Boston Avant-Garde 6: Chiaroscuro

by Kaitlin Maitland

  Lars at least had the sense to look guilty. Owen was another story. For the span of two breaths, she thought he was going to cave. Sorrow lit his dark eyes before they shuttered completely. He could not have made things more clear had he physically shoved her away.

  How could she have been so wrong? Lars was just repeating history, but Owen had seemed so different! Her instincts had failed her this time. Hell, her soul had failed her. The same soul that was screaming inside her, wanting nothing more than to throw itself at their feet and beg them to at least try admitting they had feelings.

  Fortunately she had a little bit of pride.

  “Get the fuck out of my house!” Angry tears stung her eyes. “Both of you get out, and don’t come back!”

  She grabbed a pillow and gave a swing that was more frantic than accurate. Her pillow glanced off Lars’s shoulder. He didn’t even try to step away, though she knew he could have.

  “Mattie, I’m sorry.” He began backing toward her bedroom door. “Nothing has changed for me in the last five months.”

  “Nothing?” She screamed her frustration, willing him to understand how much he’d hurt her. “You have him! That’s what’s changed.”

  “No.”

  Owen’s quiet pronouncement took all the wind from her sails. The pillow fell from her lifeless fingers as she turned to stare at the man she’d known only a handful of hours. The one who’d rescued her, the one whose soul had felt as though it was a match for hers.

  Owen’s hard eyes were like shards of obsidian in his face. “Lars and I were done this morning. He knows it. So do I. He’ll go back to London in two weeks, and the three of us will move on with our lives.”

  Lars picked up the thread. “You’ll find someone else, Mattie. You’re too special not to. You’ll find a man who isn’t…damaged. One who can love you back with no strings attached. A guy who’ll give you a houseful of kids.”

  Owen’s brow knit briefly before he smoothed his face into an expressionless mask. Mattie was still trying to come to terms with what they were telling her. After sharing an experience that could not possibly have meant nothing—no matter what they wanted to believe—they planned to walk away?

  She couldn’t think anymore. Her heart hurt. Shoving her way past Lars into the hallway, she cast one look back over her shoulder. “Lock up on your way out. I’m done with this right now.”

  She shut herself in the bathroom and sank down to the cold linoleum floor. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she let the tears come. Sometimes that was the best way to make sense of something that was absolutely nonsensical.

  Chapter Seven

  Lars felt dead inside by the time he pulled his car beneath the portico of the Aasen Brookline estate. All he wanted was a shower, a set of clean clothes, and maybe a few hours of sleep. Then it would be time to return to the real world of Aasen International and his useless personal life.

  “Thank God!” Selena burst through the front door and stood on the top step with her hands on her hips. “Don’t you ever answer your damn phone?”

  He shut his car door and took the front stairs one at a time without answering. He didn’t have an answer. Initially he’d been stupid enough to think it would be easier to talk to her face-to-face. Especially since he was going to read her the riot act for sending him out to Mattie’s when she damn well knew Owen was already there.

  “Is she okay?” Selena demanded.

  He considered the question. “Depends on your definition of okay, I suppose.”

  “I swear to God, Lars…”

  He held up a hand to shut her down before she got going. “She’s perfectly healthy after her run-in with the goat-murdering art fiend. However, I don’t know how long it will take her to get over being mad that she and Owen had a one-night stand.”

  Selena’s mouth popped open in a wide O. “You didn’t!”

  “Don’t you play innocent, Selena Adriana whatever-the-hell-surname-you’re-using.” Lars gave her his most menacing glare. “You sent me out there knowing that Owen was with her. You knew what would happen. Had they met before yesterday, or did you just suspect they’d hit it off?”

  She didn’t look nearly as contrite as he wanted her to. “If you think about it logically, you and Mattie are a perfect match…and you and Owen are amazing together. So”—she had the audacity to look hopeful—“I was thinking the three of you might be even better.”

  He stepped around her slim form and headed inside, not even certain if he were angry or grateful for her arrogant decision to throw the three of them into the flames.

