Page 12 of Final Cost

Luckily, I can find both in the library downstairs. As long as I don’t run into Lucien, I’ve got a perfect plan.

I tiptoe out of the bedroom and set off down the long and chilly hallway, guided by the occasional softly lit wall sconce and propelled by the prickles running up and down my spine. Ackerley descends into an eerie silence every night once the staff goes home. The common spaces always creep me out a little. The occasional floor squeak gets magnified somehow. Shadows stretch and seem to press closer on all sides just out of your field of vision. Worst of all, you feel like eyes are watching you the whole time. If it’s not a member of staff peering around a corner or a security guy watching you on the video feed, then it’s gotta be the portraits lining the walls. Plus, there’s a scent in the air tonight. Something sophisticated and oriental, like some high-end perfume that they keep behind the glass cases at Bergdorf’s. Not exactly the kind of thing the maids would wear or you’d find in a plug-in air freshener.

And I don’t care if that makes me sound like Shaggy or Daphne fromScooby-Doo. I’m not crazy. I feel what I feel. I smell what I smell.

If Lucien ever loses his fortune, God forbid, he’ll quickly make another one by opening the house for scares every Halloween. It wouldn’t surprise me if the place had a ghost or two drifting along dark ceiling corners with the crown molding, watching the living. Maybe they are up there welcoming Ravenna to their ranks right now.

The most unsettling thing about Ackerley is that it’s hard not to let your imagination run away with you when you’re here and alone with your thoughts. But I can’t let myself go wild. I know that. There’s nothing crazy going on here. Nothing supernatural, anyway. It’s just a big house with tall ceilings, priceless antiques, ornate drapes and echoing staircases. I need to remember that and not let my jangled nerves get the best of me.

I make it downstairs and head down yet another long hallway to the library. No signs of life anywhere. I’m turning into the library and congratulating myself on a perfectly executed plan when a sudden shiver of awareness along my nape stops me in my tracks. There’s a fire crackling in the fireplace. Not the kind of thing I expected, but the summer night is unexpectedly cool. And the weirdness doesn’t stop there. My beloved historical romance books are prominently stacked in a large pyramid in the middle of the coffee table, directly in my line of sight. My heart is already sinking by the time I hear the creak of leather behind me and Lucien’s voice, deep and velvety.

“About time.”

I shoot him a quick and annoyed glance over my shoulder, my startled heart alternately racing through and skipping beats because the scene is cozy and sexy. The perfect setting for a seduction, and he’s the Seducer in Chief even if I remind myself not to become the willing seduce-ee. He’s sitting in the tall wingback chair in the corner, one ankle crossed over the other knee and an arm draped over the chair’s arm. His father’s gold signet ring, the one I put on him the other day, glints in the flickering firelight. His strong fingers hold a crystal tumbler of what I’m sure is the exact whiskey I came down here looking for. Shadows perversely keep most of his face dark but allow the gleam of his eyes to shine through, strong and bright.

My equilibrium shifts a bit more off kilter.

But I’m committed to my performance as an indifferent former girlfriend, a role I feel I inhabited well this afternoon when I first saw him again. So I keep my head up and go directly to my books on the coffee table, taking my time looking through them and checking the spines.

“What are you doing here?” I say without looking at him.

“Waiting for you.”

I should have known. I can’t say I’m surprised. “Is that why you moved my books down here?”

“Yep,” he says, not bothering to disguise the low hum of satisfaction in his voice.

It’s late and I’m tired. He affects me no matter how much I try to resist his power. It’s like he emits some irresistible pheromone that slips under my skin and makes my blood sizzle and my pussy and nipples tighten anytime he’s in the vicinity. All those factors combine to make it hard for me to either maintain my aloof routine or hide my annoyance as my head snaps up and I glare at him.

He shifts in the chair, coming into the light from the lamp on the nearby console as he rests his elbows on his knees and stares at me. He doesn’t look great. I noticed that right away when I saw him earlier. He’s hollow eyed and his cheekbones stand out in starker lines than normal. His dark hair, normally so sleek, looks ruffled now, making me think he’s been running his hands through it. He’s waiting. Expectant. And I’ll be damned to an eternity in hell before I give him the satisfaction of revealing the depth of my heartbreak to him.

“What you want, Lucien?” I say, keeping my voice even.

“To talk to you.”

Irritable shrug from me. “Why the manipulation with my books? Why not a simple request?”

Those heavy brows of his sink low over his eyes. “Why waste time with that? So you can refuse the way you tried to refuse my request for you to come back here? The way you refused my request to talk to you earlier?”

“You can’t blame me for that. Our last real talk didn’t go so well as I recall.”

There’s a long and painful pause followed by a crooked smile from him. “Ms. Scott. Will you do me the honor of joining me in a drink so I can talk to you?”

Adrink?—?

He really is unbelievable. His arrogance knows no bounds. I’ve always known that about him. I wonder why I still find it so compelling. “I’m not having a drink with you.”

Now finished with my selection of some books, I straighten and take a couple of purposeful steps back toward the door. A mistake, as it turns out. Because he chooses that exact moment to unfold his big and lean body from his chair and cross to the drink cart behind me on a trajectory that causes him to brush my shoulder as he passes. And I could have moved. I admit that. But I’m too proud to give him the satisfaction of knowing gets to me. Too hungry for even the tiniest hit of his latent energy and heat from his body. He delivers both in spades, along with a subtle hint of his clean and woodsy cologne that makes my nostrils dilate and my breath catch.

“Why not?” he says as he continues on his way, thankfully releasing me from the force field of his body. “You look as wired as I feel. It’s been a busy day. You like whiskey before bed the same as I do.”

He grabs another tumbler from the drink cart and splashes both glasses with a couple of fingers. My mouth waters, although whether it’s from the promise of whiskey or him is anybody’s guess. And I still don’t leave. When he comes back and offers me a glass, I take it with my free hand. But I don’t drink it in front of him. I don’t want to give him another win when I know he’s whittling away at my self-restraint, corrupting me bit by bit.

He wants me back, to fuck me if nothing else. He’s not going to, though. EvenIam not that stupid.

“Why did you come back, Ms. Scott?” he says, lingering in my space rather than heading back to his chair.

“I told you.”

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