by I. T. Lucas
Casting a quick glance in the guy’s direction, Ella wondered if she was experiencing a Groundhog Day phenomenon and reliving that pivotal day.
Except, in the movie, it had happened right away and not a month later. Which meant that she was probably dreaming.
Since the guy’s face and most of his body were hidden behind the diner’s tall menu, all she could see were his hands holding it up. They were long-fingered and olive-toned.
If that was Romeo, and it most likely was him, she was going to empty the carafe of hot coffee on his head. After all, this was a dream, so she wouldn’t get fired for it, or arrested for assaulting a customer.
It would be so satisfying.
She wondered what had happened to him and Stefano in real life. But to find that out, she would have to ask questions and bring up things she preferred to forget. Thankfully, no one had volunteered any information, and other than her mother, no one had tried to coax it out of her either.
Not yet, anyway.
The full coffee carafe heavy in her hand and an evil smirk on her lips, Ella strode toward booth four and its olive-skinned occupant.
He sensed her approach and lowered the menu. “Hello, Ella.”
“Logan.” The smirk dissipated and was replaced by a frown. “What are you doing in my dream again?”
He looked around as if surprised. “This is a dream? It feels so real.” He smiled up at her. “You have a very vivid imagination.”
“Not really.” Ella sat down across from him. “I used to work in this diner, and I remember every little detail about it. The only thing different is you. What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “How should I know? I’m a figment of your imagination. You brought me here.”
Yeah, she probably did. But why?
Was it a warning that Logan wasn’t who he seemed to be, the same as Romeo? Was that why she was replaying the scene, just with a different actor?
But then Ella had no illusions as to who and what Logan was. The guy bought weapons from Gorchenco, so he was probably some sort of a mercenary or a warlord. He was dangerous and reeked of evil. Well, not literally, but figuratively.
“I don’t know why I would do that. But since you are created by my subconscious, you must have an idea why we are meeting here of all places. It’s not like I miss this diner.”
He looked around. “Yeah, I see what you mean. It’s quite drab. Where would you like to go? Is there a place you miss?”
“The beach.”
Pushing up to his feet, Logan offered her a hand up. “Then let’s go.”
Even though she didn’t like the real Logan and feared him, she took it. The moment his hand closed around hers, they were both transported to the boardwalk.
Dreams were fun that way.
“That’s so cool.” She pulled her hand out of his clasp. “One moment we were at the diner, and the next we are on the beach.”
He smirked. “That’s one of the many reasons I love dreaming. Unfortunately, I can’t spend all my days sleeping.”
“Yeah. You are too busy buying weapons from the Russian mafia. What do you do with them?”
“I supply my army. Technology keeps improving, and if we want to stay on top of things, we need the latest weapons.”
She arched a brow. “You have an army? Are you a mercenary?”
“Not the way I see it. It depends on how you define a mercenary.”
Ella thought it was self-explanatory. Mercenaries were soldiers for hire. They fought for whomever paid them.
“What’s your definition?”
“A mercenary fights for money. But although I do that too, it’s only to finance my people’s cause. Fighters for a cause are either rebels, defenders, or conquerors. Not mercenaries.”
“Which one are you? Rebel, defender, or conqueror?”
“Conqueror, of course.”
Rolling her eyes, she waved a hand. “Why am I not surprised? And who or what do you intend to conquer?”
“The world.”
“Naturally.” She shook her head.
In books and movies, all evil masterminds wanted to rule the world. No wonder her imagination came up with that answer.
He smiled, looking actually friendly and not terrifying. “What about you? Is there anything you want to conquer?”
“My fears, mainly. And my disgust with myself.”
The second part of her answer surprised her. She hadn’t felt disgusted with herself when awake, not consciously anyway.
Logan seemed surprised too. “Why would you feel like that?”
“I should’ve resisted the Russian. I should have been braver and at least put up a fight, but I was too scared, too weak.”
“To resist him would have been stupid, and you’re too smart for that. You did precisely what you needed to do to survive and to eventually escape.” Logan stopped walking and turned to her. “The truth is that you impress the hell out of me. Gorchenco is a smart and cautious guy, and yet you managed to fool him, lulling him into a false sense of security. Quite an achievement for an eighteen-year-old girl from the suburbs.”
Well, that made her feel a little better. “Thank you. I thought so too, logically.” She put a hand over her heart. “But in here, I feel icky, and nothing I do makes it better.”
He tilted his head. “And what is it that you do? You’ve just gotten free this morning, and you expect to feel better right away?”
“Yeah, you’re right. I need to give it time. It’s just that I’m afraid the taint is going to stay.”
Reaching for her cheek, he cupped it gently and smiled down at her. “Sweet, innocent Ella. There is nothing more boring than squeaky clean. The taint you’re imagining makes you stronger and more interesting. It also makes you less fearful, not more. Once you’ve experienced the dark side and dealt with it, you know that you can survive it.”
