“I’m not afraid.”
Luca looks at me again and I don’t see one ounce of the vulnerability that I have seen there before. Instead, he is expressionless once more and darkly handsome.
“Well, that’s the rub,” he answers. “You should be.”
Chapter Nine
Luca
I watch her absorb my words, drawing them into her body as she thinks about them. Her face, for once, is impassive. Evangeline isn’t showing her hand.
“Why should I fear you?” she finally asks. She is trying to act unruffled. But I can see that she is nervous. Her slender hands fidget in her lap as she tries to sit still.
“Oh, we don’t really have the time to get into that this evening,” I tell her. “There will be other nights, I’m sure. I don’t want to scare you away so soon, Dr. Talbot.”
“I’ve told you,” she says. “Call me Eva.”
I look at her long and hard and she fidgets under my gaze. On some base level, I find satisfaction in that. She is very unflappable. The fact that I have gotten beneath her skin says something.
“Ah, we’ve already gone over that, haven’t we?” I ask. “We aren’t yet friends.”
She lifts her chin and I can see her cheeks are flushed. Have I offended her or is it the effects of the Scotch? She downed hers like a sailor, something that I wasn’t expecting. I could tell she didn’t like it. Women usually don’t, but she certainly hid it well.
“As you like,” she answers. I almost smile, but don’t. I offended her. The capable, no-nonsense Dr. Talbot might be more sensitive than she seems.
“Why does Adrian call you Eve?” I ask. The question is out before I think about it. I hadn’t meant to ask, but ever since I heard him do it, I’ve wanted to know.
Her eyes meet mine quickly. She is surprised. And flustered. She shakes her head.
“It’s silly. It’s a private joke, I guess.”
“Why is it private?” I ask. “You just met him this morning. How private can it be?”
The idea that Adrian would share anything private with her is instantly annoying.
She shakes her head again. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel like explaining it. It sounds silly out loud.”
“You’re embarrassed?” And now I’m the one who is surprised. “I wouldn’t have thought that you embarrass easily, Dr. Talbot.”
“I don’t.”
But that’s a lie. I can tell by the flush lining her graceful cheekbones. I resist the urge to run my thumbs over the color, to trace the way the delicate color curls over her cheeks and illuminates her face. It’s becoming on her. So, I tell her that. She flushes even deeper and I have to smile.
“Or maybe you just embarrass easily with me,” I muse, watching her lips press together until they turn white at the corners.
“You don’t like me much, do you?” I ask her. She’s once again the one who is surprised as she turns her face toward mine.
“Why ever would you think that?” she asks.
“It’s just an observation,” I answer. “You seem on edge around me.”
“That might be because you told me that I’m not safe around you,” she replies, her chin lifted in the air. I smile wider and she sucks in a breath. I do affect her. And I like that. It only seems fair since she affects me in a very similar way. The fact that the crotch of my pants shrinks two sizes whenever she is near is evidence of that.
“Valid point,” I concede. “But you haven’t asked why.”
She shrugs, her shoulders thin and elegant. “Does it matter? Unsafe is unsafe whatever the reason.”
I nod. “Very true. You’re very astute.”
She nods too, cool now. “Yes, I am. Now, what were you wanting to discuss about your mother?”
“To the point. I like that,” I tell her. I pour another scotch and hand it to her, taking one for myself. She doesn’t refuse it. I’m impressed once again.
I sit down in the chair facing her.
“I would like to hire you,” I say simply. She is impassive as she stares at me, the scotch glass in her lap.
“I’m not licensed to practice medicine here,” she answers calmly. Her eyes, such a unique color, are glued to mine. Her stare is unwavering and once again, I am impressed with her. She has such poise. I briefly wonder if it is a result of her training.
“That is no matter,” I answer. “My mother can continue to have her medications prescribed by her current physician. You can work hand in hand with him. But she reacts differently with you, far better than she reacts with him. She was calmer in a matter of minutes with you than I have seen her in months. If you had that effect on her every day, it would make my life much, much easier. Even though my mother and I have a…tenuous relationship, I want her to be comfortable. I will pay you handsomely, Dr. Talbot.”
She is quiet for a moment as she looks down at her hands, at the scotch glass, then back up to me.
“I’m here to finish my dissertation, Luca. I don’t have the time to be a round-the-clock attendant. I don’t wish to sound rude, but I am here in Malta for a reason and I only have the summer to complete it.”
“Fair enough,” I tell her. “But I don’t want you to be a round-the-clock attendant. You’re a doctor, not a nurse aide. I would simply like to pay you to visit with her once a day or so. And if she has episodes like she had today, then I could call you and you could come and talk her down like you did this evening. It shouldn’t be too taxing for you and I would compensate you very well for your time. Surely you would like to pay your student loans off early.”
She stares at me, once again impassive, although I had expected her to be surprised or impressed by the implication that I would pay her quite so well.
“Perhaps. I’ll consider it. But first, I need for you to tell me why Mrs. Minaldi feels that Chessarae is dangerous. Why does she think that you are evil?”
