"The masquerade is this evening, is it not?" he asked in a low voice.
"Yes, it's the hundred and twentieth anniversary, as it says on the banner in the lobby." Hannah leaned against the wall opposite him.
"Impossible," he muttered more to himself than her it seemed as he ran his hand through his hair. "What year is it?"
"Two thousand sixteen." Hannah prayed for the elevator to hurry. This man must be on something. Why would someone even ask that?
He reached over and pushed the emergency stop button. The carriage shuddered as it came to a stop between floors three and two.
A touch of dread settled deep in Hannah's chest. She had nowhere to go, trapped in the elevator with a man who was obviously delusional or high.
"Sir, if you'll let me..."
He spun on her, his face etched with determination. "I shall ask you only once more. What is the full date?"
Hannah struggled to find her voice. The words tumbled from her lips; her voice trembled. "November second, two thousand sixteen."
He nodded once and leaned his hand against the wall.
Even though fear and uncertainty mingled with adrenaline coursed through her, Hannah found herself wanting to help the handsome, confused stranger.
"Sir, I'm not sure how I can help you."
He scoffed and shook his head. When he pulled a silver cigarette case from his pocket, she sighed.
"You cannot smoke in here." His hand hovered over the open case. "But I can take you somewhere you can."
She pushed the resume button and then pushed floor two.
The man said nothing as the elevator stopped. She led him down a hallway balcony overlooking the lobby. A wide set of doors lay at the end of the hall. She pushed open the door and the chill of the November evening bit into her bare arms.
A large veranda stretched before them. The flowerpots looked barren since the frost had stolen the last green of the year.
He wasted little time pulling out a cigarette and lit it as he wandered toward the railing overlooking Third Avenue. The scent of the tobacco lingered in his wake.
Hannah turned and glanced at the hotel towering behind her. The old brick and stone stood tall against the sky. The setting sun glinted off the windows, making them sparkle like gems in the twilight. Her heart twisted with a familiar warmth. She loved this hotel.
"Hannah."
She spun at the sound of her name. His voice and proximity startled her. He stood directly behind her, staring up at the building, just as she had been. His expression softened as he stared at the hotel. A flicker of recognition nagged at her. She'd seen him before, somewhere, but her memory failed her. Andrew might know. He knew everyone.
"Might I ask a favor, Hannah?" His polished tone made her heart beat a bit faster. Gone was the contempt, replaced now with a refined grace.
This man could be dangerous, she warned herself. "Of course, whatever I can do to help." Hannah eyed him as they returned to the warmth of the hotel.
He stepped forward and opened the door. His manners suddenly took on those of a true gentleman. She eyed him warily. What kind of games was he playing? She wondered if he had been hired to put on a show. Or to mess with her. If the latter, she'd kick their asses.
"Did Jack hire you? Andrew?" She spun on him and jabbed a finger against his chest. "If they hired you to fuck with me, then you can just quit the whole act right now. I take my job seriously."
He cocked his head, looking amused by her outburst. "I'm afraid I have no knowledge of such a transaction. But I assure you, Hannah, I have not been summoned here of my own free will."
"You were forced to come here?" she asked, even more confused.
"In a manner of speaking, yes." He tucked his hands into his pockets.
"Do you know who forced you to come here?" Hannah couldn't imagine anyone forcing this man to do anything he didn't want to do. Kidnapping was certainly out of the question, but maybe someone bribed him. Blackmail was always an option as well. Her mind spun with possibilities. She missed his reply.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" She focused on his face.
"I believe it was you, Hannah."
Hannah stared at him. What did he just say? She shook her head and laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation. "You think I forced you to come here?"
Her laughter echoed through the hallway. She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from disturbing the guests or making a spectacle of herself. Her sides hurt, and it took several moments to find her composure.
When she finally regained some control, Hannah glanced up at him. He stood with his arms crossed, his green eyes seemingly boring a hole directly into her soul.
