by Vivien Dean
The reminder of one of her less-than-shining moments was a bucket of cold water on Maddy’s mood. Her face closed, eyes blazing, and she curled into a ball as far away from him as possible. “Asshole,” she muttered.
He deliberately shifted to stare out the window at the passing scenery. If he couldn’t see her, he couldn’t be tempted. By the time his resolve weakened and he turned to apologize, her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and rhythmic. Maddy had finally fallen asleep.
Chapter Four
Her earlobes were vibrating.
As Maddy battled between dreams and waking, the first thing she became aware of was how the pounding in her head cascaded into her ears, setting them into motion. At least, that was what it felt like. It could have been thousands of tiny ants using her lobes as a trampoline too.
Another veil of sleep lifted. A matching set of pulsations joined those behind her eyes, beating on them from the inside out, a tom-tom in the orchestra of her hangover. Because that was the only excuse that covered all her symptoms. Maddy wasn’t so far gone she didn’t remember what it felt like to drink too much.
She tried to swallow and immediately regretted it. Somewhere, she had lost the lining of her throat and been left with this sandpaper chute, leading down into the tumult that was her stomach. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and she could’ve sworn that it moved in slow motion, too thick for her to control, too dry to do any good. Whoever created shooters needed to be flayed and then castrated. This was torture beyond anything any reasonable human being could endure.
As her eyelids fluttered open, the memories of the previous evening came flooding back. Getting caught in the rain. Arguing about the painting. The weirdness of finding herself at the nightclub. There had been a brief moment when she’d first woken up where she’d wondered if the whole thing had been a dream, but there was no way she could feel this awful without it being real.
Then the events at the Rising Sun reared their ugly heads. And the events afterward.
Oh my God, I threw myself at Cash.
She had certainly not planned it. All she’d wanted was to get through the night as quickly as possible, and the alcohol had definitely helped with that goal. She wasn’t blind, though. She’d seen how Cash had been watching her at the bar, staring at her every time she went out for a dance. He had his own personal thundercloud hanging over his head that only grew bigger every time she let some guy grab her ass. After a while, it had turned into a game, just as their arguing at the museum often did. How far could she push him before he’d crack? She had pronounced herself the winner when he was the one to demand they leave first.
It was after he pulled her off the stool at the bar that she’d noticed just how much better Cash looked in his tux than any of the other men in the room, so when he wanted to dance, there was no way Maddy could say no. The feel of his muscled chest pressed against her had been even more intoxicating than the shots, driving her body to respond, in spite of her better intentions.
Her actions in the car were inevitable then, she told herself.
At least he’d put a stop to her pass by bringing up the debacle of last year’s Christmas party. She needed the reminder of what a jerk he could be. The last thing Maddy wanted was for Cash to think she might be attracted to him.
Even if some of that attraction still lingered.
She must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing she knew, a warm hand was shaking her shoulder, spraying tiny droplets of water across her cheek.
“Lying about all day in bed is only good if you’ve got company,” she heard Cash say.
His voice was alarmingly near, and the heat of his breath tickled down her neck. The sudden rush of that same breath in her ear while they’d been dancing the night before made Maddy choke, and she pulled the blanket up over her head in order to block it all out.
“Go away,” she said, her voice muffled.
For a moment, she thought he had actually listened to her for a change. Then the comforter was ripped from her grasp, exposing her to the cooler outside air and forcing her to look up at Cash.
“Hibernating isn’t going to make the hangover go away.” He dropped the blanket to the floor out of her reach. “Get up and get moving. You’ll feel better once you do.”
Maddy scowled. “I’m not hung-over. I’m tired. There’s a difference.”
After a brief flicker over his form, she kept her eyes glued to his face. His still-damp hair revealed his recent exodus from the shower, as did the sight of his bare muscled chest. At least he was wearing pants—not that she’d checked that out when she’d seen him half-naked in front of her.
Her lie not only didn’t fly, it also crashed and burned into a smoldering heap between them. Cash just shrugged and shook his head. “Suit yourself.” He grabbed a shirt from the back of a nearby chair and headed for the door. “I just thought you might want to get out of that dress, considering what you did in it last night.”
Maddy bolted from the bed, the red velvet only slightly hindering her movement, and whirled around, looking down at herself from every possible angle. “What? What did I do?” She couldn’t remember getting sick, but considering how much she drank and how bad her stomach felt, she knew the possibility was more than real.
Cash’s laughter filled the room. “Nothing.” Maddy froze and glared at where he grinned at her from the doorway. “But that little twirly thing was hysterical. Do it again.”
“Fine,” she spat. “You win. I’m up.”
“And you feel better, right?”
Maddy pursed her lips together. Actually, she felt like she was going to topple over, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of gloating even more about her hangover. Instead, she lifted her chin and surveyed her surroundings for the first time since waking.
The massive bed must have been custom made, while delicate shades of lilac and cream accented the antique furniture scattered around the perimeter. One entire wall was given over to an array of windows, but the curtains were drawn, obscuring whatever view of the city Maddy might have had.
