Page 34 of Hush Money

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says, reminding me that I’d also forgotten how mellow and throaty her voice is.

“It’s okay. But Lucien just left for the hospital to see you. He thinks you’re still there.”

“They discharged me. The nurse called him. Several times. But he wasn’t answering his phone. I waited a while, then decided to surprise him. Daniel picked me up.”

This is all a matter of fact, with no reproach, but tell that to my squirming conscience. If Lucien hadn’t been gallivanting around Bushwick cemeteries with me all morning, he would’ve been available to bring his injured wife home. In my entire life, I’ve never felt like such a shitty person.

“We should call him before he gets all the way to the hospital,” I say.

“In a minute.” She takes a deep breath and stands a little straighter. “I was hoping to talk to you anyway.”

I stiffen. This is not good. Nothing positive can come from such a conversation. Lucien wouldn’t like it, for one thing. My guilty conscience hates the idea, for another. But what am I going to do? Tell her to get the hell out of my cottage on the grounds of her estate?

“Oh, okay,” I say, stalling while I wait for inspiration or maybe divine intervention to get me out of this. “How are you feeling? Better, I hope.”

“Much better.” She touches her bandage. “The headache is almost gone now. They gave me fluids for dehydration. I met with all kinds of doctors.” There’s a heavy pause. “I know you’re a nurse, but I don’t really want to talk to you about my medical issues. I want to talk to you about Lucien.”

Of course she does. Oh, God. Oh, shit. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Ravenna.”

“You’re right. It’s not my place to warn you. We’re not friends.”

Wait, what? She wants to warn me? I thought she wanted to tell me to go fuck myself and leave her husband alone. “You’re right. We’re not friends.”

“But you’re so young.” She flashes the beginnings of a wistful smile as she comes out from behind the desk, bringing the stack of pictures with her. “You remind me of me.”

That’s hard to imagine. The two of us couldn’t be less alike, from our appearances to our backgrounds and, probably, hobbies and sexual styles. There’s just no way.

“I think the only thing we have in common is that we both care about Lucien,” I say quietly, gesturing over my shoulder because I’m desperate to get the fuck out of here. “I really should call him.”

“You’re wrong. We have something else in common. We’ve both been on the receiving end of Lucien’s intensity. It’s such a thrill when a sexy man like that focuses on you.” She gets a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes. Meanwhile, a pretty blush seeps into her cheeks, making her more stunning, if such a thing is even possible. And I don’t need to be Detective Smith or even very bright to detect that she’s lost in some sensual memory. “I may not have all my memory back, but there are some things a woman never forgets. And I know you know what I’m talking about, Tamsyn.”

As I stand there with jealousy ravaging my guts with sharp little teeth, I certainly do know what she’s talking about. And it’s hard to keep the edge out of my voice. “What’s your point, Ravenna?”

Her attention flicks back to me, sharp and focused now. “You need to know that he has a dark side.”

Whatever I expected, it wasn’t this. Something about the two of them still loving each other, maybe, or her refusing to give him a divorce. Not this. “Dark side?”

“I see you don’t believe me.” She shakes her head, shoulders drooping. “No one ever believed me.”

She’s wrong. I do believe her. I’ve already seen glimpses of his dark side back when we were on the cruise. Like his flashes of jealousy when he thought another man was interested in me. And the time he issued the stark warning that I should forget him and find someone my own age to play with.

“He’s so controlling. It’s his nature. He can’t help himself. Little things at first. Like our activities.”

I think about Lucien engineering private tours in all our ports of call for Mrs. Hooper so he could have me to himself during our trip.

“And who I could talk to…”

I shift uncomfortably. I wonder how assertive (aggressive?) Lucien would have become with the guy on the cruise (or any man who had the temerity to hit on me) if he hadn’t taken the hint and left when he did.

“…until it felt like he controlled every thought in my head. I never did anything without thinking about whether he’d be pleased or not.”

“I see,” I say, feeling sick because God knows I haven’t had a Lucien free minute or decision since I laid eyes on him.

“Lucien runs hot and cold. That’s the thing you need to understand. Being with him is like being in the heart of the sun. It’s the strongest drug. The highest high. There’s nothing better. You can’t tell him no. You don’t want anything but him.” She pauses, nostrils flaring, and I’m afraid she’s going to get teary again. “But when he turns his face away from you, you’re in Siberia. You can’t figure out how to warm up again. But you can’t stop trying because you can’t forget how hot it was. You can’t let him go even though you know he’s ruining you. It’s like you’d rather be ruined than let him go.”

There it is, folks. My worst fears about Lucien summarized in a succinct paragraph by the woman who experienced the exact same feelings before me. I open my mouth, but it takes me a beat or two to swallow the bile rising into bitterness on the back of my tongue. Luckily, some sort of twisted pride kicks in, refusing to allow me to show her how shaken I am by this speech. “Well. Thanks for the warning. I’m going to go call Lucien now.”

I turn to go, relieved that I’ve survived the encounter. A little wounded, but still in one piece.

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