But that hadn't stopped her from feeling.
Lindy was happy around him. She missed him when he was gone; she hurt when he was sad, smiled when he laughed.
He was in her heart now.
She couldn't deny it. And she wasn't sure she wanted to.
Lindy had never realized before how unloved and unlovable she had always felt. Gabriel told her he loved her, but then he put her on a pedestal, made her change everything about herself. Their marriage was cold and distant. And she had always thought it was the best she could ever do.
She had had more passion in three weeks with Michael than she'd had in her entire five-year marriage to Gabriel.
Michael was offering her a chance to have that passion always.
But what about her vows to Gabriel? Didn't they mean anything to her anymore? This thing between her and Michael, she knew it was wrong. But did it irretrievably destroy all the obligations of her marriage? Gabriel hadn't done anything to her to deserve to be abandoned while she went off to chase a fantasy.
Maybe she should just be grateful for what she had and not expect anything more.
It was too much, too overwhelming. All the questions, all the doubts swirled around in her head, leaving her breathless and dizzy. The only peace she found was in knowing that she didn't have to commit to anything now. She had a week. And she could talk to Michael about it. He understood. Maybe he could help her make sense of it all. If nothing else, she knew she would find solace in the comfort of his arms.
Lindy's name was already on the visitors list when she arrived at the office lobby. She dialed his cell phone. “I'm here,” she said softly when he answered.
"I'll meet you at the elevators.” His words were equally quiet, but she thought she heard the weight of emotion behind them.
The elevator ride up to seventeen seemed interminable. No amount of cheery music could ease her anxiety. Only one thing could.
Michael was pacing in front of the elevator doors nervously when she arrived. She stepped out of the car, letting the doors close behind her as he drank in the sight of her. Slowly he stepped towards her, and she felt the comforting familiarity of her body's awareness of him. He didn't touch her, just stared deep into her eyes. “Are we okay?"
She gave him a watery smile, then wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close as his own arms enfolded her. “Not yet. But we will be."
She felt his breath hitch in a silent sob before his mouth was on hers, gentle, comforting. Loving.
They were both smiling when the kiss ended. He gently stroked her loose hair away from her face. “I have to get back to this meeting, just for about ten more minutes or so. And then we'll go someplace, wherever you want, and talk this out, yeah? All afternoon and all night if we have to."
She cupped his cheek gently. “I'd like that."
He glanced around surreptitiously before capturing her lips again, this time with more passion. It was the most natural thing in the world to surrender to him.
"You have to go,” she murmured against his soft mouth.
He sighed, pulling back but not letting her go. “Wait for me in my office?"
She nodded, slipping out of his arms. She could feel him watching her as she walked away.
Her heart felt so much lighter. He loved her, and suddenly for the first time, that made her feel strong. They would talk, and they would figure things out. And maybe she could be happy.
She slipped past Carly's unoccupied desk and into Michael's empty office.
Except that it wasn't empty.
A woman stood there, tall and slender to the point of anorexia. Her pale white hair hung in curls about her shoulder, one large piece of it gathered into an elaborate knot at the crown of her head. When she turned, Lindy saw she had delicate, almost childlike features, enormous eyes and a full, red mouth in the middle of her tiny face. But those eyes were sharp, and everything about her screamed predator.
Lindy hung back hesitantly. Michael had asked her to meet him here, but didn't say anything about someone being here already. “Can I help you?” she asked uncertainly.
"Oh, no thank you, my sweet. I'm just waiting on Rogue."
Her musical accent was similar to Michael's, which sent a frission of unease across Lindy's nerves. “He's in a meeting,” she explained. “But he'll be back in a couple of minutes."
"Wonderful!” The woman clapped her hands girlishly. “It's been such a long time since I've seen him. We can wait together, can't we, you and I? And you can tell me wonderful stories about yourself.” She hefted herself up to sit on the front of the desk, hands curled around the edge, feet in narrow heeled granny boots kicking lightly, causing the lace of her long skirt to ripple in erratic waves.
