Page 14 of Bought By the Owner's Son
Lucian’s body goes rigid behind me. I look up at his face, pushing my head deeper into his chest. “Is something wrong?” I ask softly.
He places a lingering kiss on my temple. “It’s nothing, love. Go on with your story,” he answers.
I straighten my head and look down at our joined hands, needing the comfort of the sight to continue delving into my memories. “We became somewhat close—he would talk to me about his daughter, and his work. He was an artist. About a month ago, he entered the café with a painting, looking nervous, and like he was in a hurry. He gave me the art with a phone number and urged me to give it to his daughter and no one else.
“I took the piece to the back room to store it in my locker, and by the time I got back out, Warren had left. I didn’t think something was really wrong—I just thought he was late for a meeting or something and had to leave.” I shrug in Lucian’s arms even as sadness presses down on my chest.
“That night, I was walking to the nearest bus station when I passed by the alley at the end of the block…” My chest tightens with pain, and tears well up in my eyes, blinding me as I clutch Lucian’s hand tighter.
He turns me in his arms, pressing the side of my face to his chest and caressing my hair as he places kisses on my temple and forehead in a tender and intimate gesture. “Take your time, love,” he whispers.
I shiver softly in his arms. “Warren was on his knees, his back to the street. And a man was pressing a gun against his temple. I heard Warren say, ‘You’ll never find it,’ before his murderer pulled the trigger and killed him. I think I made a sound—I was in shock. I ran…I was so scared.”
In a voice tight with tears, I say, “I didn’t know I was being followed, so I slowed down, trying to catch my breath. Then I heard footsteps behind me and I started running again, but it was dark and I couldn’t see. I turned to look back, and then I tripped and…I hit my head, and the next thing I knew I was waking up in the auction house without my memories.”
I shift my teary gaze up and Lucian’s impassive eyes. “And I would have encountered much worse if you hadn’t saved me from the auction house. Thank you, Lucian.” I wrap my arms around his neck.
“Elena, I would do anything for you.” His words are a dark promise that steals my breath.
“I know.”
We stare at one another in silence as I come to terms with everything I’ve remembered. I don’t know what to do or how to move on from it all. Being with Lucian seems like the start of a new life for me. I can’t deny how I feel for him, but I can’t move on with him without laying Warren’s soul to rest.
Lucian’s deep voice penetrates my thoughts. “You left the painting in your locker that night?”
I nod. “I didn’t want to carry it on the bus, so I was going to leave it at the café until I got ahold of his daughter.”
“What’s the name of the café and where is it?” he asks.
“Moss and Moonlight Café. It’s in downtown Seattle, on Pine Street,” I reply.
“Do you remember the killer’s face? Can you describe him?”
The man’s face instantly flashes in my mind, and I wince, nodding. “I know him so well that I don’t even have to describehim. He’s a regular at the café too. It’s the senator—Senator Walter.”
Lucian goes rigid behind me, and then immediately relaxes. It’s so fleeting that I assume I imagined it. “I see,” he says, his voice betraying nothing.
“I want him to pay for what he did,” I beseech softly. “I want to tell the police everything I remember.”
“I know you do,” he says gently. “But right now, you need to rest. It’s late and you need your wits about you if you want to talk to the cops.” He grazes his knuckles down my cheek.
A delicious shiver wracks my body. “Okay.”
Lucian slides his body out from behind me with an ease that belies his size. “I want to quickly make some calls. I’ll join you soon.”
He leans down and takes my lips in a deep but gentle kiss, sliding his tongue into my mouth and branding his taste on me. But the kiss stops just as soon as it begins, and he arranges the pillow behind my head, pulling the sheet around me.
“I’ll be back soon. Sleep,” he orders softly, placing a chaste kiss on my lips.
I watch him leave, feeling bereft at his absence even with the taste of him lingering on my tongue. I sigh softly, feeling languid and soft from the kiss. But it isn’t long before the past intrudes on my thoughts again and I’m back to thinking about the death of Warren Flint, battling a strangling guilt.
It’s going to be a long night…
Chapter Eight
Lucian
My father is a fucking asshole…
