Page 10 of Hush Money

That gets him. He eases down, but only a little.

“Of course not.” He roughly runs his hands over the top of his head, radiating frustration. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Well, you are. You’re insulting both of us. She’s right down the hall and she’s injured.”

He seems chastened, thank God. It takes him a couple of beats to reformulate his plan of attack. “I’m aware of that. I’m not proud of myself, but I don’t know what else to do. I have to talk sense to you.”

“Sense? Is this a joke? You’re the one who’s not making sense. Why would you even want me to stick around? What do you need me for when the love of your life is back?”

He stiffens, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes. “The love of my—? Why would you say that? You don’t know anything about my marriage.”

I have no idea why he’s looking at me like I’m crazy, but all I can do is laugh bitterly. “Well, you’re right about that. Why don’t you tell me? Since you’re so eager to talk and all.”

All his reserves go up again, blanking out his expression right in front of my eyes. “I can’t get into that with you.”

Another bitter laugh from me. “And there’s that emotional brick wall again. Another reason I need to get the hell out of here as fast as I can. Ackerley is no place for me. Not if I want to stay sane.”

He grimaces and pivots away from me, slamming both palms on the nearest side table and making the lamp wobble. “What the fuck do you want me to say, Tamsyn? Tell me, and I’ll say it.”

His explosion thrills me. I’m not going to lie. It’s wonderful to finally get a peek at the man hidden behind all that sophisticated reserve and control all the time. I feel like Howard Carter when he first cracked open King Tut’s tomb and caught a glimpse of all the glinting gold inside. I just want to know who Lucien is and what he thinks. Is that so much to ask?

“How about the truth?” I don’t even bother trying to keep my emotions or my voice under control. We’re so far past that. “Stop trying to protect me and just tell me the truth. For once. Just admit that your life fell apart when she died. You looked for her. You prayed for her to come back because you know you could never love anyone the way you loved her. Just admit it. You’ll be doing me a favor. Just tell me how much you loved her and?—”

“Loved her?” he roars. “I hated her!”

CHAPTER FIVE

TAMSYN

The force of his anger and rage—his malice—nearly causes me to keel over in shock. I wanted to see what’s inside him, yeah, but there’s no preparing for those twisted features and flashing eyes. I never thought his handsome face hid a gargoyle of bitterness.

“You…” I press a hand to my heart because there’s a real danger of my going into cardiac arrest as I try to make this all compute. I can’t separate Lucien from his love for Ravenna. It’s an immutable fact about him. He might as well say that he’s not a man or that he doesn’t have gray eyes. The world just doesn’t work that way. Those things are true whether he admits them or not. Plus, I’ve heard the stories about their legendary love. I’ve seen pictures of the happy couple on their wedding day. Was all that a lie? Was the grieving widower the same sort of fiction as a Harry Potter book? How is that possible? “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice is still rough, but he seems calmer now. I’d almost say there’s something triumphant about him. Something…free. “From the day I met Ravenna until the day she disappeared—hell, way beyond the day she disappeared—she made my life a living hell.”

“Oh my God.”

“She ran hot and then she ran cold.” He pauses, trying to get enough control over his sneering mouth to finish his thought. “She pulled me close and then she pushed me away. She loved me harder than I thought I could ever be loved, and then she taunted me twice as hard. I never knew where I stood with her. I just always knew that I was on cracking ice.”

I can only shake my head. There’s no way to reconcile this narrative with what I read online about him and always believed to be true. And I’m not the only one. Mrs. Hooper also believed it. She’s the one who told me they had a fairytale marriage that left Lucien broken when she died. Nor can I square what he’s saying with the wounded and vulnerable woman I’ve been caring for all night. Ravenna did all this? I just can’t believe any of it.

“How can that be true, Lucien? You were married to her for, what, eight years before she disappeared? Why didn’t you leave?”

A helpless shrug, after which it takes him several excruciating forevers to piece together his answer.

“At first? I didn’t believe what I was seeing.” He waves a hand at me. “Just like you are right now. Don’t get me wrong. We had a nice, long honeymoon period at first. She was more sweetness and light then.” There’s another painful pause while his jaw tightens. “My family tried to warn me about her. They said things were moving too fast. Hell, Roman begged me to get a prenuptial agreement in place before the wedding. He always had a bad feeling about her.” A hollow laugh. “But I knew better. I didn’t listen. And she came from family money herself, so I didn’t think she was after mine.”

That makes some sense, but not enough. “But… Just because she was moody doesn’t mean she’s a bad person, Lucien.”

“Moody?” He makes a strangled sound. “She was cruel. She did everything she could to make me jealous. She rubbed my face in every man who tried to hit on her. She flirted right in front of me. It ate me up inside.”

“Wait.” I stiffen. Lucien is the sexiest and most intriguing man imaginable. He’s smart, funny, handsome and endlessly fascinating. It’s inconceivable that anyone in their right mind would ever treat him that way. He’s more than enough for anyone. “She cheated on you?”

“I never had proof either way.” A dull flush rises over his cheeks. It seems to cost him a great deal of effort to maintain eye contact. “The suspicion was bad enough. And I was a fool to put up with the partying. The drugs.”

It takes me a minute to put together a response because I just don’t buy it. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I know what it costs such a proud man to admit something like this. And it’s not that I think he’s lying. I can see that he truly believes it. But I just can’t. I know women cheat sometimes. I’m not a fool. But I find it much easier to believe that a man like Lucien would cheat long before his wife would. What kind of fool would cheat on him?

“You don’t believe me,” he says, nostrils flaring. “Admit it.”

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