"I don't have any stories.” Lindy felt more uncomfortable the longer she talked to this woman. But she seemed to be a friend of Michael's, and while his friends were unusual, she had ended up liking them all. So she tried to quell her discomfort for his sake.
"Now, now. Mustn't lie. Everyone's life is a story. You just need to know how to tell it."
"Oh.” She looked around everywhere except at the platinum beauty.
"You don't work here, do you?” The woman sounded as though she already knew the answer.
"No. My husband does."
"But this isn't your husband's office, is it?"
"No. I'm meeting Michael for lunch. We're ... friends."
"Tsk, tsk. Little doves shouldn't tell such tales.” She hopped down off the desk and slowly stalked Lindy. “I know who you are, Lindy James. I know you are Gabriel's wife. And I know what you want with my Rogue."
"Your Rogue?” Confusion gave way to understanding in an instant, and Lindy's eyes widened in misgiving “You are his ex-wife."
"He still talks about me.” She seemed genuinely moved. “My darling, darling boy."
"He told me you cheated on him. And he caught you.” Lindy was angry now.
Michael's former wife clapped excitedly. “Oh, the story gets better and better! But did he tell you who I was with when he found me?"
"Why should I care?"
"Oh, you should, naughty dolly. You should. For I was with your own sweet husband.” Her manic grin lit up her face. “And he was very sweet."
Lindy froze.
The woman went on, though. “Oh, poor Rogue was in such a terrible state. He wanted to lash out and hurt us, but he just stood and watched. And planned his wicked, wicked plans."
"What..."
"Poor poppet. You didn't really think he had feelings for you, did you? An innocent child like you? No, pet, he likes his women with a bit more bite. But he thought he could reach Gabriel through you. Have his naughty, nasty way with you and rub Gabriel's nose in it. My poor Rogue. He does try."
"Just stop!” Lindy insisted. “I don't believe you!"
"Which part, little girl?"
"All of it! I don't know why you're doing this, but I don't believe you. Gabriel wouldn't cheat. And Michael...” Lindy's head was reeling again, her composure lost.
"But it doesn't matter what you believe. What matters is what Rogue believes. Isn't that right, my love?” This last was directed over Lindy's shoulder.
She spun to see Michael standing in the open door, his face a murderous cloud. “What in the hell are you doing here?"
The sight before him was a tableau out of his worst nightmares. Hope, with her sharp verbal fangs deep into Lindy. Lindy was white and trembling, while Hope just watched, detached. “I asked you a question, Hope,” he snarled, advancing on her. “Why are you here?"
She moved gracefully back to the desk, picking up a sheaf of papers wrapped in blue cardstock. “We had some details to finish up on the property settlement, so I though I would bring them myself. And I got to share lovely stories with your comfort dolly. She's very lovely, Rogue. Did she make all the hurt go away?"
"Shut the fuck up, Hope."
"Tsk. Such language. I don't think your dolly likes it very much, do you, dolly?�
� She leaned close to Lindy. “See? You were just telling your story wrong. It's so much better now. Go on, dear. Ask him."
Lindy looked ensorcelled. “Is it true?"
His look softened. “Is what true, love?” He tried to make his voice soothing.
"What she said. Did you pick me up to get even with Gabriel?” The words dropped like stones from her mouth.
He stepped toward her, one hand out. “It's not that simple..."
"Yes. Yes, it is. It's a very simple question with a simple yes or no answer. Did you use me to get back at Gabriel?” Each word was emphasized with bile and revulsion.
He couldn't answer her.
"Oh my god.” She covered her mouth in horror.
"Lindy..."
"No!” Her hand stopped him. Slowly she backed away from him. “No more words. No more lies. Just...” She hesitated at the door. Without looking back, she added in a small, resigned voice, “Have a safe trip back to England. Rogue."
And she was gone.
