“She says she still doesn’t remember anything.”
Low whistle from Daniel. “You don’t think the police suspect a hoax, do you?”
“I think that’s exactly what they suspect. Can you think of any other logical explanation?”
“Me? No. But I can’t believe Ravenna’s capable of anything like that.” He stares off in the direction of the departed Detective Smith, rubbing his hand over the top of his head and looking so shaken that I feel sorry for him. But of course no one ever knew the real Ravenna like I did, so this has all got to be a huge shock to the staff. “What about an abduction? Kidnapping? Maybe she was a victim of sex trafficking or something, but then she escaped or they let her go. I just… What a crazy situation. I’m glad she’s safe, but I’m sorry it’s unfolding like this.”
While I appreciate the loyalty and concern, I don’t feel like debating the issue with him. Nor do I need his pity. “Thanks,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’re done here. Let’s go.”
We walk up the path back to the house in silence and part ways when he heads for his car.
He waves. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
With that, I head straight for the cottage, determined to see Tamsyn again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LUCIEN
I make it several steps before my better nature, such as it is, kicks in. I’m trying to be a good guy here and give Tamsyn the space she just asked for. It’s not too much to ask. Doesn’t she deserve that from me? Yeah. She does.
So I go instead to my study to divert myself. I’ll catch up on some work for the Vanderbilt deal for a couple of hours. Believe it or not, the finance world doesn’t care about my personal crisis, and billions are riding on this thing closing in a few days.
I put in a call to the lawyers, then one to my brother. I already phoned Roman earlier to bring him up to speed on Ravenna’s resurrection, but we also have business to discuss, since we run the family company together.
I’m starving after all that. So I head to the kitchen and make short work of the grilled swordfish dinner that Chef left for me in the fridge. My good behavior continues as I trudge upstairs and hit the shower, letting the hot water work some of the kinks out of my shoulders. I’m freaking saintly with the good deeds. Until I remember that the last time I was in the shower was with Tamsyn, and my entire body clenches with longing and need.
Fuck my life.
Was it only last night that we showered together? How can a million years pass in the span of twenty-four hours? When will I get a grip on my growing obsession with her? Soon? Ever?
I get out and towel off, then throw on my T-shirt and knit shorts the way I do every other night of my life. Then it’s back downstairs for my nightly scotch. I’ve got my drink in hand as I roam the house, clicking off lights and double-checking locks, and I actually go so far as to congratulate myself on my unexpected success. Look at me. Tamsyn asked for space, and I gave her space. Well done, man. I feel fully entitled to a Nobel Prize in discipline. I hit the stairs again, planning to retire for the night with full honors. My plan is to go to bed alone and stay there. Swear to God.
But then a little devil whispers into my ear that I should look out the window at the cottage and make sure she’s okay. Just to make sure there’s no, I don’t know, smoke pouring from the windows or any other sign of distress. Maybe she needs an extra pillow or a few more rolls of toilet paper. Someone should check, and I’m the only one left on the grounds to do it.
So I head to one of the front windows, still sipping and still determined to stay right here where I belong. Until I see the golden glow of lights from her shaded windows and the telltale blue flicker of the television.
Not exactly flares at sea or the Bat-Signal. But I still feel irrevocably drawn to her.
So much for my good behavior.
I set my drink down, open the big door and head across the lawn to her. Which was surely a foregone conclusion anyway, despite my best intentions. The next thing I know, I’m tapping on her door and praying for a plausible excuse to pop into my mind. Oh, hey. Just wanted to make sure you had enough toothpaste and mouthwash. Something like that. But there’s nothing.
The door swings open and there she is. My…what? My joy and peace? My comfort? My girlfriend? Why do those words feel comically insignificant compared to the way my heart pounds when I see her? With her makeup gone, her feet bare and her body in a short and virginal white cotton summer nightgown that shows her pretty pink nipples through the triangle cups, she has zero idea that she brings my sunshine with her when she comes and takes it away again when she leaves.
And I plan to keep it that way.
It takes a great deal of effort for me to drag my attention back up to her eyes, but I eventually manage it. “Hey.”
She gives me a wry half-smile. “Lucien. What a complete shock to see you again tonight after I said I’d see you tomorrow.”
I shrug, unrepentant if it gets me what I want. “I’m nothing if not true to form. Neither one of us really expected me to stay away from you the whole night. Can I come in?”
“That doesn’t seem like a good idea,” she says even though she looks tempted.
“I’ll just stay for a minute.” I edge past her and glance at the TV, where the frozen image of a couple in a steamy clinch fills the screen. “Is that a carriage?”