by Jane Kindred
Theia was still hovering. “I didn’t know if I should take you to the emergency room. I figured they wouldn’t know what to make of that...stuff.”
Lucien grunted, hoping it was an acceptable answer.
“Lucien, can you just talk to me for a minute? Like you give a damn that I’m here?”
Reluctantly, he opened one eye. And felt like the biggest asshole alive. Theia’s eyes were red and puffy, like she’d been crying for hours. Probably all night and then some.
“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing he could think of to say. Because he was. Sorry to his bones. Sorry he wasn’t strong enough to stand up to his father. Sorry that he knew what he knew about her—and that he’d let it define his actions. Sorry that he’d ever met her, because how was he ever going to be normal again without her?
“I tried to call you. I texted you a dozen times.”
“I know.”
“Acting like I don’t exist so you don’t have to deal with your decision to choose money over me is a shitty thing to do. Can you just tell me to my face that you don’t want to see me?”
Lucien sat up, clutching the bed to try to keep it from spinning. “No, I can’t.”
“You can’t tell me to my face.”
“I don’t want to.” The look on her face made Lucien’s heart hurt. Dammit, hearts were stupid. Even stupider than heads, which in his case was pretty damn stupid. Shut up, heart. Shut up. “I don’t want to because I don’t want it to be true. But it is.”
The pained look in Theia’s eyes turned hard. “Okay. Well, I’m glad we cleared that up. I’ll call you a cab.” She slammed the door before he could say anything else, and the reverberating echo, like rocks smashing together in his head, made it impossible.
After a moment, Lucien realized he was in the master bedroom, which had a bathroom attached. He rolled out of the bed and made his way to the toilet, bracing his left hand on the bed for balance. He had to use the left hand to aim, too, which was awkward.
As he made his way back through the bedroom, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. What was he going to say to her? What the hell was he going to do?
Reflected in the full-length mirror in front of him was a painting hanging over the bed: John Collier’s Lilith—the redheaded nude with the secretive smile—in the embrace of the snake. Maybe it was his fate. Maybe he should stop running from it. Leo and Rafe Diamante and Dev Gideon seemed perfectly happy with their lot. Maybe he could embrace the devil inside him and everything would be okay.
And maybe hell was real, and he would find himself dragged down into it, unable to escape Madeleine Marchant’s curse.
His arm throbbed, and his head was pounding. And his goddamn heart hurt. He opened the door, ready to tell Theia that he was an idiot, that he was prepared to defy his father’s wishes, and he didn’t care if he was penniless and hell-bound so long as he was with her.
Theia stood by the open front door at the end of the hallway. “Your cab is here. Hurry up. I don’t want Puddleglum to get out.”
Chapter 22
The cab pulled out onto the drive, and Theia let the edge of the curtain fall. She was done crying over Lucien. He could go to hell for all she cared.
Rhea had told her about Polly and how Lucien had been having no trouble at all getting over Theia. It hardened her resolve. Let the siren have him. Theia had been ignoring all the omens, all the warnings, all the dreams. Now she didn’t have to, because fate had decided for her.
With Carter’s help.
Theia frowned. It was past time to talk to Ione. There was something happening here that was bigger than having her heart stomped on. Might as well bite the bullet and do it face-to-face. She still had Ione’s shawl from the reception to return.
Theia texted her sister to tell her she was coming by with the shawl and headed out.
Ione was in a considerably better mood than she’d been after the wedding. Which of course Theia was going to ruin by bringing up Carter again. After dropping off the shawl, she lingered in Ione’s garden, trying to figure out how to broach the subject while Ione trimmed her roses, but, as usual, her big sister managed to be one step ahead of her.
“Rhea says you have a new job. When does it start?”
Theia sniffed a cluster of tea roses. “It fell through, actually.”
“That’s too bad.” Ione deadheaded a limp rose with her pruning shears. “You and that Smok boy looked pretty good together.”
Theia groaned into the rose petals. “Why do you always know everything before I tell you about it?”
Ione gave her a cryptic smile. “I have my witchy ways.”
“Nice. You’re doing magic divination about my love life. Who isn’t?”
“Rhea, for one. She says you won’t let her read your tattoos.”
Theia stepped back from the rosebush with a glare. “She told you about Lucien.”
“She was a little worried about you. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“That’s kind of what I came to talk to you about.”
“Oh? I thought you came to bring back my shawl.” Ione gave her that look again that said Theia was fighting a losing battle if she thought she could ever put one over on her big sister.
“I don’t suppose Rhea mentioned anything about Lucien’s hobby.”
“She did say something about an archery incident.”
“Did she happen to tell you that someone’s been feeding Lucien information about us to get him to target Leo and Rafe and Dev?”
Ione scowled. “It’s him, isn’t it? That’s what he was doing at the wedding. Letting us know he had us in his sights.”
Theia inspected another rose before broaching the rest of it. “I talked to Lucien’s sister yesterday and found out Carter has signed on as a silent partner with Smok International. Lucy says he has some kind of influence over her father—I’m betting you and I can guess how—and the whole thing has her worried.”
“Lucy?”
