I shake my head. I had no idea some people live like this. After flipping off the light, I move towards the brightly lit doorway several feet down from the billiards room. I can hear the muted sound of metal clanking, and as I get closer, the music becomes clearer. It's some type of hard rock, but it's low enough not to bother anyone upstairs.
I peek around the corner, and my mouth just about hits the floor. It's a mini-gym full of work out equipment, and one wall is made up entirely of mirrors. It's not the sight of the gym that shocks me, though. It's Trace. He's shirtless and wearing only a pair of shorts. I don't know anything about gym equipment, so I can't begin to guess what type of machine he's using. I'm assuming it's to build upper arm strength, because his biceps bunch when he brings his arms together, and I can see his chest muscles tensing every time.
I'm tempted to hightail it back upstairs, since I almost jumped the man Friday night. I wouldn't want him to think I'm following him or turning stalkerish. Wait a second. This is my temporary home, and he's the one who shouldn't be here. With that thought in mind, I step into the doorway and enter the room.
Trace looks up as he catches the movement in the corner of his eye. He looks taken aback to see me, and he promptly lets go of the machine. “Livvy,” he says over the music as he rises to his feet.
Don't look, don't look, don't look, I warn myself. I am not going to stare at his sweaty chest. I keep my eyes focused on his face, but it's hard.
He looks at me questioningly as he walks over to a stereo in the corner of the room and shuts off the music. A heavy silence fills the room. “What are you doing down here?” he asks as he walks towards me.
“What are you doing here?” I counter back as I fight the urge to watch a droplet of sweat make its way down the center of his chest.
Dang.
I can't help myself.
The drop trails down those ridged stomach muscles, and I watch as it dips down into his belly button. He has a nice innie. My eyes helplessly drop lower, and I see a hint of dark hair just above the top of his low riding shorts.
“Sorry,” Trace mutters as he abruptly turns away, grabbing a towel off a hook on the wall. He quickly runs the towel over his chest to dry off the sweat.
Heat rises to my face as I realize I have once again been caught checking out his fine body. Why can't I act normal around him? As I try to pull myself together, I look around the room. My eyes linger everywhere but him. “I had no idea this place has a gym. Or a theater,” I add.
“There's also an indoor pool.”
My eyes jerk back to him, and I see he's now wearing a shirt. Thank you, Lord. “A pool? Really?”
“Yes.” He looks at me closely as he asks, “What are you doing down here? You should be sleeping.”
“I couldn't sleep. Why are you here?”
Trace hesitates. “I live here.”
“You live here?” I echo as I stare at him.
“I'm a personal assistant, I'm usually nearby,” he explains as he reaches up and brushes aside a sweaty piece of hair near his cheek.
“But I've never seen you!”
“I have my own suite, and there's a back entrance I use. I'm not a member of the family, I'm an employee,” he points out. “Employee's don't lounge around their employer's house. That's like the housekeeper making use of the theater or pool while on the job.”
Oh. A frown flickers across my lips. “It's two in the morning, you know.”
Trace folds his arms over his impressive tee-shirt covered chest. “Yes, I'm aware. Why are you down here?”
“I'm exploring.”
His gray eyes roam over my face. “Anything wrong?”
“I have a lot on my mind.”
“Maybe I can help. Want to talk about it?” He motions to the bench press and looks at me expectantly. “Sit. We'll talk until you're ready to go back to bed.”
The fact that he wants to spend time with me has me walking over and sitting down. That's when I realize I probably have bed head. I glance down, remembering that I'm wearing shorts and a tank. I probably look like crap. Well, too late now. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and watch as Trace leans against a nearby machine.
“What's going on in that head of yours?” he asks.
I decide to go with the truth. “It bothers me that I haven't heard from my mom.”
“Has she always been the attentive type? Did she always need to know where you were? Like that type of attentive?” He asks with interest as he wipes his sweaty brow while his attention stays focused on me.
“No, not really,” I say reluctantly.
“Maybe she's just really caught up in her own life right now.”
“But to disconnect the phone, the only way I have to contact her?”
“Is it possible the phone was damaged, and she just hasn't had the chance to replace it?” he questions.
“It's been weeks, Trace.”
“She still might call,” he offers.
I nod, looking down at my hands. I don't think she will. Either she's moved on with her own life without me or something happened. If only I knew she was okay.
“You were out with Roman Friday night, so I take it things are good now between you two?”
His question has me looking up at him again. His eyes are watchful as he waits for an answer. “We're getting there. I'm not sure I like his friends.”
Interest flickers across his features. “Why not?”
“Nathan's made a pass at me twice when I've made it pretty clear I'm not interested. As for Tatum and Harper, I just don't feel comfortable around them.”
“Sometimes it takes a while to grow comfortable around people that are new to you.”
I doubt I'll ever be comfortable around them. “So, were you out with friends Friday night?”
“Yes.”
“I'm sorry you cut your night short because of me.” I flush slightly.
“I didn't. I went back after you passed out.”
Jealousy creeps up on me, and it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. He'd either gone back to the club to be with friends or to be with a woman. Maybe even a girlfriend. I want to ask if he has one, but I can't work up the nerve. I threw myself at him Friday night, no need to make it worse by asking if he's single.
