“And?”
“She said it had something to do with you being a voyeur and interrupting the two of them one night.” I left out the part about him being obsessed with her. How silly it seemed to casually reference the man’s illegal hobby of spying on people while they fucked.
“Did she say anything else? Any positive observations?” Now he was the one trying to make the conversation seem casual.
I propped by chin on top of my fisted knuckles and scrutinized his. “Hmm…If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like Leda.”
He grunted and polished off the rest of his wine.
“I don’t like her,” he grimaced. “I love her.”
Lust, sex, and copulation were all hobbies of a satyr. I didn’t think love was one of them.
“I thought satyrs were non-committal, sexually perverse fiends,” I mocked.
The grin left his face. “Have you met Leda? Don’t take this personal, Alex, but there’s no other woman who could make me say those words. She is my true mate, and one day she will accept it.”
We sat in silence for the next few minutes. Even a satyr was not immune to the loosening effects of alcohol, and Constantine had clearly revealed more than he intended. For once, I held someone else’s secrets.
“What about you, Alex? What makes your heart pitter-patter?” he eventually asked. “Puppies…kittens…adorable children…Greer?”
You’re not getting in my head.
“Oh, but I am,” he said.
“I like puppies and kittens. Children, too.”
“But you don’t like Greer?”
I sat back in my chair and took a clarifying breath, checking myself before he got the reaction he was aiming for.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” I said. “If you think I’m telling you anything about my relationship with Greer, you’re wrong. Leda told me about the wards. It seems my private life is off limits to your nasty little habit.”
He nodded once, acknowledging my hit. Constantine was a man of many faces, particularly good at looking agreeable when I knew damn well he wouldn’t settle for anything less than what he wanted.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You may ask me anything you like,” he said, “and I will answer to the best of my ability.”
“Do you know where the amulet is?” I’m not sure why I hadn’t asked the question before. Constantine would have been an obvious suspect, but I guess I just assumed he’d been ruled out a long time ago.
A brief laugh ended with a snort as his expression morphed into a strategic mask. He didn’t blink once as he stared back at me, making me feel like a bright red stain against a white backdrop as his eyes pinned me in place. Something omnipotent was digging its way to the surface, and the voice inside me warned never to underestimate the playful predator sitting in the opposite chair.
My muscles tensed as his hand reached for the bottle and poured the last of the wine in my glass. He leaned in to steady a small tremor before placing the glass in my hand. His black onyx eyes turned into small scrying mirrors, ready to reveal secrets only he and the seeker could see. Something moved. I blinked, and then blinked again trying to resolve the image taking shape behind his glassy lenses—Maeve.
I pushed back in my chair as he reached forward and took my chin in his palm. The smell of wine emitted off his lips as they came within an inch of mine, and I froze as the strange scenario ran around my brain of what I’d do if he actually crossed that boundary.
“If I had the amulet,” he began as his breath pooled across my mouth, “you’d be in a bit of a bind, wouldn’t you, Alex?”
“You know something about her murder, don’t you?” I whispered around the lump obstructing my throat. I was no longer looking at a playful, benign creature who liked peering into the bedrooms of unsuspecting couples. The creature staring back at me was something to be reckoned with. A dark, beautiful skin covered the bones of something much more lethal, and I felt like I’d been duped into playing a sick game of chess where I was the pawn.
“I once told you that I knew everything,” he said. “Did you think I was just bragging?”
“I thought you were full of shit.”
“Good for you, Alex,” he said, never flicking his eyes from mine. “You are a rarity among your kind. A true fool in the face of danger. Most humans would cower and make some sad attempt at patronizing me. But not the child of Maeve Kelley. Not you, Alex.”
“If you know everything, then you know who killed her.” The realization grew clearer with each word. Constantine knew who killed my mother, and just as important, he knew why.
“Tell me,” I demanded.
“Some things are not mine to tell.”
“How can you be so cruel? How can you tell me this and then refuse to help me?”
I was ready to beg, but I knew better. Groveling would only make him pity me. I wasn’t dealing with human emotions, and begging would be viewed as weakness—the one thing I couldn’t show. I had to figure out what he was getting out of all this and use that information to manipulate him.
Something else crossed my mind. Greer had to know. He had to know that Constantine probably knew where the amulet was from day one. Why hadn’t Greer tried to force it out of him?
“Son of a—”
“For God’s sake, Alex. Why is it you never listen?”
“Listen? What the hell does that mean?”
“I’m not of your world. I live by a different code—one bound by balance.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I didn’t give a damn. Morality was pretty simple in my book. If you witnessed a crime, you came forward. There was nothing noble about hiding a killer or refusing to help prevent worldwide anarchy.
“What do you think would happen if everyone knew the truth about everything?” he asked. “If there were no more secrets or nothing left to be learned? The world would be nothing more than a vacuum, devoid of any satisfaction. There would be nothing left to experience.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” I muttered.
“Do you think it’s easy being perfect? Holding so much knowledge? Do you think I like being hated for that?”
I ignored his arrogant rambling and tried to reel the conversation back in. “Did you know her—personally?”