Her last word a knife in his heart, he started after her. “Lindy, wait!"
Hope's sharp voice calling his name stopped him. She waved the legal document at him. “Business before pleasure, my Rogue."
He was on her in two steps. He snatched the papers out of her hand and tore them to bits, throwing them back in her face. “I could kill you where you stand. You stay the hell away from me from now on or I'll do just that. You got something to say to me, go through my solicitor. I never want to see you again. And you can forget about any more of your little additions to the divorce agreement. You've gotten everything you're going to from me.” He snatched the door open. “You may have taken too much already."
When the elevators didn't respond instantly to his call, he banged through the fire door and down the stairs. Sixteen flights of stairs at full speed took him three minutes to reach the ground. He slammed through the crash bar on the emergency exit and out into the street, ignoring the alarm his exit triggered.
The street was crowded, a typical New York lunch hour. Cars and cabs flew by, and masses of people blocked his view as he turned, looking for any sign of her chestnut head. But there was no sign of her.
She was gone.
Chapter 36
"Lindy! Open the door!"
The side of Rogue's fist was livid and swollen from pounding on the brownstone door for the past half hour.
He had to find her, had to explain it all, try to make it right. But she wouldn't answer the fucking door.
"Lindy, please, pet. We need to talk!"
"Excuse me, sir,” a brusque voice spoke behind him. He spun to see a beat cop standing at the foot of the stairs, looking at him sternly.
"Good afternoon, officer.” His eyes shifted back to the house. Had she called the cops on him? “What can I do for you?"
"Neighbors called in a disturbance.” The heavy-set black man didn't change tone or expression. “I'm thinking that would be you."
Rogue pointed to the house. “Just need to speak to the lady of the manor and I'll be on my way."
The officer crossed his arms. “The lady doesn't seem to be home. Time to move on."
"Yeah, but..."
"Time to move on now."
Rogue growled in frustration but came down the steps. The officer turned and watched as Rogue walked down the street away from the house. He was still watching when Rogue turned the corner.
Rogue followed around the block until he found the narrow access alley that ran through the middle of the block. He counted off houses until he found hers, surrounded by a high brick wall with a padlocked iron gate at the door.
He vaulted up on some abandoned boxes and swung over the top of the wall. He crushed the dead, dry husks of the summer's growth of asters and baby's breath, skeletal remainders of the passing year. The path to the house, which must have been crowded in with plants in warmer times, was now clear straight up to the empty patio. He tried the bulkhead doors to the basement as well as the back door, but both were locked tight. The logo and thin strips of silver tape in the window warned him that trying to break in would only bring the beat cop and a crew of his mates in a hurry. Rogue peered in the sunroom windows. The house seemed to be dark, and there was no sign in the kitchen of her purse or jacket. Maybe she really wasn't home, and he was wasting his time here.
He used the gate to climb back out of the garden, then returned to Eighty-Seventh Street and began walking east until he caught a cab. He gave the driver directions down to Lindy's studio, then pulled out his cell phone and dialed hers.
"This is Lindy,” she answered after the fifth ring. He could hear that she was crying, her normally lyrical voice harsh and cracked. Another knife slipped between his ribs.
"Lindy, I need to talk to you. Please, let me..."
The dial tone interrupted him. He dialed her again and got the voice mail. The whole way from the Upper West Side to Soho he tried, getting her service time and time again. Finally, within blocks of the studio, someone answered.
"I'm sorry,” the mechanical voice recited, “the cellular phone number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service."
He jammed the end button and dialed another number.
"You have reached Gabriel and Lindy's residence,” Gabriel's voice intoned. “We aren't available to come..."
He swore and threw the phone across the seat.
The driver pulled up in front of the studio, and Rogue shoved a wad of bills he hoped was roughly the equivalent of the amount on the screen through the window and got out, grabbing the phone again on his way by.
He rang the buzzer, waiting impatiently for her to respond, and then rang it again. After the third time, he began pressing all the buttons on the pad until someone buzzed him in. He jerked the steel door open and flew up the stairs two at a time.