I take a moment, studying Evangeline’s face as she waits for my answer. She’s calm, cool and very collected. She doesn’t seem to believe my mother’s words. If she did, she wouldn’t be here right now. Instead, she is waiting for me to refute them.
I don’t.
I say, “My mother is suffering from dementia, Dr. Talbot. It is hard to imagine why she says the things that she does.”
“Yes,” Evangeline answers slowly. “About that. Your mother’s presence of mind is not as altered as I would have thought. She knows her name and her age. Her pulse is slow and steady. I don’t believe her psychosis is as advanced as she would have you think. It is there, to be sure. She does believe that your father is still alive. However, I have seen cases like this before. A person’s grief is so overwhelming that in order to protect themselves, they concoct a new world, one in which their loved one still remains. That could be why your mother is so focused on you. Perhaps she is making you a villain in order to somehow shield herself from some internal guilt, rather than taking it onto herself.”
I am impressed that she gathered all of this from ten minutes with my mother. So I tell her that. I don’t hand out compliments easily, although there is no way she could know that.
She smiles. “It’s what I do, Luca. I think your mother has the presence of mind to manipulate you. She’s faking psychotic episodes in order to control you.”
I stare at her. “You gathered this from one meeting?”
Evangeline nods, confident in her assessment. “My thesis project revolves around studying the personality traits of a person based on the initial meeting. It’s a skill I’ve gotten quite good at. Why would you mother want to manipulate you?”
I shrug and take another drink. “I have no idea.”
Evangeline stares at me. “You’re lying.”
“Does it matter?” I meet her gaze and she is trying to figure me out, to take me apart mentally, thought by thought. I almost laugh. That will never happen. No one on the planet will be able to figure me out. It’s a feat that I haven’t accomplished myself.
“It matters,
” she answers. “If you want me to help your mother, you have to help me. You can’t lie to me. That would just hinder the process.”
“So I’m a process now?”
I set my glass down purposefully on the table, then lean toward her. The space between us is narrowing by the moment, charged with the energy that we create. I rest my hand on her slender knee, very lightly, as if to emphasize my point. She sucks in her breath.
“I’m many things, Evangeline. But a process isn’t one of them.”
She shakes her head, flustered, ignoring the fact that I am touching her.
“You’re not a process,” she answers. “You’re a mystery, an enigma. And if I could figure you out, I’m sure I could help your mother.”
“I think you’ve got that backward,” I tell her bluntly, removing my hand and easing back in my seat, breaking the spell. And then I wish I hadn’t said a thing because her eyes light up and widen with a revelation.
“You think I could help you if I figure out your mother? Do you need help, Luca?”
I smile at her question and I can feel the taste of grim reality on my lips.
“Evangeline, I need more help than you will ever know. But I’m a lost cause.”
“I don’t believe in lost causes, Luca.” Her words are soft, her tone even softer. She reaches over and puts her hand over mine and hers is pale against my darker skin. It is slender and small, and although something urges me to grasp it with my own, I remain motionless. It is one thing to touch her when I am in control, but it is quite another when she is trying to comfort me. I can hardly trust myself to remain aloof.
“There’s a first time for everything,” I answer. She starts to say something, but I interrupt her. “But let’s focus on my mother for the time being. Will you help her?”
Evangeline is silent as she considers it, but it only takes her a moment before she nods.
“All right. I’ll do what I can.”
Her voice is whisper soft in the silence of my study.
“When can you start?”
“Immediately.”
It’s the right answer.
Chapter Ten
Eva
I can’t figure Luca out.
One moment he seems vulnerable and the very next, he is once again the powerful Luca Minaldi that the rest of the world sees. It is frustrating and I feel as though I need to take my internal list of his character traits and tear it into pieces. I’m never going to get it right.
“I can’t figure you out,” I tell him. “I don’t know what to make of you.”
He is standing at the windows of his study, looking out over the property. In the light of the moon, he is slender and masculine, a striking figure against the window panes. He turns and I swear that my heart begins to race. He has a profound and unexplainable effect on me.
“I don’t know that you are supposed to,” he replies. His voice is husky and deep. “My family is complex, Evangeline. Am I correct to assume that everything that you learn here is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality?”
I nod, not gracing that with an answer. A small smile tugs at the corners of Luca’s lips.
“Good. I should also mention that I prefer that my employees don’t involve themselves with each other romantically. Will that be a problem?”
He’s staring at me again with those inky eyes and I know he’s talking about Adrian. And I should be furious that he would try to control me in such a way, because I know that’s exactly what he’s doing. He knows that Adrian and I had dinner, he watched us return to my house.
And I am annoyed. But more than that, I am fascinated. He’s intrigued enough with me to want to interfere? My heart races once more. I know it shouldn’t. I know I should be overwhelmingly offended at this maneuver. But on the same token, I’m a strong enough woman that I can handle him. I can handle anything.
“I seldom date at all, Luca. So while generally I would tell you that you don’t have the right to tell me who I can or cannot see romantically, it probably won’t be an issue. If it does become one, I’ll let you know.” I keep my voice cool.