  “Wait, Lars!” She rushed after him. “You can’t leave me hanging like that. Did it work out?”

  He walked directly to the sweeping staircase leading to the east wing where he and his mother both had a suite of rooms. “Chemistry isn’t everything, Selena.”

  “So the three of you…” She wasn’t going to give up.

  He decided to be brutal. “Crashed and burned? Yeah, we did.”

  Selena stopped short in the hallway. “I don’t get it.”

  The handle of his bedroom door was cool to the touch. He wished it were possible to shut himself inside and forget everything. Unfortunately that wasn’t how his life worked. “I told you from the very beginning that I wasn’t the guy for Mattie. I’m not the marrying kind, the settling-down kind, or the long-term kind.” He pushed the door open, pausing to fling one last thought over his shoulder. “Apparently Owen isn’t either.”

  * * * *

  Owen parked Selena’s car beside Malachi’s motorcycle. Demon’s low-slung black car was missing. Hopefully that meant Selena was with him somewhere other than Triptych. Owen didn’t trust himself to be around her right now without giving in to the urge to wrap his hands around her neck and strangle her. Fortunately she was nowhere in sight when he entered the club. His footsteps echoed in the empty chamber as he crossed to the staircase. He needed to check in with his boss and apologize for being gone all night. Not that Malachi would need the update. Thanks to Selena’s nosiness, Owen couldn’t take a piss without the woman reporting on him.

  Malachi was in his office in the old choir loft. Owen soaked in the calming atmosphere created by the daylight cascading through the diamond-paned windows. A thick rug covered the floor, and bookcases lined the walls. Malachi was behind his desk, staring balefully at his computer. To Owen’s surprise, Demon was sitting in the worn leather chair at the opposite end of the room with a book in his hand.

  The Demon of Triptych had always made Owen uneasy. It wasn’t that Owen disliked the man who spent a good portion of his time observing the world through a curtain of black hair. It was that something in Demon’s character tweaked Owen’s radar. The guy was dangerous on every level. God help anyone who wound up on his bad side.

  “Did you get everything squared away?” Malachi didn’t look up from his laptop.

  “For now.” Owen thought about the menacing Mr. Hyde. The incident in Mattie’s booth on Artists’ Row seemed as though it had taken place an age ago. So much had happened since, but that didn’t change his initial thoughts about it. “Daniel Hyde wants something from her. I don’t know what, but I’m positive it’s not going to benefit her in any way.”

  Malachi glanced up, catching Demon’s eye before looking at Owen. “A guy named Jason came around last night looking for you.”

  Something heavy lodged in Owen’s gut. If good things happened in threes, bad things tended to happen in multiples of ten. “He leave a number?”

  “No. Said he’d rather come back tonight and talk to you in person.” Malachi’s slate-gray eyes were boring into him as if the man thought he could find the answers he wanted. “You got a problem we need to know about?”

  It wasn’t an idle question. Owen weighed the pros and cons of explaining his unwanted connection to a two-bit thug from Rhode Island. Jason wasn’t known for subtlety. So long as Owen kept his head down and stayed away from the Charlestown area, Jason usually forgot he had a yo
unger half brother. At least until he ran short on money and needed to stage a fight to make some quick cash. Then Owen was nothing more than a rooster or a pit bull waiting in the wings.

  Demon’s stare intensified. “I would rather know what’s coming than wait for it to sneak up on me and mine.”

  “Jason is my half brother,” Owen said. “Let’s just say there’s no love lost between us.”

  Malachi pursed his lips and slowly swung his chair from side to side. “What’s he into?”

  If Jason was contacting Owen, there was no telling what he was into these days. “I haven’t seen him in five years or more. Back then he was working for a couple of bookies. He handled collection and wasn’t afraid to strong-arm when necessary.”

  Malachi didn’t hesitate. “We’ve got your back, Owen. You know that.”

  “I appreciate that, boss.” Owen suppressed a sigh. He’d been right to end things with Lars and Mattie. This was proof he could never put his past behind him. Never. He’d have to handle this latest wrinkle later. For now had to try to keep what was left of his life from crumbling into pieces. “What’s on the schedule for today?”