He tried the knob, but it was locked. He knocked, gently at first but with growing force, repeating the pleas he had used at the house.
A dark head peeked out of the door behind him, glaring angrily. “Hey, my friend, could you not be shoutin’ so loud?” she asked, her voice a lilting West Indian accent. “You are scarin’ de children."
"I'm sorry, but look,” he crossed the hall to talk to her as she came out, “Have you seen Lindy here at all today?"
"Wot, da painter lady? I have not seen her taday. She was in for a bit on Sataday, but she's not been around since, I tink."
"It's really important that I talk to her.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her one of his business cards, trying to keep the tension and frustration out of his voice. “If you see her, could you do me a favor and call me at that number?"
She looked confused. “You want I should have her call you?"
He shook his head. “She's royally brassed off at me. Which is why I need to talk to her. Think you can help?"
She looked hesitant, but finally agreed. “Anyting just so's you stop frightenin’ my girls!"
"Thank you. I won't forget it!"
He stopped in the alley, uncertain of what to do next. They didn't have any special places aside from her studio and his hotel room. And he was pretty damn sure she wasn't there. Still...
He dialed the room number and let it ring until it went through to the answering service. At the prompt, he pushed zero and asked the operator to connect him to the front desk.
"Yes, Mr. Fitzwilliam, what can I do for you?"
"Did anyone come in to see me today? Maybe leave me a message?"
"There was one young lady who came to drop off your spare key. She said it had come to her in error."
"Dark haired girl? Petite, pretty?"
"Yes, sir. Is there a problem?"
"Not that you can help with. Thanks, mate."
Okay what next? He didn't know where her friends lived. What was the blonde's last name? Guthrie. Jade Guthrie.
Directory assistance didn't have a Jade Guthrie listed in any of the five boroughs, nor on Long Island.
He wanted to
howl in frustration and barely restrained himself from flinging the phone across the alley to shatter into a thousand satisfying pieces. Where else? Who else? He had to find her.
Wait.
Their guardian angel. Miss Kathleen Fallon, Esquire.
He wasn't surprised that she was listed. She probably had her name outlined in one of those sodding boxes in the directory. He pressed the button to be connected. It was answered after the third ring.
"This is Kathleen."
"Miss Fallon, this is Rogue Fitzwilliam. I'm not sure if you remember me..."
"Of course I do, Mr. Fitzwilliam. You're Lindy's honey. What can I do for you?"
"'M hoping you might have seen or heard from Lindy this afternoon."
"No, I'm sorry, I haven't. Why? Is something wrong?” She sounded genuinely concerned.
"I just need to talk to her and I can't find her."
The line was quiet for a moment before her voice came back to him, a little harder, a little colder.
"Funny, you not being able to find her. Seemed like you two were joined at the hips."
"Well..."
"And now you need to talk to her.” Sarcasm and fury now dripped from every word. “You went and did it, didn't you? After all my warnings, you still went and hurt her."
"Pet, if I can just talk to her..."
"Oh yes, because words always make the pain go away. Just leave her alone, Rogue."
"Kathleen, you have to help me!"
"No! What I have to do is look out for my friend. If she gets in touch with me, I'm going to give her the advice I should have given her two weeks ago and tell her to stay the hell away from you."
"But..."
"And Rogue, you'd better hope I never see you again. Because if I ever do, I will make you suffer in ways no living male wants to contemplate."
The dial tone buzzed in his ear, effectively cutting off all his attempts at persuasion.
The phone hit the far wall and smashed into dozens of pieces that scattered across the alley, glittering metallically in the cold November sunlight.
Chapter 37
Rogue's eyes were gritty as he hunched blindly over the columns of figures he needed to check before the final presentation to the Robartsmaan board of trustees on Thursday. He was tired, and he just didn't care about any of this right now.
What They Call Sin Page 26