“Spoken like a real Sith Lord.” Ella laughed and then continued in a deepened voice. “Welcome to the dark side, my young apprentice.”
7
Julian
It was a quiet morning in the clinic, and Julian had nothing to do. In moments like this, he found it difficult to resist his obsession. Not that he’d put much effort into it.
His addiction was harmless.
Pulling out his phone, he gazed at his screensaver.
How ironic was it that he was seeing as much of Ella now as he had prior to her rescue ten days ago? Which amounted to staring at her picture longingly and trying to convince himself that all she needed was time.
Like a lovesick human teenager, he’d altered his evening running route so he could pass by her house and get a glimpse of her through the windows before the nighttime shutters came down. He’d managed to steal a few, which had only made his torment worse.
It seemed that Ella never left the house.
In case he was mistaken, Julian had asked Magnus, who’d confirmed that she was spending her days in her room, reading, or surfing the net, or just vegging in front of the television.
Had she given up on life?
Not that ten days was a long time, not even by human standards, but Julian had hoped for some interaction with Ella.
Nothing major, just a hello-how-are-you sort of thing. Heck, he would’ve been happy to watch her from afar.
But knowing she was so near and yet unapproachable was pure torture.
The pitying glances he was getting from everyone didn’t help make him feel any better.
His life officially sucked.
Except, feeling sorry for himself because of such minor things made him feel even worse. Ella had been to hell and back, and here he was, acting as if it was all about him.
Instead of moping around, he should get busy and actually do something, like sinking his teeth into the halfway house project.
With Merlin taking over the clinic, Julian had been relegated to the role of an intern, and the truth was that even with the miscellaneous tasks Merlin was assigning to him, he didn
’t have much to do.
It was ten o'clock on Monday morning, and other than rearranging the medicine cabinet and checking expiration dates, Julian hadn’t done one useful thing.
Staring at Ella’s picture didn’t count.
“Do you need me for anything today?” he asked Merlin.
As he waved Julian away, the guy didn’t even lift his head from whatever he was reading. “You can take the rest of the day off. Tomorrow too. I’ll have a load of things for you to do Wednesday, so don’t make plans for that day.”
Julian arched a brow. “Are we brewing potions again?”
On more than one occasion, he’d had the passing thought that Merlin might be nuts, believing that he was indeed a wizard who could wield magic.
Or the guy could be a genius who was really creating new natural remedies.
Merlin was trying to come up with natural ways to enhance immortals’ fertility, males and females alike, but to Julian, it seemed like the guy was delving in witchcraft. Especially since he was poring over a bunch of archaic pseudo-medical books that he’d brought with him from Scotland and then brewing stinky potions from Gertrude’s herbs.
He’d overheard Merlin and the nurse having long-winded discussions about the different plants she was growing in her garden and their medicinal use.
It was possible that Gertrude was just as crazy as Merlin, but if she was as sane as she appeared and was supplying ingredients for Merlin’s creations, then maybe the two were onto something.
“No potions, my dear boy. I’m compiling a list of research papers that I want you to read and summarize for me. If we tackle them together, we can cover twice as much material in the same time.”
“No problem. I’m all yours on Wednesday.”
As he left the clinic, Julian headed to his mother’s office.
Her door was open, and he walked right in. “Do you have a moment?”
She put her tablet down and smiled at him. “For you, always. What’s on your mind?”
A lot, but he wasn’t going to bother his mother with his unrequited love.
“I want to talk to you about the halfway house project. I would like to get it going.”
She sighed. “I gave Turner’s mandatory volunteering idea a lot of thought, and I believe that it’s not the right approach. It will create resentment toward the entire project. With the right presentation, I’m sure I can get people to volunteer their time without conditioning their share in the clan profits on it.”
“You won’t get many.”
Smirking, she crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s what Kian said about bringing back the retired Guardians. I think I’ve proved that my methods work.”
“They worked once. It doesn’t mean they would work again. You’ve played your ace. Every clan member has seen your presentation. What else can you show them?”
Leaning forward, Bridget smiled. “I can show them progress. I can prepare one hell of a presentation showing them success stories, and then tell them how many more of those we could be having with their help.”
That was good. His mother was a natural at manipulating people’s emotions and getting them to do what she wanted.
“You missed your calling, Mom. You should’ve gone into politics or fundraising.”
“Nah, I just know our people and what works on them.”
He nodded. “Assuming that you’re right and that you can rope them into volunteering, we still need an actual house.”
Uncrossing her arms, she put her hands on the table. “That’s Kian’s department. You should talk to him.”
“I’ll do it right now.” He got up.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Pausing in front of Kian’s door, Julian took a deep breath before knocking and braced for a refusal.
“Come in.” The boss sounded impatient.
“Do you have a moment?”