"You can't be serious. I had nothing to do with whatever mess you find yourself in now." She pointed to herself. "I mean look at me. I'm a maid, for God's sake. I can't even get my own life in order, let alone force someone to do something against their will."
"There is no one else it could have been." He scowled. "I'm certain this whole disaster is your doing."
"Mine?" She shelved her hands on her hips. "Please enlighten me. I don't even know who you are!"
"You don't know who I am?" His expression went stone serious.
"Not a fucking clue, man." Hannah grew sick of his games. His insistence that she had something to do with his appearance at the hotel irritated her.
"Then allow me to illuminate the situation in which we find ourselves." He bowed to her, the way a Victorian gentleman would a lady.
She eyed him warily, wishing she had a can of mace to spray him with if he tried anything shady.
"My name is Lucian Lachlan, and this is my hotel."
Oh my sweet merciful God. Hannah pressed her hand to her chest and backed away from him. "You must think I'm a total sucker to fall for that shit. Who put you up to this? Was it Andrew? I mean you wouldn't think a sweet old man would do something like this. Especially to this extreme." She studied his stoic expression. "Oh my God. You actually believe you're Lucian Lachlan."
Hannah reached for her radio. Keeping the psycho in her sights, she held the radio up to her mouth. "Andrew, are you there? It's Hannah."
"Yes, Hannah. What can I do for you?" Andrew's voice gave her a boost of confidence.
"Would you mind coming up to the second floor? I'm near the door to the veranda. I need to show you something."
"I'm on my way."
"You don't believe me?" the man asked. He stood firm with his arms folded across his chest, watching her with those unreadable, intense eyes.
"You're asking if I believe that you're the founder of this hotel. A man who lived a hundred odd years ago?" Hannah shook her head. "No, I don't. I think Andrew put you up to this."
"Did I hear you say my name?" Andrew asked from behind her.
Hannah spun around to face him. She couldn't help but smile at the kind old man who made life both interesting and educational. He returned the smile and glanced over her shoulder at the man standing with her.
The blood drained from Andrew's face and he swayed.
Hannah reached out to grab his arm before he fainted, but the man who claimed to be Lucian rushed to Andrew's side and led him to a chair nearby. She watched in shock as he aided the older gentleman.
Andrew's eyes drifted closed as he took a few deep breaths. When he opened them, he gazed directly at the man who'd helped him.
"You're not a ghost." Andrew reached out and grasped Lucian's hand. "You're really here."
"Do I know you?" Lucian asked. He seemed genuinely confused by Andrew's reaction. More so than Hannah.
"Not yet. No." Andrew released the man's hand and settled back in his chair. He turned his gaze to Hannah. "Is he the reason you called me?"
"I thought, after your comment when I was in the Founder's suite, that you'd hired someone to pretend to be Lucian Lachlan and..." Hannah bit her lip before continuing. "Well now it all sounds ridiculous."
Andrew smiled at her. "There have been many people who've seen L
ucian over the years. Well, a ghostlike apparition, nothing this...well...real."
"So you don't know anything about this?" She motioned to Lucian who stood beside her.
He cleared his throat but said nothing.
Andrew shook his head. "No, but if he is truly Lucian Lachlan..." The older man's voice trailed off to let the implication of his words sink in.
Hannah turned to Lucian. "What's the last thing you remember? Before you saw me in the Founder's suite."
"I was standing in my private apartment in the hotel near the fireplace. My manservant had just stepped out to fetch me a glass of scotch." He ran his hand across his jaw. "I lit a cigarette. When I turned around, I saw you on your backside shrouded in wood smoke." He smiled at her.
And it damn near made her melt into a puddle at his feet. Damn him. Damn those eyes. And double damn that snarky ass grin on his face. It took all of her effort not to hit him. Or kiss him. Hannah felt her face heat and turned back to Andrew.
"What are we going to do with him?" she asked.
"Are you done for the day?" Andrew scratched his bearded chin.
