Page 13 of Final Cost

“I see.” He sips his drink, muscles flexing in the strong column of his throat. “Not because you wanted to see me?”

Seething now, I fight the wild urge to toss my drink in his face. But that would be a waste of very fine whiskey. It would give me tremendous satisfaction, though. The galling arrogance. The unerring accuracy of his observations. I could kill him. Because he’s right. Ididwant to see him. That’s why I’m here. Bottom line. Despite all my self-protective instincts desperately waving giant red flags at me.

I came back because I missed him. I’m here because I wanted to see him. But fuck him.

Fuck. Him.

I fake a yawn. “You always were your own biggest fan, weren’t you? What do you need to talk to me about, Lucien? It’s late. I’m tired.”

He hesitates, his jaw darkening. “Ravenna is dead. Really dead this time.”

I open my mouth, but it takes me a long time to fish out something to say that feels right but honest. “I know. I can’t quite bring myself to offer condolences.”

Wry smile. “Understandable. I’m planning her funeral. Let’s just say it’s strange worrying about flowers when what I really want to do is ask the coroner if I can drive a stake through her heart to make sure there’s no chance of another resurrection.”

I grimace. “Understandable.”

He pauses. “The police probably think I did it. Or hired someone to do it.”

I wait for his denial, but he doesn’t offer one. So the question hangs in the air. No matter what happened to Ravenna, it looks bad for Lucien. I know that. It always looks bad for the spouse of the murdered person.

And then a bunch of unwanted memories crowd into the forefront of my mind. Like his blind fury when he kicked Ravenna out of the house and again when she set the fire. He’d looked enraged both times.

No, not enraged. Murderous. Yet I’ve never been afraid of him.

Maybe I should be. He’s big enough to hurt a woman. Strong enough. Powerful enough.

I don’t want to look directly at him, but I find myself searching his face as we stand there in a strained silence. I need reassurance. I need to know that while he may be an asshole, he’s not a wife killer and never would be under any circumstances. I want him to say he didn’t do it, but he doesn’t. Maybe he wants me to tell him I don’t think that he did it, but I don’t. I’m not sure I could even if I was willing to give him the satisfaction.

What does that mean? What does that say about either of us? I don’t know. And it’s far too late to matter anyway. There’s too much water under our bridge. But it seems like another death knell for our relationship, such as it was.

Maybe what I’m truly afraid of is that I’d understand if he killed Ravenna in a heat of the moment situation. Isn’t that my all-time worst case scenario? That I’ll always love him and find a way to forgive him no matter what cruel acts he commits?

A shiver runs through me at the thought. But I can’t look away.

He stares back, that unfathomable gaze locked in on me. I feel that pull to him again, and it’s not just physical this time. I’m scared for him even if I’m not scared of him. I hate him, yeah, but I don’t want to see him in prison. I also don’t want to give him any fuel, but I want to know. Ineedto know.

“Do you have a good lawyer?” I ask quietly.

Something eases in his expression. “The best.”

I nod, commanding myself to be satisfied with this answer and to leave it alone. “So you’ll be fine. Rich people always get off, don’t they?”

“Guess we’ll find out.” His jaw tightens. “Tamsyn… About what I said. The day you left.”

This reminder of that ugly scene is just the ice water I need to run through my veins and cool me off a little. Hell, I’m grateful for it. “It’s fine. You did me a favor.”

He grimaces and cocks his ear. “Afavor?”

“It never would have worked between us. We both know it.”

“Oh?”

“I want a real relationship. A real life with someone.” I give him a pointed once over. “You want new chess pieces to play with when you get bored. I’m over being a chess piece. Not that it wasn’t fun while it lasted. Are we done?”

He stiffens, his face flooding with color. “I never saw you as a chess piece.”

That gets an unwilling bark of laughter out of me. “We disagree, but it doesn’t matter. Like I said, we can stay out of each other’s way while I’m here. I’m sure we’ll barely see each other, anyway. And I won’t be here for long. Hopefully.”

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