Trace straightens up, no longer leaning against the gym equipment. “Do you work tomorrow?”
I nod.
“You should try to get some sleep, or you'll be tired during your shift.”
I guess that's my cue that this conversation is over. “I should go back upstairs,” I agree as I rise to my feet.
***
On Tuesday, I am determined to hire another private investigator. This time I bring along more cash after digging into the secret stash in my shoe box. I also take off early from the store after asking Selena if I could leave for an appointment.
The entire way to Minneapolis, I watch the rearview mirror intently. It doesn't seem like anyone's following me. But just in case, I drive around the city aimlessly until I feel comfortable driving into a parking ramp about a block down from Kramer's office. He's expecting me after I'd called earlier for an appointment.
After exiting the ramp, I walk briskly down the street, looking around every so often. I'd deliberately parked in the ramp so that my car wasn't noticeable if I am indeed being followed tonight. I don't feel that odd sensation of being watched, so I'm thinking I'm in the clear. I either lost a tail in traffic, or no one's watching me. Maybe they still think I'm at work.
The meeting with Kramer is quick. He balks at my age, but when I offer up extra cash, his eyes gleam and he accepts my case. I dare to inquire if he'd look into one other person, and when I give him Khristos's full name, Kramer immediately shakes his head. “I'll look for Caroline Vauss, but I'm not looking into Khristos Deveroux.”
“Why?”
“He's an acquaintance. He's off limits.”
I begin to worry. “Can we keep the investigation confidential?”
“Yes
, every case is always confidential. And considering this is off the record because of your age, I'm not likely to share it with anyone.”
After I fill out the paperwork, I walk out feeling pleased by the meeting. Hopefully Kramer can find my mom.
The sooner the better.
Chapter Ten
My heart sinks when Tatum enters the store during my shift on Wednesday. The last person I want to see is the girl responsible for me jumping Trace in the foyer. I quickly turn my back on her before she notices me, and I walk to the very back of the store to begin rearranging the satin robes hanging off a rack. Someone had gotten sloppy earlier when rummaging through them. I begin separating the colors and organizing them neatly.
I smell her unique perfume before she speaks, and I try not to tense up.
“You cut out early Friday night,” Tatum says from behind me.
Since I'm working, I have no choice but to act professional and friendly. Especially since Selena is working tonight. I turn and paste a polite smile on my lips. “I wasn't in the mood to stick around.”
Her bright red lips compress slightly as she studies me. “Why are you so standoffish?”
“I'm not,” I say as I turn back to the robes and grab a couple more pinks that are mixed in with the purples.
“Yes, you are. Roman can't get close to you, and neither can I. It's like you're anti-social or something.”
I level her with a look as I shove the robes in place. “Why exactly would you want to get close to me, Tatum?”
“You're Roman's cousin,” she points out.
Now, I turn and face her completely as I give her my undivided attention. “I feel like there's more to it. Roman acts strange around me. And you...I get the feeling that you don't even like me.”
Tatum cocks her head, her dark brown eyes narrowing before she says simply, “You're right. I don't like you.”
I hate her confidence. “I don't like you, either.”
“Glad we're in agreement over something.” Her eyes drift over my outfit, taking in my pale blue skirt and white blouse. “Someday, real soon, you're going to need me. That day will be here sooner than you think,” she warns.
Her comment sobers me up real fast as I study her. She knows whatever Roman and Khristos is keeping from me. I don't like her, but I have to ask, “There's a lot that I don't know, isn't there?”
“Yes,” she confirms.
I can't keep my eyes from widening slightly, because I hadn’t expected her to admit it. “Khristos and Roman are hiding something. Something big,” I guess.
Tatum sighs, shifting on her feet slightly. She hesitates, then shoots me a warning look. “I can get in big trouble for this conversation, so it needs to end here. Do me a favor, keep it between us.”
I nod. I was hoping for more information, but at least Tatum had been truthful with me. She begins to walk away. “Tatum?”
She pauses and turns back to look at me.
“Thanks for being honest. I think you're the first person that's been open with me about whatever no one wants me to know about.”
Something shifts in her expression, and she reluctantly walks back to me. “I don't like to lie. I'll always tell you like it is.”
“But you won't tell me what they're hiding?”
“It's not my place to tell.” Then, she looks up at the ceiling briefly before she makes up her mind about something. She gives me a sidelong glance and says, “I'm going to give you some friendly advice.”
“Okay.”
“This conversation never happened,” she warns, and I can see the conflict in her eyes. I get the feeling she wants to say much more, but something’s holding her back. “If you repeat it, and I get in trouble, Roman won't appreciate it. We're tight, if you know what I mean,” she says deliberately.
That answers one question I've been wanting to ask. Tatum might not be Roman's girlfriend, but they've slept together. That, I am now certain of. I nod to Tatum. “I won't say anything. Everyone's lying to me these days. I can sense it, and things aren't adding up. I'm not going to stab you in the back when you're the only person that isn't treating me like I'm stupid.”
She smirks. “I never said you weren't stupid.”
