Invincible (Elite Doms of Washington Book 6)

by Elizabeth SaFleur

  “You both have got the past so shoved up your asses, you can’t see each other anymore. Stop looking for the old Alexander. He’s gone like Charles is. Start loving the one that’s standing right in front of you.”

  “You’re standing in front of me.”

  “Only because that man is too proud to come for you. I have never known Alexander to chase after anyone. It won’t happen if that’s what you’re waiting for, but if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to Washington, I will do it.”

  She looked at him aghast. “Wow—you’re like, really in love with him.”

  “There are no words big enough for what I feel for that man. You know what I do for a living. I take rich people’s things and get rid of them. I see more privilege, callowness, jealousy and hate than anyone should see in a lifetime. I have seen the worst of humanity. Alexander could be one of them. But he’s not. He’s not because he chooses not to be. Instead he’s—” Emotion choked his throat closed.

  “Magic?”

  He swallowed. “Yes.” He closed the distance between them. “And, you’re afraid to need him.”

  “You might be right there.” Her eyes were wide and watery and still beautiful as ever.

  He chuffed. “Maybe, for once, someone he loves should chase him—and that someone should be you. And, if you don’t, then I was right. You don’t deserve him.”

  A choked gurgle came out of her throat, and she knelt over her own lap, face in her hands. Her shoulders shook for long seconds. Oh, fuck him. He sighed and eased himself up to sit next to her. He put his arm over her shaking shoulders, and she lifted her head.

  “I have no idea how to be with him. None. And I know one day it will be too much. I won’t ask him to change for me. I thought it would be better to go now.”

  He waved his arm. “To a park forty miles away?”

  She sucked in a wet breath and her cheeks inched up in a tentative smile. She shrugged.

  “I’m going to ask you a very simple question.” He brushed hair back over her shoulder. “What are the odds you’ll regret not trying again with him?”

  She swallowed hard. “Wow. You’re good at this.”

  “Didn’t you hear? I’m a genius.” His face sobered. “Tell you what. I’ll answer. You’d regret leaving him for the rest of your life.”

  “I already do.”

  “Then stop being a putz.”

  A laugh burst from her throat. “A putz?” She swiped at her cheeks.

  “I can come up with something worse, if you need it.” He pulled her closer into him. “Stop trying to recreate the past and just start over. But do it with him. Just … try.”

  She stared hard at him for a long second. He held his breath as he watched all the reasons for her just to give in or run farther away crossed her face en masse.

  “Okay,” she said. “I have a rental car to return. Give me a lift to Washington. I mean, you’ll go with me, right?”

  Thank you, God. “Need an entourage?”

  “I think I might need a navigator since I seem to get lost a lot.”

  He grasped the handles of the duffel bag. “I’ve got this.”

  And he did, right up until he crossed the threshold and saw Alexander’s eyes light up with all the love in the world … for Rebecca.

  47

  Alexander rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. His hand possessively gripped Rebecca’s, needing to have at least one part of him touching her at all times. He’d spent half the night buried inside her. They’d not spoken more than six words to each other all night, instead, they unleashed all the desperation they’d harbored and let their bodies talk to one another, as if they needed to feel the corporeal being first to make sure they weren’t hallucinating each other’s presence.

  Rebecca snuggled closer, and he lifted his arm so she could settle into his shoulder. “Thank you for coming back.”

  “It was inevitable.”

  He laughed. “Oh?” It sure as hell hadn’t felt that way to him.

  “I’m not sure I could have stayed away for much longer. You’re my kryptonite, drug, and lifeline.”

  “Is that why you stayed away for forty years?” He made sure no anger or upset colored his voice.

  “Yes.” She pulled up to her elbow. “I thought I was doing you a favor. Let you have your life. Make sure no one hurt you.”

  “I know, mo rúnsearc.” He eased up and touched the moonstone necklace around her neck.

  “Do you? Because it’s the truth.” Her fingers covered his. “I’ll never take it off again.”

  “I know.” He dropped his hand. “I should have tried harder to find you. This whole time I thought I’d been trying to best the Wynter family when really I think I was trying to be good enough for you—to have you want me again.” That truth had bubbled up sometime in the night and was a bitter pill. Time to cough it up.

  “You were always good enough. I hate that the Wynters made us both feel like we weren’t.”

  “I told Eric not to go looking for you. No one should be here or be with me if they don’t want to be, but I’m glad he did.”

  “He’s another great man.”

  Alexander murmured an acknowledgment. “Where is Eric, anyway?”

  “I think he wanted to give us space. Time to talk.”

  Alexander’s lips twitched up. “We’ve not done a lot of that.”

  “True.” She smiled. “But I need to. I mean, that is if it’s okay?”

  He turned his face to her, the pillowcase catching some of his hair, making it askew and adorable if one could ever consider someone with the presence of Alexander Rockingham adorable. “Of course. Always. Talking is mandatory.”

  “I don’t know how to fit in here.” Eight words that summed up everything, but to date had been hard to say. Why? Why had she waited to voice that she’d been overwhelmed? She hadn’t wanted to disappoint him, that’s why. Sarah had been right.

  He sat up as if waiting for a shoe to drop, and now that she thought about it, those words had been tinged with cynicism.

  “I love you, and I’m not going to leave you,” she added quickly.

  “I’d never force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” The intensity in his voice made her sit up and join him against the headboard.

  “I know that.”

  “The limo ride. I scared you.”

  “No. I love it when you take command, dominate, control our sexual dynamic. Honestly, the things we do together when it’s just us are … magic. It’s everything else. This huge estate. The parties. The one hundred and fourteen people. The jet. The wardrobe consultant. The haute couture.” She ran her hands down the pure silk camisole she didn’t recall putting on last night. “I missed just talking to you. It seemed you were always working.”

