Page 129 of Lethal Torture
Extremely relieved he seems disinterested in my exchange with Rhys Stewart, I nod. “I did.”
Luke shakes his head, frowning. “That isnotgoing to end well. Roman clearly doesn’t know about it, or Alexei would be dead already.”
“I’m not sure Alexei is necessarily in the wrong here.” I meet his skeptical look. “You saw him,” I say. “It’s obvious that Alexei didn’t want to be there tonight. He arrived late—deliberately, I would guess—to avoid disturbing Ofelia before her performance, then left before he could disrupt the aftermath. My guess is that she has a high-level crush, and Alexei is doing his best not to encourage it.”
“Hmm.” Luke’s skeptical expression doesn’t change. “It looked like more than that to me. Why are you laughing?” He gives me a quizzical look.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “You just sound exactly like a protective father.”
“Ha.” Despite his light tone, there’s a strangely grim twist to his mouth. “Doubt that’s something I’m ever likely to know much about.” His phone rings, saving me from asking what he might have meant. It’s Anatoly with a question about one of the functions we have on. To my sneaking relief, their conversation lasts the rest of the way to the Quartier.
Thinking about Luke and fatherhood at the same time raises a thousand questions I feel completely unprepared to answer.
Particularly after Rhys Stewart’s not-so-subtle threats.
Not to mention after watching Luke with Ofelia tonight.
Without warning, all the doubts Darya helped me push aside, about Luke’s place in my world and what that world will do to him, come flooding back with a vengeance.
A man like Luke deserves to be a father.
I think of the gentle way he dealt with Ofelia, the utter trust in her eyes when she looked at him.
He deserves to have a daughter who stares at him exactly like that,I think.Like he’s the hero of her world, not the demon threatening to destroy it.
And that’s something I just can’t give him.
Even if I can have children—something I wouldn’t know, having been put on birth control by my father in my early teens and having chosen to keep myself on it ever since—I know I’m not cut out for motherhood.
I don’t belong in the sunlit life shining out from the photograph beside Luke’s bed. And regardless of Darya’s assurances, or Luke’s seeming determination to remain in myworld, deep down I know that expecting him to remain in it is fundamentally wrong.
The car pulls up outside the Quartier, and I open the door, accepting Anatoly’s arm before Luke can ask any awkward questions. “Thanks for filling in for Charlie,” I say without looking at him. “I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”
I leave him in the driver’s seat and walk inside, resisting an almost painful urge to turn around, then run back to the car and throw myself into his arms.
For the next several hours,despite being on the premises, Luke doesn’t contact me at all. I should be grateful for his distance.
Instead I hate every fucking minute of silence and find it almost impossible to concentrate.
The sooner this whole thing is done with, the better.
I’d go home, but the final stage show of the night is about to start, and we have a full enough house that I’m reluctant to leave until it’s done. I’m still trying to convince myself I’m right to back things off with Luke when my phone lights up with his name.
Oh, thank God.
I snatch the phone up off the table and answer it immediately. “Luke, I’m so sorry—”
“Look at the security cameras.” He cuts me off before I can begin to explain myself, and something in his voice makes me turn immediately to see what he’s talking about.
It only takes one glance at the screen to understand his tension.
Lars Andersson’s unmistakable tall, gangly figure is walking through the balcony seats of the Quartier, toward one of the premium private booths. Clinging to his hand, still dressed in midnight silk from her performance but having clearly consumed something more intoxicating than rich desserts, a slightly disheveled Ofelia stares around the club with wide, fascinated eyes.
“Oh,fuck,” I mutter into the phone.
“No shit.” Luke sounds ready to kill something. “The new guy didn’t check with Anatoly or me when he let them in, which isn’t that surprising, since Lars not only has a membership, but also has his face splattered over the internet every other day. And Nadja didn’t recognize Ofelia when he signed her in as his guest.”
“Clearly we have to get her out of there.”