"Yes."
"Then I think it's best if he stays with you until after the masquerade. Then we'll be able to figure out exactly what happened tonight." Andrew's gaze flickered between Hannah and Lucian.
"Stay with me?" Hannah nearly shrieked. She glanced around and then turned her attention back to Andrew. "He cannot stay with me. I'm not even going to the masquerade!"
"Well then just take him with you wherever you're going." Andrew smiled.
Hannah frowned. "I am not taking him home with me. He's..." She glared at Lucian. "No, just no."
"Then take him to the masquerade." Andrew's smile widened into a full-blown grin.
"I don't have a costume," Hannah said through gritted teeth.
"I'm sure I can find something lying around." The older man rose to his feet. "I'll call your cell in an hour."
"And what in the hell am I supposed to do until then?" Hannah snapped.
"Why don't you take our guest and show him the hotel?"
She glared at Andrew and turned to their guest.
Lucian seemed amused by the banter between her and Andrew. "Nothing would delight me more than to see how my hotel has withstood the passage of time."
"I hate you both right now." Hannah jabbed her finger at both of them and then spun on her heel to storm off.
"Enjoy your stay, Mr. Lachlan," Andrew said to Lucian as she walked away.
Before she could reach the end of the hall, Lucian was by her side. His hand came to rest on her arm. She jerked it from his grip and spun on him. "Let's get one thing straight, hot shot. I'm not your servant or your guide. Nor am I your babysitter or your mother."
"You look nothing like my mother, and what is a babysitter? That sounds like a crime."
Hannah rolled her eyes in exasperation. "It doesn't matter. I'm not taking responsibility for you."
"No one asked you to do such a thing. I believe I can take care of myself." He smirked.
"Let's say for argument's sake that I buy into your time traveling bullshit story, and by some random act of fate, you are truly Lucian Lachlan." She took a deep breath. "Not only would that be insane and impossible, but showing you the hotel could probably have some Marty McFly erased from time consequences or some screwed up shit."
"I do not understand." He furrowed his brow.
Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course. There's a hundred and twenty year gap between us. This is going to be a blast."
"Half the words you use confound me." His eyes sparkled. "And the ones I do understand are quite vulgar for a lady."
"I'm not apologizing for my foul language hurting your delicate sensibilities."
Lucian leaned closer. His heat and scent ensnared her before she could back away. "I never said I didn't like it. Quite the opposite. It's rather...refreshing."
His breath across her cheek when he spoke the last word made her skin tingle. When he pulled away, she felt a stab of loss and disappointment. Did she really want this guy making a move on her?
Yes.
Fucking hell yes.
The only problem was, he truly believed he was the Lucian Lachlan. And in no universe was that even remotely possible. Time travel did not exist. Lucian Lachlan had been dead for over half a century. This man had to be an actor or an impostor or a fucking lunatic. There could not be any other possible explanation.
"Shall we?" He offered his arm. The glint of mischief in his eyes and the barest twist of a smile on his lips broke her hesitation about accepting his invitation.
Hannah sighed and hooked her arm through his.
He looked down and shook his head. Quickly he readjusted its position to rest lightly on his forearm.
"Are you always this irritating?" Hannah asked as they walked toward the staircase leading down to the lobby.
"You dislike my manners?" He glanced at the photographs on the wall as they passed. Many of them were old black and white photographs taken in the twentieth century, the gap of a hundred years between them and their connection to the hotel.
"It's not your manners," Hannah grumbled. She hated this. Personally, she'd rather be home reading a book than escorting a nutcase around the hotel. The fact that his looks rivaled the hotness factor of the entire cast of The Avengers didn't matter. Ever since she found him in the Founder's Suite, her day felt like a lucid, alcohol induced dream.
He stopped, pulling her to a halt beside him. "Still doubtful of my true identity?"
"I doubt anything will make me believe you're Lucian Lachlan." Hannah tried to continue walking, but he held her steady.
