s creepy. It reminds me of the day you shot me. And I don’t need a giant-sized version of my grandfather’s disapproving face staring at me on a regular basis.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Luca said, remorse on his face.

Ah, crap. Why did I have to bring up the shooting? “Luca, you don’t have to—”

“No,
annwyl
. This weighs heavily on my soul.” He placed his right palm against his breast. “No
Alkhari
male ever wants to hurt his chosen.”

“Did you have a choice?”

“No. Not in this one thing. When I chose this life, I knew that act would be required. But I never anticipated how I would feel about you.”

“What’s done is done,” I said, squeezing his arm, wishing I could ease his guilt. “I forgive you. Stop punishing yourself. If you hadn’t done it, then we wouldn’t be together now. Do you regret meeting me?”

“Absolutely not,” he said without skipping a beat. He raised my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles, sending welcome heat down to my toes. “No matter what happens, I am yours.”

I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him like I never wanted to let go. The universe adjusted in that moment while I rested in his arms. A small sliver of hope awakened inside me.

Take that, Grandfather,
I thought, gazing at his stern visage. Reluctantly, I released Luca and touched the canvas, the oil paint bumpy under my fingers. Without thinking, I relaxed my mind and unspooled my power. Images flowed, the impressions were dim, almost faded and largely consisted of the painter thinking uncharitable things about Sebastian. I could relate.

Right before I was about to pull away, I was surprised by one clear memory. The painting had a secret.

“Luca, help me turn this around.” Between the two of us, we angled the portrait so I could wiggle behind it. I ran my hands around the edges of the frame until I felt a disjoint in the wood. I dug my fingernails underneath, stopping at a crack. With a small amount of pressure, the wood gave way and a thin tube thumped onto the carpet.

“That looks like an old cigar case,” Luca said, fishing cobwebs out of my hair.