“Where exactly is this?” she asked.
“Considering I told the driver last night to take us home, I’m guessing…our place.” His eyes narrowed as he waited for her reaction, but if he expected her to get upset about it, he was going to be disappointed. Maddy remembered all too well what Mr. Lombardi had said about their living arrangements.
Her gaze strayed to the three closed doors within the room. “Where do those go?”
He pointed to each in turn. “Closet. Bathroom. Rest of the flat.” Cash smiled, a gleam lighting his green eyes. “Pretty posh digs, if you ask me. You must be very good at what you do.”
The reminder of her so-called job made her cheeks flame, and she marched for the door he’d declared the bathroom before Cash could call her on it. “I’m taking a bath. When I get out, I expect some of those answers you promised me last night. No more audience, so you have no more reason to avoid telling me the truth. If you even know what that is.”
She slammed the door shut behind her. Its sharp crack was satisfying on an annoy-Cash level, but the burst of pain in her head at the sound made her slump against the heavy wood.
No more drinking, she decided with a groan. Ever.
A long, hot soak in the tub did wonders for Maddy’s hangover. She’d panicked when she realized she couldn’t reach the zipper on her dress, but the possibility of asking Cash for his help spurred a bout of creative disrobing. In the end, a full-length mirror, a hairpin—at least, she thought it was a hairpin—and really flexible limbs had done the trick for her, allowing her to shed the gown and slide into the bubbly water without any outside aid.
As she stood in the entrance of her closet, though, Maddy had to admit Cash had been right about one thing. Escort or not, she was doing extremely well. It couldn’t even be classified as a closet. The room that contained her wardrobe was twelve-by-twelve, with two walls filled with clothes-stuffed doub
le racks. It was a plethora of color, every permutation of attire imaginable hanging in wait. Men’s clothes—Cash’s, most likely—adorned a third wall, while the remaining was dedicated to a dressing table and accessories.
Sliding open some of the drawers, Maddy’s jaw dropped at the sight of the jewelry she found. Gemstones of every hue and shape were set into necklaces, earrings, bracelets. There were even a few tiaras thrown into the mix. Whether they were real or not, the thought of getting the opportunity to wear even some of them was exciting. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Half an hour later, she stepped out of the bedroom and found Cash in an enormous living room, his feet propped up on a large coffee table as he lounged on an overstuffed settee. His eyes widened slightly at the knit dress she wore, the peach-colored fabric clinging to her hips, and he let out a low whistle that made her blush.
“You might hate being here,” he said, “but this place sure as hell doesn’t hate you.”
She didn’t know what to say to that and pretended not to care as she wandered around the room, running a hand along the plush couch, caressing the smooth mahogany of a sideboard. When she came to a closed door only a few feet away from her bedroom, she hesitated.
“What’s in here?” she asked.
“Another bedroom.” As she reached for the doorknob, he added, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “What can be so bad about a bedroom?”
Opening the door was all it took to answer that question.
Maddy froze in the entryway. A huge bed dressed in red satin dominated the center of the room, with piles of pillows thrown across its head. Hanging from the ceiling in the far corner was a swing—at least, she thought it was a swing, as it appeared to be made up of just a few dark straps—while the wardrobe next to it was open to reveal an array of costumes, both male and female, for every version of Naughty Nurse, Sexy Schoolgirl, and Hunky Harem Boy anyone could ever desire.
“I did warn you,” Cash said behind her.
Too carefully, Maddy pulled the door shut again. “What kind of place is this?” she asked as she turned back to face him.
His face grew solemn, dimples disappearing as surely as his smile did. “You probably want to sit down for this,” he said, shifting so he was in the corner of the couch.
She hesitated for only a moment before joining him.
He really didn’t want to do this. It had been seven years since he’d left England behind, eight years since his life had changed forever, and in that entire time, he had only told one other person even a fraction of what his life had truly been like before his departure. It had purely been out of necessity. He never would have managed to keep his job so long at the museum without letting at least one person in on the truth. But the last thing he wanted was to include Maddy in that loop.
It wasn’t because he didn’t trust her, although, considering her distaste for him, maybe it would be smarter for him not to. It was because he didn’t want to put her in any more danger than she already was.
She watched him now from the other end of the couch. It was hard not to let his attention drift, especially considering how the soft peach material of her dress pulled across her breasts, but if he wanted to get this over with, he had to stay focused.
“What would you do if I told you magic was real?” he said carefully.
“I’d smile and nod, and then stand out of the way when the men in the white coats came to take you away to your new padded room.”
His lips twitched. “Then how do you explain all this?”
Cash regarded her closely as her gaze wandered. Doubt clouded her eyes, and she caught the corner of her mouth between her teeth while she debated what to say.
“I don’t,” she finally said. “You do.” She paused, her nose wrinkling. “You’re really going to stick to the magic story?”
“I rather have to. It’s the truth.” With a sigh, Cash let his head fall against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe this would be easier if he didn’t actually look at her while he spoke. “I can’t tell you the specifics of the painting, because I didn’t make it. I can tell you I’ve never seen anything so thoroughly steeped in magic before.”