That's when she spotted the picture beside him.
A photograph from the first anniversary masquerade of the Grand Lachlan Hotel in 1896. A man stood before the marble fireplace in the Founder's Suite, leaning against the mantle. His eyes burned into the camera as if fixated on the photographer.
Hannah's gaze moved back and forth between the man in the photograph and the man standing beside her. They wore the same style suit, the same haircut, and the same intense gaze. She read the plaque below the photograph. Lucian Lachlan, Founder and Architect of the Grand Lachlan Hotel, November 2, 1896.
"No," Hannah mumbled as she shook her head in denial. "This can't be." She pulled her hand from his grip and backed away. "You can't be him."
A hundred thousand thoughts flew through her mind, swirling together like a massive chaotic hurricane.
"Time travel isn't possible." She stumbled away from him and moved toward the alcove near the stairwell. "It's not possible."
"Hannah," his voice echoed behind her.
She ignored him and made her way down the stairs. Once she reached the lobby, she made a beeline for the employee's locker room to gather her things. She couldn't stay here. This was too much. Someone had put way too much effort into this prank. But she'd worked nearly ten hours, and it was time to go the hell home and drown in a bottle of wine.
When she reached her locker, she jerked it open so hard her purse dislodged from the hook. Her wallet, keys, lipstick, and other various items scattered across the room as her purse hit the floor.
"Goddamn it! You motherfucker." The tears threatened to fall. Hannah swiped angrily at them.
"Have I upset you?" Lucian asked from the doorway.
Hannah groaned. She should have known he'd follow her. "What do you want?"
His silence caused her to turn and face him. He stood leaning against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. Damn it, why did he have to be so goddamn attractive?
"I wish to attend the masquerade."
"Then go. No one's stopping you." Hannah dropped to her knees to pick up the contents of her spilled purse.
He cocked his head. "You will attend as well."
Hannah's control snapped. "Look, pal, I don't care if you really are Lucian Lachlan. You could be the bloody Prince of England for all I care. I'm not goin
g. You can't just waltz in here and demand that I take you to an event you couldn't pay me enough money to attend on my best day."
She put the last item in her purse and stood. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Lucian Lachlan!
He stalked across the room. Determined strides marked his intent.
Hannah's breath caught in her throat as he stopped beside her.
Lucian leaned close, his breath brushing against her ear, making her insides melt into pudding. "Do you not find it strange that you happened to be the first person I encountered in this time?"
He didn't touch her, but it felt as though his body heat wrapped around her like tendrils of smoke, pulling her deeper into the mist.
"Tell me, sweet Hannah, can you deny the curiosity burning in the pit of your stomach?"
"Curiosity about what?" Hannah barely trusted her own voice, but the question fell from her lips without hesitation.
"Come now, my dear. Fate is no fool. There must be a reason for all of this." He reached up and pulled the clip from her hair, releasing the dark waves.
She sighed at the release of pressure and the sudden freedom. "That's a line if I ever heard one." Hannah pushed her hand against his chest to force him to back up.
He seemed a bit surprised by her response.
"Look. I'll take you to the masquerade, but I'm not falling for your shit. You might be able to sweet talk some other woman into your bed tonight, honey, but it won't be me falling for your corny lines."
Lucian thrust his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "As you wish."
"Did you even understand a word that came out of my mouth?" Hannah asked, irritated.
"It is your desire that I curb my attentions toward you. You have made it abundantly clear that you do not wish to share my bed." He grinned. "I believe I can decipher your language better than you believe me capable."
Before she could reply, Hannah heard her phone ringtone. She pulled it from her apron, thankful for the interruption.
Andrew's name lit up the screen.
"Hello." She noticed the confusion on Lucian's face as she spoke into her cell phone.
"Hey, Hannah. Room 206 is blocked. You can use it to change and get ready for the masquerade. I've already had them put your gown and other things in there."
Under the Mask: A Multi-Genre Collection Page 18
