Page 137 of The Twilight Theft

He flicked his gaze to my feet and my standard black sneakers. “Take them off.”

There was no point in arguing, so I did as I was told. I placed the heel of one foot against the toe of the other and slipped the shoe off. When my sock touched the floor, I understood. “In-floor heating?”

He took my hand as I removed the other shoe and curled my toes against the hardwood. “You like your feet warm.”

“I do.” Before I could pull him to me, he started from the foyer, past the dining room.

“And you like my cooking.”

“Almost as much as your baking.”

He stopped as we rounded one of the pillars and reached the kitchen’s huge marble-topped island. He’d set out trays with cheeses, meats, and crackers, along with two glasses of red wine. Cooling racks held fresh cookies and sugar-dusted pastries.

Two wall ovens were on, as was an element on the gas stove, heating something in a small stainless pot. A pot filler extended from the tiled backsplash and a range hood decorated in paneling to match the cabinets hung from above. Along the back wall of the house, the big sink sat in a long row of lower cabinets with a dishwasher and wine fridge, but above it was all windows. Plus an ultra-fancy coffee maker.I wonder if it makes nitrogen bubbles.

This kitchen was a chef’s dream.

With the view of the water, it must have been Drew’s dream. Although the food he was making was from one of my dreams. “If I’m not dead, am I still asleep?”

He let go of me and crossed to the stovetop. “Emmett texted before you touched down. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I made a little of everything.”

“What I’d like?” It was two in the morning. What I’d wanted when we arrived was sleep. I dropped my shoulder bag on the island. “I’d like my hug hello.”

“We need to finish this conversation first.”

That was never a good sign. “Can you give me the TL;DR?”

“I went to DC after Ottawa, to hand the final pieces of Gideon’s crisis plan over to Zaria.” Drew took the lid off the pot, steam curling up from some bubbling liquid. “With Craig facing such a long list of charges—extortion, theft, conspiracy, industrial espionage—Bishop and Associates is done for. But Zaria and Byron think they can make a go of things with a few new hires.”

“You’re not going back?”

“I also met with Gideon about my investigation into Liana’s role in everything. One of the many tidbits I discovered was her little house she used for painting retreats.” He waved his hand, gesturing around the room. “Apparently she’d have five or six friends stay here regularly and they’d set up a wall of easels on the big stone patio out back.”

“This is Liana’s house?” I tried suppressing a yawn. I was too tired for this to make sense. The great room behind me had two huge leather couches. I could sleep on one of those.

“Itwas. I also discovered one of those friends was her lover.” He put the pot lid back on and turned to me, leaning on the island.

“And we’re waiting for him to show up?”

He shook his head slowly. “In public, Gideon’s doing a fantastic job of playing the shocked husband, while the tabloids rake her over the coals. Behind the scenes? He’s already changed his will to cut Liana out, made an anonymous donation to Craig’s daughter-in-law’s medical bills, and is pushing his EPRC into full production. He’s also so pissed with Liana—and happy with my work—that he offered me the house at a price I could afford.”

That, plus a job offer from Evelyn? He was moving to Halifax? So why was he keeping his distance?

“Drew, I am too tired for this. Can you lay it out for me?”

“I thought about visiting Vanessa while I was there. It sounds like her angle was only monetary—she didn’t buy into the phoenix crap. I don’t know everything the prosecutors have on them, but she and Liana are up on the same charges as Craig. Wyatt might be the only one who’s out of prison inside five years, and I expect he’ll leverage the intel he gathered on the others to ensure that happens.”

“No word on Enzo or Noah?”

“None.”

I pulled out one of the bar chairs tucked neatly under the island’s breakfast bar and sat before I crashed on the floor. “What now?”

“Sweetheart, I want to do work that matters. I want to unravel lies, not make more of them.” He balled his hands into fists. “I need a fresh start, so I packed up my wine collection and told Gideon I needed a few days to decide about the house.”

I yawned, unable to keep the fatigue at bay.

“And I went to see my parents before I left.”

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