  “There’s a liquor shipment coming in at noon; beer comes at one. We need to check the stock in all the bars and send back any beer past its born-on date.” Malachi’s grin was underscored by a soft snort from Demon indicating his thoughts on the possibility of discovering expired beer somewhere inside Triptych. Malachi shot his partner a grin. “It’s conceivable…in an alternate universe. Anyway, after that we need to prep the training room for a seminar.”

  If there was a time in Owen’s life when he’d been unaware of a world populated by people who would eagerly sign up for a BDSM training seminar, he couldn’t recall it. He rolled his eyes instead. “I’ll make sure the room is clean and ready to go. Are they coming through the back gate?”

  Now it was Malachi’s turn to snort with adolescent glee over the double entendre in Owen’s question. “Most definitely.”

  “It’s like being in high school all over again,” Owen muttered before turning to leave.

  * * * *

  Lars felt marginally better after a shower, which wasn’t really saying much. He was wrung out. He’d always stayed busy to keep ahead of the bleak reality that had dogged him since discovering the shiny future his mother wanted so desperately would always be just beyond his reach.

  He gazed at his reflection in the dressing-room mirror and tried to mash his unruly dark hair back down. It didn’t work. Selena called it “artfully tousled.” His mother called it “just rolled out of bed.” He called it aggravating. It didn’t matter anyway. Given a few hours, he’d be stabbing his fingers into the mess and trying unsuccessfully to rip it out.

  Brushing at the imaginary lint on his tailored navy jacket, he straightened his collar. Diamond cufflinks and his favorite watch completed the look of a useless playboy. It wasn’t just an image. It was armor.

  He left his suite and followed the sounds of conversation to the morning room at the back of the house. One set of the three French doors on the back wall was thrown open to take advantage of the unseasonably warm fall day. The antique furnishings were arranged to encourage conversation, and the coffered ceilings added an airy feel to the space.

  “Lars!” His mother waved him over to the divan. “Come and see your new cousin.”

  Great, just effing perfect. Turn the knife in the wound, why don’t you?

  The room was filled with his family. Lars had conveniently forgotten that Erik and Talia would be stopping by before returning to New York with their now five-month-old son Gabriel. Lars had made it just in time to join the party.

  “Come and hold the baby, Lars.” Selena was offering the little guy a pacifier while cuddling him to her chest.

  Lars gingerly sat on the chaise next to Selena. He didn’t want to hold the baby. He didn’t want anything to do with it. Putting his hands on his thighs, he gripped hard enough to crease his slacks.

  Erik leaned back in his seat and put an arm around his wife. “You look dressed for the office.”

  Lars was glad for the safe topic. “Figured I would go in and finish up the proposal for that new contract so you didn’t have to deal with it your first week back.”

  “Appreciated,” Erik murmured. His gaze flickered toward his son. “It’ll be hard to settle back into the office, but I think Talia will be glad to get me out from underfoot for a few hours every day.”

  She swatted him gently. “It’s not like that, and you know it.”

  Lars’s mother snatched the baby from Selena’s arms and hoisted Gabe onto her shoulder. She hummed while she rocked back and forth with the little boy settled comfortably over her shoulder. There was no masking the desperate longing for grandbabies of her own. His lungs seized, and it felt as if he were being flayed alive.

  His aunt Annaline entered the room with a bottle. “Here, Caroline. Would you like to feed him?”

  Caroline took the offered bottle and swept the baby off her shoulder. “Lars, when are you going to settle down and give me one of these to love? Annaline has one grandchild, and I have none at all. She has two married children, so I’ll never have a prayer of catching up in that regard, but you could help me with this if you ever took the notion.”

  Lars felt Selena tighten up beside him, and he realized his mother had snubbed her yet again. This time it was probably unintentional.

  “Actually,” Annaline inserted. “Gabriel is my second grandchild, though he is the first boy. Selena’s daughter, Alisa, is my first.”

