Page 621 of Flirting with Darkness

When he opened his eyes, however, she was staring at his chest.

Her gaze narrowed, her perfect mouth pursed in bewilderment.

“Where the hell is your tattoo?” she asked.

He blinked, staring at her.

Then he reached for his shirt, and began buttoning up the front of it.

“Natalie,” he said, still fighting to catch his breath. “We must speak.”

“Where’s your tattoo, Laz?” she demanded, staring up at him. “That time-eye-vortex thing on your chest. Where the fuck is it? You’ve had that since I met you.”

“Nat––”

“Stop calling me that!” she snapped, panting as she stared at him.

For a few seconds, he had no words to say.

Then down below, a loud, discordant sound made both of them flinch.

It seemed to come from some sound-generating machine overhead.

Then the man at the podium began to speak, his voice amplified so loudly Ghost couldn’t help but frown, staring down over the balcony.

When he glanced back, Natalie was still staring at him, her eyes openly wary.

Looking at her, he realized again but a complete bastard he was.

“I am sorry,” he began.

“Ghost––”

He caught hold of her arm.

“We will do this first,” he said, a promise in his voice. “We will do this, since it is important to you… and to him… then I will tell you everything. I vow I will. And I am so sorry I did not tell you before now…”

“Him?” She looked at him, bewildered. “Who the hell is ‘him,’ Ghost? What are you even talking about?”

He didn’t answer.

Truthfully, he didn’t know how to answer.

Not without getting into this now.

He’d just told her they wouldn’t get into this now.

He was still trying to decide when his eyes drifted over the balcony, taking in the rest of the room. He glanced at the podium first, where the man with the thinning gray hair had begun to speak in a sharp, rapid, auctioneer’s sing-song voice.

An item now displayed on the previously blank projection screen.

That same item, a painting of what appeared to be a young ballerina, also stood at the center of the stage on a three-legged stand, the image bright inside a gilded frame.

Ghost’s eyes had begun to slide away when he did a sudden double-take.

Once he had, he found himself staring at a different face entirely.

He couldn’t believe it at first.

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