Luca looks surprised and satisfied at once, but he doesn’t comment. He simply nods.
“My mother seems to be at her worst in the evening hours. If you could schedule your daily visit with her during that time, I would sincerely appreciate it,” he tells me.
I nod. “Fine. I’ll begin tomorrow after dinner.”
“Perfect.” Luca is curt now as he adjusts one of his cufflinks. “I’ll be happy to drive you home. I’m sure you are tired. I do thank you for coming out here so late.”
“You’re quite welcome.” I raise an eyebrow. “You’re going to drive me yourself? Don’t you have staff for that?”
The corner of his mouth twitches again.
“Yes. But Adrian is finished with his duties for the night. I’m not a slave-driver. My staff members receive time off. I’ll take you myself.”
“Thank you,” I answer simply. He gestures toward the door and I walk ahead of him. I pause at the door and he opens it, then leads the way through the rest of the house. The house is quiet and darkened and I don’t see any signs of other staff members. However, I decide that it isn’t that odd. It is late, after all. They have probably turned in for the night.
We step into the fragrant Maltese night and Luca opens the car door. I slide inside, enveloped by the luxurious leather seat. The engine roars to life and we are once more on the road.
“Are you enjoying Malta so far?” Luca asks politely, making small talk after a few minutes of silence.
“So far,” I answer. “I haven’t been here long, but it is truly a beautiful place.”
“That it is,” he agrees. “But like anywhere, it has its downfalls.”
“Such as?” I ask doubtfully. “I find it difficult to believe that Malta has any. It is so lovely.”
Luca steers the car fluidly around a sharp curve. “Well, Dr. Talbot, as I’m sure you are aware, beauty can often be deceiving.”
I stare at him. “Are you saying that Malta is deceiving?”
He glances at me.
“No. I’m saying that like anywhere else, Malta isn’t perfect. It has secrets and issues of its own.”
“Issues of its own,” I repeat. “Just like anyone. Even you, Mr. Minaldi.”
He smiles now, his teeth white in the night. I am struck once again by his masculine beauty. I decide that his car suits him. He is like a jaguar himself. Lean, sleek and muscular.
“So I’m Mr. Minaldi now?”
I nod.
“Until we’re friends.”
He smiles again and I smile back. I can’t help it.
Unlocking Luca’s personality will be a challenge, but it will be an enjoyable one. And I suddenly realize that I like making him smile. It’s like the clouds suddenly lift from his face and the sun shines once again. It is a silly thought, but it is the most fitting I can think of. Luca is such a commanding presence that his mood has a tangible and noticeable effect on the atmosphere around us. It is like nothing I’ve ever seen.
He pulls into my driveway and I find that I wish the drive had been longer.
“Here you are, Dr. Talbot,” he tells me. He opens his door, walks around the car and then opens mine. “Thank you again for coming this evening.”
“You’re welcome,” I tell him. “I am glad I could help.”
He starts to get into his car, then stops.
“Dr. Talbot.”
I look back over my shoulder at him. He is staring at me with a strange light in his eyes, something I haven’t yet seen in him.
“Yes?”
“Make sure you lock your doors. There are a few less than beautiful things in Malta.”
He ducks into his car and is gone. His dark car slides past me back out into the road and I am alone in the night. I walk inside and click the door closed, locking it behind me.
When I wake the next morning, I find that another girl is missing from Valetta.<
br />
Chapter Eleven
The Beast
The darkness caves in around me and there is a loud roar in my ears. I try to fight it, to shake it off, at least until I return home. Even as I do, I know that I will fail. I resist it for as long as I can but I cannot make it home. It is of no use and before I know it, my vision blurs and I have no control.
I am not myself.
I scan the horizon, searching for a light, searching for signs of life.
I search until I find it.
And then I do.
I move forward, light on my feet. I am quiet and stealthy and I am only thinking of one thing.
One thing.
She is walking along the road in the dark, her white shorts far too short. Her tanned legs are long, her blonde hair is short. She has a butterfly tattoo on her shoulder.
None of those things matter.
It wouldn’t matter at all if they were different than they are.
I am not myself.
She hears me and turns. At first she isn’t afraid, but then she recognizes me for what I am. She can see it on my face and then I see terror on hers.
She screams, but there is no one to hear.
She tries to run, but I am faster.
She tries to fight, but I am stronger.
Her hands are like a child’s as they beat against me, but it is of no matter. It is as though she is not fighting at all.
I bend my head and her blood runs down my chin, into my neck and onto shirt.
It doesn’t matter.
Nothing matters.
Fiercely fragile, her heart is beating wildly against mine.
And then it isn’t.
Chapter Twelve
Eva
Sunlight shines into the windows of my cottage as I eat a cup of yogurt, granola and Maltese honey.
I have the television turned on for the first time since I have been here and I am glued to the local news as I sit curled up in a living room chair.
Of Blood and Bone (The Minaldi Legacy) Page 7