  Desiree shared a smile with Selena. “And God knows Mama and Allie share every characteristic but the blood tie. That girl should’ve been born an Aasen.”

  Caroline made a harrumphing noise and didn’t spare Annaline or Selena a glance when she settled down to bottle-feed the baby. Lars wished his mother could accept Selena’s choice. Unfortunately, his mother wasn’t wired that way. She never had been.

  Selena stood up. “That reminds me. I should call and remind Malachi to pick up Allie at school.”

  Lars watched his cousin leave the room. There was no way Malachi would ever forget Allie at school, and they all knew it. Selena just needed a moment away from Lars’s mother.

  Caroline smiled softly at the little boy in her arms. “I think you should plan something special for Isabel, Lars. Maybe flowers or jewelry would remind her why she fell in love with you the first time.”

  Erik cocked his head to one side. “You’re escorting Isabel Adams-Channing to the reception this Friday night?”

  The disbelief in his cousin’s tone mirrored the feeling in Lars’s gut. “Mother arranged it so it would have been impossible to refuse.”

  Caroline cooed at Gabe, pitching her words like baby talk and making the little boy smile. “My son isn’t going to find the perfect woman and settle down without some help. Isn’t that right, precious one?”

  Lars decided Selena had the right idea. He got up to leave the room.

  His mother frowned. “Where are you going?”

  “To check on Selena.” Lars wished his mother weren’t so overbearing. He did love her, but sometimes she forgot that he was a grown man capable of making his own choices.

  Or screwing up my own life. Whichever works.

  He found Selena in the study, gazing out the French doors at the spectacular view of the sweeping lawn. The masculine room always reminded him of his uncle. Nothing had changed since the man’s death. There was a big mahogany desk, dark wood paneling, and built-in bookshelves. Even the knickknacks were still the same.

  Lars nudged her with his shoulder. “I can tell you from experience that she really doesn’t understand how rude her behavior is.”

  Selena’s lashes were damp with tears. He hated that his mother’s insensitivity had caused so much hurt. Selena had come such a long way in a short time—from spoiled brat to dance teacher and stepmom. He remembered when she’d been so wrapped up in her image she couldn’t see past
the designer labels to what lay beneath. Now she wore the barest hint of makeup, comfortable jeans, and a simple blouse to go with her fresh outlook.

  He put his arm around her shoulders and was gratified to feel her hug him back. He kissed her forehead. “My mother is just jealous of yours.”

  “Why?”

  Lars felt a sudden urge to tell her everything. It would be such a relief to let it all out. He’d carried the secrets for so long, and after the raw pain of severing his ties to Mattie and Owen, he needed to vent.

  Lars gazed down into her intense green eyes and remembered the tiny girl in the frothy pink dress who’d been his comrade-in-arms every summer. “My mother always wanted more children but never managed to carry any to term. Here Annaline is with a successful heir to Aasen International and two daughters, both talented and happily married. Now your brother has popped out the next heir to the throne, and I haven’t even managed to settle down and marry.”

  “Why is that?” Her expression grew speculative. “You and Isabel almost got married, but then you broke it off when your dad got sick.”

  “Got sick” was a pretty mild way to describe his father’s late discovery of his prostate cancer and the subsequent year of hell as he slowly succumbed to the disease. Although it did segue nicely into the next part of his story.

  “I might have gotten married.” Lars had always wondered about that. “I was only twenty-two. I was young and idealistic, I suppose, but I don’t know that I would’ve gone through with it. I’m glad now that I didn’t.”

  “Why is that?”

  He swallowed only to discover his mouth was as dry as cotton. “Because I wasn’t the one who broke it off. Isabel didn’t stick around when I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. To me that doesn’t say much for the staying power of our relationship.”

  “Lars, oh my God! How”—she was clutching his arm in a death grip—“How did we never know? How did I never know?”

  He could remember the moment in the doctor’s office with crystal clarity. He suspected it worked the same way for anyone else who received that sort of news. “My dad was suffering, and Mother suffered right along with him. I was trying to pick up the slack around the office, but I started having major pain.”