“Of course I knew her. I know all the witches who enter my city. I found you, didn’t I?”
“Then you must remember me.”
“Yes. I looked forward to seeing you grow into a woman. Pity when you disappeared.”
He fiddled with his empty glass, I suspect because our conversation was boring him or bordering on what he considered small talk. Under other circumstances this would have gotten me home sooner, but I needed to keep him engaged. That wasn’t necessary, though, because he changed the subject first.
“How well do you remember your mother?”
“Better than most kids could. Why?”
“Then you remember how clever she was.”
My mother was a smart woman. Even at five, I knew that. She never let me take the lazy route. Even when I threw myself on the floor in a preschooler’s fit, she’d wait patiently for it to pass and then remind me why it was important to think for myself—I won’t always be here to hand you the answers. Sometimes the answers are hidden right in front of you.”
Constantine was watching me, gauging my face as the memories replayed in my head. “Maeve was a very resourceful witch. She wouldn’t let a small thing like time or death stand in the way of the finish line.” A small lift of his mouth told me he was pleased with what he saw crossing my face. “Perhaps your mother did find a way of telling you the things you need to know. There are many ways to look at something, Alex. Maybe you haven’t been looking the right way.”
I needed to take another look at that letter. I was about to ask him to take me home, when something moved in the other room. The distinct sound of footsteps crossed the floor, and a set of keys landed on a table.
�
�Who is that?”
“Fuck.” Constantine’s head jerked in the direction of the living room. He got up and extended his hand. “We must leave—now.”
“Why?”
“Because the occupants of the apartment just came home.”
TWENTY-SIX
Constantine kept his word. After a brief stop on the Brooklyn Bridge to retrieve my handbag, we were back in Manhattan.
“This is as far as I go.” We were a block away from Greer’s house. “Greer’s wards are rather unpleasant, and I’d prefer not to run up against this particular one.”
“Fine. But I hope you’ll at least wait until I’m inside.”
It was past midnight, and these days even a block in the dark made me uncomfortable. I figured a live scaredy-cat was better than a dead fool.
Constantine straightened his spine and looked down his nose at me. “I’m a gentleman. Do you really think I’d abandon you before you were safely inside?”
“Thank you,” I said before heading down the block. A few yards later I stopped and looked back at him. “If I don’t find the answers I think I’ll find tonight, you can bet your ass I’m coming for you.”
“I look forward to it, Ms. Kelley.”
I got to the top step and suddenly felt very vulnerable. Greer would be waiting behind that door with an arsenal of questions and a punishment far worse than the crime. I took my time sliding the key into the lock, glancing down the block at the faint outline of Constantine still standing in the shadows. Would he come to my rescue if Greer lost it, or was I just a toy? Then I remembered the wards and realized it didn’t matter. Greer could do whatever he wanted to me, and I’d be completely on my own.
The living room light was on when I came through the door, but Greer wasn’t waiting for me to walk through it. Maybe he was in the library, or maybe he wasn’t waiting at all. As I looked in the library and then the kitchen, it appeared the latter was true.
I was grateful for being spared the inquisition, at least until morning, because my limbs felt like cast iron. I dragged myself up the stairs to my room and fumbled around the dark for the light switch. Too exhausted to move another inch, I gave up and dropped down on the bed. After a few minutes, I forced myself to sit up and find the lamp on the nightstand.
When the light came on, the first thing I saw was a pair of black shoes. I dragged my eyes up the gray slacks and past the white shirt, to the face staring back at me from the large cushioned chair in the corner of the room. Greer’s eyes looked tired, but his flat expression gave no clue whether he wanted to kill me or wrap his arms around me. He took a deep breath and pushed the hair out of his face with both hands, and as the silence stretched for miles, the tension in the room grew thick and sliceable.
I couldn’t take it anymore. My mouth opened to end the standoff, but he beat me to it. He got up and walked over to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and meticulously searched through my clothes before pulling out a pair of panties. He opened another drawer and pulled out a plain white T-shirt. For a moment, I wondered if he intended to put them on me himself. My answer came when he walked into the bathroom and placed the clothes on the marble counter.
“Greer, I can explain what happened tonight.”
“You know,” he said as he stared down at the clothes, “I could be grateful that you’re home, in one piece. That’s all that really matters. But what I can’t get past is how easy it is for you to be so selfish.”
My mouth dropped. Selfish. I was kidnapped.
Greer’s head snapped up, looking at me like I’d just announced that I had two weeks to live.
My eyes focused on the floor. Why did I feel like it was all a lie? It wasn’t. Constantine had taken me to Paris against my will. Right, so I did enjoy parts of it, but that didn’t change the facts or make me a liar.
I looked back up and saw Greer heading straight for me. Before I could react, my right knee slipped between his legs as he leaned into the mattress and wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. I couldn’t think about what was happening or try to stop him before he kissed me. At first, his lips barely brushed against mine, hesitating as if he wanted me fully aroused before he continued. I was, and only when my breath betrayed the thousand shivers running along my spine, did he seal his lips over mine and move with such tenderness that I ached. His tongue slipped into my mouth when my lips parted, and my thighs widened as he pressed deeper into me.