“No. But take a seat anyway. What can I help you with?”
“Did Turner talk to you about the halfway house?”
“He did.” Kian put down his pen and leaned back in his chair. “Right now we don’t have the funds to purchase a property. I’ve recently made several investments in new promising startups, which I believe will begin bringing in nice profits in a year or two. But at the moment we are at the red line. I’m not willing to dip below it.”
“What about Ella’s ring? Turner said that it could finance several projects.”
Kian nodded. “But he hasn’t sold it yet, and I’m not sure when he’ll find a buyer. So, until that happens, you’ll need to find some other solution.”
Julian arched a brow. “Me?”
“Yes, you. It seems to me that you’re passionate about this project. Make it your baby. I certainly don’t have the time for it, and neither does Bridget.”
Taken aback, Julian swallowed. He was a doctor, not a businessman. What did he know about raising money and purchasing properties?
“I’m not sure I’m qualified.”
“You’re a smart man. You’ll figure it out.” Kian picked his pen up, indicating that Julian’s time was up.
“Thank you for the vote of confidence. I’ll see what I can do.”
Lifting his head, Kian cast him an amused glance. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”
I’m not sure at all.
Maybe Turner could be of help. The guy’s mental gears worked at triple the average speed, if not more.
Outside of Kian’s office, Julian leaned against the wall and pulled out his phone. He shot Turner a quick text. Any idea when the ring will be sold? We need that halfway house and Kian wants me to come up with the financing.
He didn’t have to wait long for the response.
Kian is overthinking this. All you need is a down payment on a property. The rest can be financed. I can provide the down payment from my personal funds, and once the ring is sold, the clan can pay me back and pay off the mortgage.
Julian read the text twice. Could it be as simple as that?
He fired off another text. How come Kian didn’t think of that?
Habit. He’s not accustomed to the use of financing for purchasing clan properties.
That still left the remodeling and furnishing and other necessities, but that wasn’t where the big money went.
Pocketing his phone, Julian smiled. This was doable. But first, he needed to find a suitable property. How did one go about that?
Kian should know. With the number of properties he was purchasing, he must have people who found them for him. Turning on his heel, Julian headed back to the boss’s office.
8
Ella
There were several advantages to having a private bathroom, Ella thought as she submerged herself in the tub’s warm water. Aside from the obvious one of not having to share it with Parker so she could soak for as long as she wished, it was also a good place to hide from her well-meaning family and their expectant looks.
“Would you like to join me at the café?” Her mother.
“I can take you to the gym and show you around.” Magnus.
“Do you want to take Scarlet for a walk?” Parker.
“Would you like to go to a cooking class with me?” Her mother.
And other variations on the same theme of trying to get her out of the house, or at least to interact more with her family.
With a sigh, Ella scooped two handfuls of frothy bubbles and combined them into a small mountain over her chest. Another scoop went on top, looking like a castle on top of a cliff.
If she were a princess, and her home were a castle, she wouldn’t need the wicked witch to lock her up in the tower. She would choose to live there and allow no visitors. Sitting on the windowsill, she would gaze at her people living their lives down below. And when she got bored with that, she could read a book and live between its pages.
“Ella!” Parker knocked on the door.
Annoying kid.
Apparently, having his own
bathroom didn’t mean he was going to stop bothering her during her relaxing soak. “What do you want?”
“Do you know where the pain meds that Dr. Bridget left for me are?”
Ella pushed up to a sitting position, her mountain together with the castle on top sliding down into the water. “I put them on top of the fridge. Why? Are your fangs finally coming out?”
“I think so. I have the worst toothache ever.”
Poor kid.
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I can get the meds myself.”
“I know you can.” In the month she’d been gone, her little brother must’ve grown an inch. “I just want to take a look at your gums.” She got out of the tub and grabbed a towel.
‘I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Take two pills,” she called after him before heading into her closet.
Bridget had warned them that once the fangs started coming out, the pain was going to be intense.
She’d also confirmed that Ella wasn’t pregnant.
It had been such a huge relief to know that for sure. Now she could really forget about the Russian. Except, it was easier said than done. Every time someone mentioned his name, bile rose in Ella’s throat.
Which was a weird reaction.
Was she suffering from a post-traumatic stress disorder?
While it had been happening, she’d dealt with it and hadn’t thought it was horrible, so why such a strong reaction now when it was over?
Normally, Ella would’ve talked about whatever bothered her with her mom, but Vivian was already worried sick about her and didn’t need more fuel thrown on top of that.
Logan would have been a better choice as someone to figure things out with. Somehow, he’d managed to lift her spirits when no one else could, maybe because he’d said that she had impressed the hell out of him.
He didn’t think of her as a victim.
Logan thought of her as a fighter, a survivor, and that gave her strength, while pity made her weak.
But Logan wasn’t real, and she was basically talking to herself.