“Ha. Funny,” I say dryly.
Amusement flickers across her pretty features before she turns serious. “I'll tell you this. They are keeping you in the dark, because they feel it's in your best interest right now.”
“My best interest? I'm feeling paranoid everywhere I go!” I hiss as I spy a customer walking closer to our corner of the store.
Tatum nods as if she understands how stressed I've been. “I know, it probably sucks, but you have to think about it logically. Your boyfriend tried to kill you, and now you're in a new town with family you're not familiar with. You really think they're going to dump more on you during a time like this?”
“I can handle it. It's better than being suspicious of every little thing.”
“Look at it this way, they care about you. All they are doing is trying to protect you. When things don't add up, just remember that they aren't trying to upset you. Just let it go for now, Livvy. Trust me on this.”
Frustration sweeps through me. I'm still not getting much out of Tatum. “Will you be honest with me about one thing?”
A delicate, black eyebrow lifts pointedly. “I'm being honest already.”
“And I appreciate it,” I say gratefully. “I really do. But I have one more question, then I'll drop it.”
“I'll try to be as honest as I can.”
Good enough. “Why is it so important that I befriend you guys? Roman's made it clear I need to be accepted. Why? Does it really matter?”
Tatum's silent for a moment. “Yes, it's important you get to know us. When school starts, you're going to need me, Harper, Roman, and even Nathan. I can't tell you why, but it's in your best interest to get to know us and get comfortable being around our small group,” she says simply.
I stare at her long and hard. “This school isn't friendly, is it?”
“They won't be to you.”
She says it with such conviction that a chill sweeps through me. What the hell? I'm new to this town. Why would the other students not like me? “Is it because I live with the Deveroux's?”
“Something like that.”
So, I'm going to be blacklisted partly because I live with the Deveroux's. What's the other reason? I can feel another headache coming on. “Do I have to worry about violence?” I ask warily as I reach up and rub my temple, trying to soothe the pain.
Tatum's eyes flicker to my hand massaging my temple, and her expression seems to abruptly shut down. “I can't say any more. Let everything fall into place naturally. I promise, by the time school starts in September, you'll know everything.”
“Thanks, Tatum,” I say as I drop my hand and look at her sincerely. “I swear I won't repeat any of this. This conversation never happened.”
“If you go back on your word, I'll be the one you have to watch out for at school, you hear me?” she threatens. And just like that, Tatum's back in bitch mode.
I can't resist riling her up, because I'm not the little mouse she thinks I am. “I have a feeling that if I did go back on my word, you wouldn't be able to touch me,” I muse. Roman and Khristos would never allow it. At least I don't think. Not if I go by what she just told me.
Her eyes narrow.
“It's not fun being on the other side, is it?” I ask as I deliberately smirk the way she has a tendency to smirk at me.
Recognition flares in her eyes. “You might start to grow on me. You have a long ways to go before I upgrade you to 'like' status, though.” She shoots me a look before she turns and saunters off.
I fight back a grin. I have to admit, I kind of like our banter now that I know she's not a complete bitch. She just put herself on the line by being honest with me. It's something I won't forget. And ironically enough, I'm coming to realize that I feel more alive here in Cherry Creek than I ha
d back in Missouri. Back home, everything had been just a routine that I'd grown accustomed to. Wake up, go to school, go home, go to work, maybe hang with Brad, go to bed. I hadn't done anything exciting, and Brad had been the type who was always playing football or video games. We spent a lot of time at the apartment or at his house. We didn't even go to parties. Well, he did, but I didn't, because I worked a lot. Not that I'll ever admit it to Khristos, but every day here is a new one, and I'm always curious as to what the day will bring.
Unbelievable.
I'm actually starting to like it here.
***
My conversation with Tatum haunts me the rest of the evening during my shift, and slowly my mood begins to darken. Why would the other teenagers at school not like me? It has something to do with the Deveroux's, but what? Now that I know I won't be easily accepted at school, I feel anxious to contact my mom. My life with her might have been a bit boring and repetitive compared to the life I lead now, but at least no one had issues with me at school. I have my entire senior year to get through. I can't imagine being stuck at a school where people openly dislike me.
As if my conversation with Tatum isn't enough to dampen my mood, Selena asks me to stay late and help her with some inventory. Around nine she sends me on my way while she decides to stay another hour.
By the time I step out of the store and walk across the now empty parking lot, my head is pounding horribly. My car is the only car left in the back of the lot except for Selena's little, white car parked two spaces down. I can't help but wince as my temples throb intensely. Why won't it stop? Nothing I take for the headaches help anymore. I'm halfway to my car when a sharp pain in my right temple causes me to clutch my head as I stagger, then I drop to my knees as an imaginary knife seems to tear into my temple.
A whimper escapes me as I kneel in the parking lot, unable to do anything but cradle my head. Small rocks from the pavement dig into my bare knees as the pain in my head grows debilitating. I can barely function as I huddle there, drawing in jagged breaths as the pain continues on and on.
“Livvy.” I hear Trace's voice from out of nowhere, and his arms wrap around me, drawing me up against his solid chest. “It'll pass soon. Just try to relax,” he says grimly.
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