Look at me.
My eyes opened, and I was shocked by the intense beauty and power of the blue irises staring back. It was another one of those warnings. Greer would accept no less than complete surrender if we walked down this path—no games, no halfway, no turning back. That invisible fence I was teetering on had to go. I had to pick a side and jump.
My eyes followed his as he straightened back up and ran his hand along the edge of my jaw. “No fight tonight?” he asked. Disappointment clouded his eyes as his hand slipped from my face. “I’m glad you’re home.”
A knot rolled through my heart. “I can explain if you’ll just listen to me, Greer.”
He placed a soft kiss on my eyelid. “Take a shower. I can smell him on you.”
When I came out of the shower, Greer was gone. I stuck my head into the hall, but the house was dead quiet except for the occasional sound of cubes dropping from the icemaker.
Constantine hadn’t fed me, and I was feeling nauseous from lack of food. I went down to the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator, hoping for lasagna leftovers from the night before. Five minutes later I was stuffing pasta and cheese in my mouth, thinking about everything that happened that evening.
The letter was my top priority, but every time I thought about what I needed to do, my heart rate accelerated to the point of panic. What were the odds of examining the letter for the hundredth time and still finding nothing?
I ate way beyond the point of satisfaction to avoid the real reason for not facing the letter. What if I found things I didn’t want to know? What if Greer wasn’t who I thought he was? Was it possible we were on opposite teams? I couldn’t live with that.
By the time I ate and cleaned the kitchen—nothing good would come from leaving a mess for Sophia—it was two a.m. My eyes stung from exhaustion, while my head pounded from the aftereffects of too much wine. I dragged myself back up to my room, brushed my teeth, and then climbed into bed for another round of hide and seek with the words of my mother.
The pots and pans clanking in the kitchen was the first sign that I’d failed again at deciphering my mother’s letter. My eyes shot open. I’d fallen asleep without even looking at it.
“Idiot,” I said, chastising myself for trying to read with my head on the pillow instead of sitting at the desk.
The smell of pancakes and coffee hit my nose before I made it to the bottom of the stairs.
“Good morning, Sophia.”
“You look bad,” she said as she gave me the once-over. “Mr. Sinclair is not happy with you.”
I know.
“Really, what makes you think that?” I asked as I grabbed some fruit from the counter.
“He says he’s going to lock you in the wine cellar.”
“Let him try,” I muttered around a mouthful of banana.
“That’s what I say to him,” she muttered back.
“So where is Mr. Sinclair?” I wanted to get the unpleasantries out of the way before sequestering myself in my room. It was my day off, so I just had to get past Greer.
Her shoulders shrugged.
Greer disappeared after he left my room the night before. Maybe he slept at the club, or maybe he kept a woman in an apartment somewhere. He didn’t sleep here, because the whole house would have known it by now.
Sophia’s pancakes were almost as good as her French toast, but as I ate my fourth one, I realized I was doing so to avoid going back up to my room for another round of disappointment. I knew what I had to do. Procrastination would just delay the inevitable and compound Greer’s an
ger when I finally confessed.
Suddenly the food in my mouth didn’t taste so good. My hand fell to the table as I swallowed my last bite. The decision was made. At dinner that evening, I’d tell Greer about the letter. What choice did I have? I could hunt down Constantine and shove it under his egotistical nose, demanding that he tell me what it meant. Maybe he would, or maybe I’d find out what a bad choice that was because he’d been playing me all along. If I had to choose between them, I’d choose the one who’d kept me alive and already owned a small piece of me.
Greer’s disappearing acts were becoming more frequent, but I could usually count on him to show up for dinner. Maybe it was out of respect for Sophia since she cooked a fine meal every night.
We’d gotten into the bad habit of consuming our food in silence, with Greer’s nose buried in work documents or the paper he’d forgotten to read at breakfast. I wondered if tonight would be the same, or if we’d finally get around to the monster in the corner and have a conversation about that kiss. Unfortunately, the slightest hint of intimacy between us usually resulted in him disappearing for days. Intimacy is overhead, and I suspected a kiss was nothing more than a handshake to a man like Greer. I, on the other hand, was of the thought that anytime a man’s tongue made it into my mouth, it deserved at least an acknowledgment.
Tonight would be a really bad night for predictability. I considered what needed to be done to change the course of the evening and kicked off the plan.
“What’s for dinner tonight, Sophia?” It was an ordinary question asked by millions of people every day, but Sophia had an unnatural ability to smell bullshit.
She stopped wiping the counter and lifted her head slightly. Her wheels were turning, and the raised octave in my voice wasn’t helping. Her eyes shifted sideways at me. “Something special you have a taste for tonight, Miss Alex?”
“Does Mr. Sinclair have a favorite?” My acting got worse.
“Ah…I see.” A grin spread across her face as she went back to cleaning the spotless counter.
The Amulet Thief (The Fitheach Trilogy Book 1) Page 23