Page 18 of Final Cost

“Sorry, but I’m done with this conversation, Roman,” I say, working hard to avoid direct eye contact.

“Hang on,” he says sharply, eyes narrowing. “You don’t think he did it…? Isthatwhat this is about?”

“No,” I say, frowning and shrugging, but it’s not exactly a wholehearted denial. “Not really.”

“Tamsyn. He didn’t do it. Lucien’s not a killer.” I open my mouth but he reads my mind. “And he didn’t hire anyone to do it. How could you think that? Even for one second?”

I’m ashamed of myself, but the thoughts are there. “Because I saw how much he hated her. And he’s the most powerful man I’ve ever met.”

“Tamsyn.” He takes my wrist in his hard grip. “I don’t know what happened to Ravenna, but Lucien didn’t do it. Think about it. He hated her for years before you showed up. Why would he do it now?”

Whoa. Why didn’t I think of that before? He’s got enough of a point that I feel a swoop of relief. Until I remember how enraged Lucien was when Ravenna tried to kill me. But I don’t want to mention that. It seems so overblown and self-important. Most of all, I want to cling to any theory that makes Lucien an innocent man.

“Can we move on?” I ask Roman. “It’s not even noon and my head feels like it’s exploded six or eight times already.”

A gleam of respect. “You’re the boss. Thanks for listening. What do you want to talk about?”

Sighing, I slump back against my chair again, slam all that Lucien stuff into my darkest mental closet, lock the door and swallow the key. “Well, for one thing, I need to figure out what to do with myself today. What about you? Are you headed back to the city?”

“Nope. I need to give my horse a workout.”

This information perks me right up. Lucien mentioned they have horses here, but I never got to see them. “Oh, really? You have a horse, too? Can I come with you to see him or her? I’ve never met a horse in person before.”

He snorts into his coffee, then lowers the cup and wipes his mouth. “You’ve never met a horse? How is that possible?”

“Your wealth is showing, Roman. I don’t know if you’ve ever actually been to Brooklyn, but horses are thin on the ground where I come from. They aren’t growing on trees like they are out here in Great Neck.

That gets him. He bursts into laughter. “Sorry about that. I had no idea that such third world conditions were possible in the great state of New York.”

“Well, they are,” I say, laughing with him.

Until a loud and icy new voice enters the fray. Lucien’s voice.

“What the fuck is this?” he demands.

8

Lucien

The surging hostilityin my voice is probably unnecessary but, like everything else in my life these days, it’s beyond my control. It’s already been a shit day despite my best efforts, and it’s not even ten in the morning. I finished my daily round of grueling exercise to manage my simmering dread (are they going to arrest me?) and growing sexual frustration about the Tamsyn situation. I whacked off in the shower so I wouldn’t swallow her whole the next time I saw her. Oh, and I fielded a quick call from the office wherein my assistant offloadedmorebad news to get my day started right. There are more problems with the never-ending Vanderbilt project. Upsetting market fluctuations based on my perilous legal situation. Plus, the PR folks are shitting bricks over same and want to schedule a meeting with me.

It’s been wall-to-wall shit since my feet hit the floor at the crack o’ dawn after a sleepless night. And now I stumble ontothiscozy little scene.

It’s the stuff of nightmares: Tamsyn and Roman with their heads together over a nice breakfast. Laughing. Possibly flirting, at least on Roman’s end. Talking about the horses thatI’dplanned to show Tamsyn before the world went sideways on us.

Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me.

My mood isn’t helped by the way their shining faces close off at the sight of me, two happy campers whose day is ruined by the arrival of the asshole counselor everyone hates. I know it’s my fault with Tamsyn. I deserve it. The fact that she doesn’t spit in my face every time she sees me is a miracle in itself. I’m grateful for that much grace from her. But I don’t like being on the dark side of Tamsyn’s moon while Roman parks his ass in the light. I don’t like it at all.

“You’re just in time, Lucien.” Roman is all poorly concealed mischief, his shit eating grin barely contained. The two of us never quite learned how to not stick it to each other when we’re down. What can I say? Brotherly competition runs deep. And I’d do the same thing to him in a heartbeat if the roles were reversed. The fucker. “Tam wants to see the horses.”

I register this use of a nickname for her the way Koreans register any movement along their demilitarized zone. It isn’t an open act of war, but it’s tiptoeing awfully close to the line. “I can show Tamsyn anything she needs to see,” I tell him, my smile and tone as chilling as I can make them.

Bright surprise from Roman. “Really? Looks like you’re going to work. You’ve got your shirtsleeves on and all.”

My twitchy fingers ache to punch that fake bafflement off his face. It’s been a minute since Roman and I engaged in actual fisticuffs, so my vehemence surprises me. If I recall correctly, the last time was during my winter break from college, when I came home and discovered he’d been making liberal use of my bedroom — specifically my collection of EDM vinyl, custom shoes and gaming computer — in my absence. As I also recall, I roughed him up pretty good the time before that, when he scratched my car. I caught hell from Mom and Dad after, but it was entirely worth it. Maybe this asshole needs a reminder of what I can still do in terms of black eyes and bloody noses.

“Not to worry. I just have a conference call in a few minutes.” I stare him down, silently begging him to say one more fucking word. “So I’m available for horse introductions.”

---