“Lucien’s sister. They’re twins. She kind of hates me. But I think she hates Carter more.”
With a sharp snip of her shears, Ione managed to deadhead a happily blooming rose. “What does he want with a pharmaceutical company?”
“It’s more like parapharmacology. I can’t really get into the specifics. I signed a nondisclosure agreement. But suffice it to say, there are...magical applications. The company also has a consulting arm that cleans up after magical accidents. They cleaned up your place.”
“My place?”
“After you, uh, let Kur out that first time.”
Ione blushed but shook her head. “That was Rafe’s crew.”
“The construction crew was Rafe’s. The cleaners were contractors. From Smok.”
Ione’s eyes darkened. “Which Carter now owns part of.”
“Which means he has a potential foot in the door of every magical household in the world.”
“Lovely.”
Theia stepped away from the roses. “I have to drive to Flagstaff, so I’d better get going. I just thought you should know.”
Ione walked her to the garden gate, frown lines etched into her forehead.
Theia turned back after opening it. “By the way, congratulations, Mrs. Gideon.” She winked and gave Ione a kiss on the cheek.
Ione’s eyes widened before narrowing into a glare. “I told him not to tell you. And it’s Ms. Carlisle, thank you very much. I’m not changing my name.”
Theia grinned. “Of course you’re not.”
* * *
Lucien gritted his teeth as the doctor extracted the last of the gel.
Fran gave him a disapproving look from behind her rimless glasses. She’d been treating Lucien’s mishaps for most of his life.
“You know this wouldn’t be this painful if you’d just called me the day after
it happened.”
“Yes, I know. Yes, I’m an idiot. Yes, I deserve every ounce of pain I’ve got coming.”
Fran glanced over the top of her lenses. “I wouldn’t go quite that far. But it is going to be painful, unfortunately. And not just right now. It’s not possible to restore the bone fully since you’ve let this gel degrade. I’m removing as much as I can, but you’re likely to retain some residual gel in the joint, which will probably cause some chronic stiffness and inflammation.”
“You mean I’ve managed to give myself arthritis before I even hit my midtwenties.”
Fran shrugged apologetically. “That’s about the size of it.”
“Fantastic.”
The doctor straightened, holding up the large syringe full of fluorescent gray-green sludge. “That should do it. As for the break, I think we can avoid a full cast and keep it immobilized with a splint. As long as you promise not to get into any more fights until it heals.”
“Yeah, I think my fighting days may be over.”
“I heard you’re taking the helm at Smok. Congratulations. I never thought Edgar would retire. Certainly not this early.” Fran glanced up as she adjusted the straps of the splint. “How does Lucy feel about all this?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her.”
“Do you think that’s wise? I mean, she is still the CFO. Not to mention your sister.”
“She’ll get over it.” Lucien’s response was a bit terse, but it seemed a little inappropriate for Fran to comment on family business. He supposed she saw the two of them as almost like family of her own, having treated them since they were kids. And she was also his shrink.
Fran was quiet as she finished and packed up her bag, and Lucien felt like a jerk. It was becoming a familiar feeling.
“Thanks for making the house call.” He lifted his arm gingerly. “It still hurts like hell, but honestly, it feels at least fifty percent better.”
Fran’s warm smile was back. “That’s what Edgar pays me for.” She studied him for a moment. “Have you been sleeping well? You look a little wan.”
Lucien laughed. He was born wan.
“There’s been a lot to get used to. And I drank more than I should have last night.”
“If you need a prescription for a sleep aid, I can write one up.” She took out a pen. “Or a refill on your antidepressants or antianxiety meds.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m good.”
After she’d gone, Lucien discovered a message waiting for him from Edgar. He was being summoned: a command performance with the board of directors to meet the new financial partner—none other than Carter Hamilton. Nothing like being thrown into the deep end with the sharks. The informal meeting with Edgar’s inner circle the day before had been tedious enough. This was the part of the business he’d never wanted to inherit. Lucien was beginning to think he’d made a very bad bargain.
His first official appearance as CEO would be with his arm in a sling. Not exactly the picture of confidence he wanted to project. He was the last to arrive. Lucy sat at what was usually Edgar’s right hand, but Edgar stood behind the chair at the head of the table, waiting to turn it over to Lucien. Lucy’s expression was stoic. Not that stoicism was anything new for her. Edgar gave Lucien a big, pretentious smile. It was all for the benefit of the board. Lucien was sure Edgar had never smiled at him genuinely in his life.
After Edgar introduced him and the board politely applauded, Lucien took the CEO’s seat while Edgar moved to a seat among the other members. To Lucien’s left sat Carter Hamilton in the flesh, polished and overeager, like a slick, blond, high-end car salesman. He seemed innocuous enough, but something about him raised the hairs on the back of Lucien’s neck. Maybe it was the overdone tan that put Lucien in mind of a grifter politician.
After the preliminary business was out of the way and niceties had been exchanged about Lucien’s place in the firm, Edgar turned to Hamilton. “As you know, Carter Hanson Hamilton has thrown in his lot with the Smok enterprise. He’ll be working closely with Lucy in restructuring our executive operations.” Edgar paused and laughed. “I should say your executive operations. As of today, I’m officially stepping down from active participation in the company.” Surprised glances were exchanged around the table. “Carter, would you like to say a few words?”