“And you know this because…?”
“I used to practice.”
When she didn’t respond right away, he risked a glance in her direction. She was staring at him with utter non-understanding. Then she blinked.
“Practice what?”
Cash licked his suddenly dry lips. “Magic. I was a wizard of sorts.”
“What, like…Harry Potter?” Something resembling amusement began to flare within her eyes. “And this painting is from He Who Shall Not Be Named because he wants to kill the man who ruined his life?”
“Actually, I don’t know who sent the painting, but as for someone wanting to kill me, well…that’s not so far from the truth.”
Her mild merriment fled. “That’s the first thing you’ve said that I can believe. I always knew I wasn’t the only one who would take pleasure in seeing you hung, drawn, and quartered.” Her gaze dropped to the hands in her lap, slim fingers knotting and then splaying flat against her legs. “So…if you’re some all-powerful wizard, why don’t you just say Abracadabra and get us out of here?”
“Because I can’t. It’s not just that it’s not my spell to play with…it’s that I literally can’t. I haven’t been able to cast anything since I left England.”
She thought he was crazy. He could see it in her eyes when she looked up at him again. Hell, if he hadn’t lived it, he’d think he was crazy too.
“I’m not going into details,” he said. “The less you know, the safer you’ll be. But, eight years ago, I was involved in something that left people dead and me in trouble for it. I wasn’t ready to take the fall, so I made arrangements to go into hiding. That meant getting rid of my powers so they couldn’t find me.” He frowned, stopping to think. “Well, not rid of, exactly. They’re still there. Just…dampened, and beyond my reach, so effectively gone.”
“You do realize how insane all of this sounds, don’t you?”
Cash smiled. “You think I’d make myself sound like such a nutter if it wasn’t true? Please. You’d have a field day with this back at the museum. I’m fairly certain you could make it bad enough that I’d never get a date again.”
When she chuckled, some of his worry began to dissipate. Laughter was a good sign. It meant she wasn’t frightened or furious with him, which meant a greater likelihood in getting her cooperation from this point out. He hid his own smile from her. It could be fun to have Maddy on his side for a change.
Taking a deep breath, Maddy rose from the couch and began wandering around the room again. “I want you to know I think this is the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard you tell.” She paused to inspect the heavy crystal sitting on the sideboard. “And considering some of the whoppers you’ve told, that says a lot.”
“Maddy—”
“But I’m going to believe you. For now. Because when I try to make some sense of all this?” She shook her head. “I get nothing.”
It was more than he’d thought she would concede. He smiled at her in gratitude.
“Why would someone who wants you dead send you someplace like this, though? Did they think you weren’t hiding enough?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to wrap my brain around that since last night.”
“Just tell me one more thing.” Her eyes pleaded with him, though he was fairly sure that wasn’t her intention. “Do you know how to get us out of here and back to the museum?”
“No.” As tough as that was to admit, he refused to give her a glimmer of hope. “But I know someone who can figure it out. And as soon as I come up missing, she’ll be right on top of it. I promise.”
Ava was busy with the dating on the new Egyptian exhibit when the knock came at the door. “Come in!”
The door whispered op
en. “Jesus, how cold do you guys need it back here?”
She glanced up to see Aaron Keating, the museum’s general manager, hovering in the entrance. His all-American face was screwed into a grimace, his muscular body already hunching in on itself. He looked more like a little boy than an ex-pro running back. Letting go of the door, he caught it with his shoulder in order to keep it open, bringing his hands up to his face to blow onto his fingers.
Ava grinned. “It’s better for the pieces,” she said, setting down the Q-tip she’d been working with. “What can I do for you?”
His brown eyes flickered around the room. “Actually, I was looking for Cash. He around?”
The way normally placid Aaron couldn’t keep his eyes on any one thing made her nervous. “You know he works the night shift. Why do you need him? Is something wrong?”
“No, no,” he said really, really fast. Too fast. “But he’s not answering at home, so I thought maybe he might still be here at work.” His gaze finally came to rest on her. “Did he look all right when he went off shift? Nothing weird happening in the art world I need to know about?”
“I didn’t see him, actually.”
“Oh.” He took a minute to process this, and then asked, “What about Maddy? Did she say anything was out of the ordinary? With work or Cash maybe?”
She was beyond nervous and into completely creeped out. Aaron never bothered with them. He couldn’t even remember Maddy’s name half the time. “I didn’t see her, either.” Ava slid off the stool to step toward him. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I just…” He scratched at the back of his head, mussing his wavy blond hair. “If Cash calls or comes in, tell him I need to speak with him, okay?”
He started to turn away, the door swinging shut behind him, when Ava called out, “He got a package yesterday.” Aaron caught the door with his foot, scuffing his brown loafer. “It was still sitting out when I came in this morning, so I shelved it for him. Not that that’s weird, because he gets packages all the time, but this one was a painting and he doesn’t do those. Maddy does.”