Unnecessarily, Carter pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “Thank you, Edgar. I’m thrilled to be a part of the Smok family. I see a new, even more prosperous tomorrow for Smok International, and I’m delighted to be able to work with the lovely Lucy Smok on making our plans come to fruition.”
Lucy’s mouth curved into a smile, but her eyes weren’t participating.
As Carter spouted a few more lines of inane corporate babble and the board began to discuss the day’s business, Lucien’s mind wandered. What was he even doing here? He could be with Theia, curled up in bed and nursing his hangover. Instead, he was becoming his father, the last person he’d ever wanted to be.
The meeting was over before Lucien expected it, and he started guiltily, wondering if he’d actually fallen asleep with his eyes open. The board members were approaching him to shake his hand and apparently to try to cozy up to him with more corporate babble and flattery.
Carter was the last to greet him personally. Though the other members had casually taken Lucien’s left hand without comment, Carter made a point of reaching for the right and stopping short.
“My apologies.” He offered his own left hand instead. “Tennis accident?”
Lucien shook his hand, annoyed by the unnecessary firmness of Carter’s grip and the way he pulled Lucien in toward him like an insecure ape trying to assert dominance. “Archery. It’s a hobby.” For some reason he felt the need to add, “Crossbow.”
Carter was still gripping his hand. “Ah, are you a hunter, Mr. Smok?”
“Like I said, it’s a hobby.” Lucien pulled back on his arm, and Carter finally released him. Lucien resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his slacks.
“I’m more of a racquetball man myself. I have a court reserved every Wednesday at 10:00 a.m. on campus. Perhaps we could meet tomorrow and...” Carter glanced at Lucien’s sling. “Oh, right. Sorry. Maybe another time when you’re feeling up to it.” Carter turned to Lucy, who was packing up her briefcase. “Lucy, why don’t you meet me there tomorrow? It will give us a chance to discuss strategy.”
Lucy paused and glanced up at Carter as if he’d just suggested joining him in a naked mud bath. “I have some other commitments, so I afraid I can’t...” Her words trailed off, and she stared openmouthed as Carter turned and started talking to one of the other members of the board without listening to her response.
As the board members filtered out, Lucien turned to go, but Edgar tapped him on the shoulder.
“If you don’t mind, Lucien, I have some details to go over with you. Can you stay a few minutes?”
Lucien glanced at Lucy, who was heading out the door. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been alone in a room with Edgar. He was a grown man, and the idea actually made his stomach churn with anxiety.
“Can it wait?”
Edgar’s dark brows drew together in disapproval. “No, Lucien. It cannot wait. Have a seat.”
Lucien returned to the table reluctantly, hesitating at the chair he’d been sitting in before. Deciding it would be a gesture of respect to leave it for Edgar, he took one on the side, leaving a gap between them.
But Edgar remained on his feet. “You may have some questions about the timing of my announcement. I’ve already spoken to Lucy about it, but I thought you should know.” He clasped his hands behind his back and paced around the table.
“Know?”
“I’m sure you’re aware that I’ve used Smok’s patented medication for some years to supplement my youthfulness. It turns out that prolonged use has some rather
unfortunate side effects. Not surprising ones, really, when it comes right down to it.” Edgar stopped pacing and turned to face Lucien. “Quite simply, things are falling apart. Rapidly. Both body and mind. I was very lucky to run into Carter Hamilton recently. He’s in remarkable health for his age, as it happens, and has never used a drug.” He crossed to the window and looked out at the mountains, perfectly framed. “I’m not well, Lucien. But Carter is extraordinarily well. He’s agreed to share the secret of his good health with me in exchange for majority interest in Smok’s holdings.”
Lucien had known Edgar was older than he looked. Even as a small child, he’d been aware that his father was quite a bit older than the parents of his peers, but it was never spoken of. Lucien and Lucy’s mother hadn’t been his father’s first wife, but they were the only children Edgar had fathered. Lucien had always suspected it was why his mother had left after performing the job she’d presumably been recruited for—producing an heir. For all he knew, she’d been paid for it.
“Why step down as CEO?”
Edgar turned, his brow creased with annoyance. “What?”
“I understand making a bargain with Carter Hamilton for whatever his secret is, but once you’ve done that, why not continue to run the company?”
Edgar’s expression was stiff. “That wasn’t the bargain. The company is yours. Stop whining about it.”
“I’m not whining. I’m just curious.”
“You’re trying to squirm out of your responsibilities as always. Don’t think I didn’t notice your lack of interest and participation in the meeting today. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed. You can’t rely on Lucy to do everything for you your entire life, Lucien. You’re a man. Act like one.”
Lucien’s face burned. There was no retort he could make to any of that, because it was true.
“If there’s nothing else...” He got to his feet, eager to be anywhere but here.
“There is, in fact, something else.” Edgar’s expression was grim. “We need to discuss the legacy bequeathed by Madeleine Marchant.”