  “Perhaps I’ve been in my own world for too long.”

  “And I’ve been everywhere else for too long.”

  He smiled at her. “How about this? Less haute couture. More of me.”

  “And, you and Eric.” She bumped up against his arm. “I like the three of us together.”

  “Three.” He repeated the word. “Yes. Eric. You like him.”

  “I think I love him. Don’t get me wrong. Nothing will dim what I feel for you, but it hit me as he was bringing me back. He’s selfless. He loves you so much, he brought me back to you without hesitation. Who does that?”

  Alexander just nodded.

  “It feels weird in here, doesn’t it? Without Eric?” Rebecca glanced around.

  “It does.” Alexander eased himself from the bed. “Care to go get some breakfast? Just the two of us? Or three, if we can find him.” His gaze caught something on the floor. He strode over and picked up a folded piece of paper, pushed under the door at some point in the night.

  Sorry to reunite and dash, but the Marietta estate needs me. I need to get back to London. What can I say? I’m a genius.

  Hang on to each other, okay? You being together remind
s me there is magic in the world.

  Yours always, Eric

  P.S. Sorry I didn’t hide this behind a painting.

  He’d left? Alexander scrubbed his chin. He was really starting to hate notes.

  “What is it?” Rebecca hopped from the bed and took his side. She lifted on tiptoes and peered down at the writing. She pointed at the simple drawing at the bottom. “Is that a—”

  “Bird.” He lowered the note. “Eric’s left.”

  “But why?” She grasped the paper and yanked it closer to her face. “I’m not loving this sign.” She moved quickly to the closet in the corner room. She swung open the doors. She turned to Alexander. “He’s really left.” She swept her arm over the space where he’d hung his few things.

  “Because that’s what he does. He helps people settle their affairs, and moves on.”

  She still clutched the note in her hand. She swallowed. “Who settles his?”

  A long minute passed as if neither wanted to speak the obvious truth. He had been callous with the man, taking what he offered and believing the little he returned would be enough for Eric. He always figured Eric would be fine. He’d seemed fine—even loving an arrangement that had no strings, no commitments.

  “We’re good together, just the two of us,” she said. “But … ”

  “Better when it’s three? You may be right there. He is rather good at gluing us together.”

  She grew excited. “Then, let’s go get him. You’re the master of the universe, right? Unleash your … minions to find him.”

  He laughed heartily. “Your wish is my command.” He could do that because the truth was, he’d missed the guy. How hard could it be to find him? Not hard at all.

  48

  Alexander slapped the table. “I bring this meeting of the Tribunal to order. The Grand Arbiter has the floor.” He cleared his throat. “Eric Morrison is missing. I can’t find him.” Eric was as good at disappearing as Rebecca had been. Nearly two weeks had gone by and not a single estate sale had his name on it.

  No one said a word. Jonathan, Carson, Mark, Derek, and Sarah—none of them appeared concerned, which irritated.

  “Alexander, what would you like us to do?” Leave it to Jonathan to ask the right question.

  “Find him. Call in every marker I have.”

  That one got their attention. Eric’s absence had grown like a toothache, leaving a gaping hole he had not been prepared for.

  “He have family?” Jonathan asked.

  “None that I know of.” Why didn’t he know that?

  “Rebecca?”

  “Hasn’t heard from him either. Texts, calls, go unanswered. His office simply said he told them he was going on vacation. Someplace off the grid.” Misplaced anger filled him. He scrubbed his growing beard. He was merely frustrated because finding people was generally easy. Digital footprints coupled with a small art world meant finding Eric Morrison shouldn’t be that fucking hard.

  “His work doesn’t know where?” Ryan asked. “Not like Eric. I mean, to abandon things in mid-auction.”

  “Why not? Nearly everything is going up for private sale, correct?” Sarah cocked her head. “I mean, he’d done his job. Gotten inventory to the next step and now—”

  She stopped when Alexander’s hands fell to the table in two tight fists. He was so done with people running from him. No number of private investigators—even Stan Tocatto who could find a coconut floating in the ocean—had been able to ferret out anything. Eric had landed in London, and the last time anyone had seen him, he’d been getting into a taxi at Heathrow Airport. Shit. That city had more cameras per square foot than a movie set and still nothing.

  Carson tapped his pen back and forth between two fingers. “Sounds like he doesn’t want to be found.”

  Could that be right?

  “Find him anyway.” Alexander straightened. “Use every marker this Council has amassed. Every one until he’s found.”

  Glances darted around the room as if the Council members didn’t believe what they’d heard.

  Carson rose first. “Consider it done. We won’t need to cash them all in. No need to spend a million chits when only a few might be necessary.”

  “But do it if necessary.”

  Carson went still, his eyes assessing. He didn’t believe him? Finally, Carson lifted his chin. “Understood.” He turned to Ryan. “You still have the list of the Wynter estate items that are at each auction house?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll call them.” Carson leveled his gaze at Alexander. “I’ll tell them Alexander’s attorney is calling with some discrepancies. That should rattle a few cages — enough for the directors to put out feelers. It’ll make its way to Eric. As you’ve said, the art world is small, and he won’t want his reputation dinged.”

  Smart, but cruel. “No, don’t do that.” Another idea formed. “I believe the Danube Brothers in Boston have the Klimt paintings. Call them. Tell them I’m taking the sale public. No more private sale. I want to be there when they go up for auction—and publicize that fact. Put my name up as seller.” To date, he’d been anonymous. If Eric wanted to see him, he might show. If not, then Alexander knew they’d lost him for good.

  “And there’s one other thing you all need to know before we adjourn,” Alexander said. “I’m retiring as Grand Arbiter.”

  All six bodies around the table sat back in their chairs. Shock registered in various forms around the room. Sarah’s face flickered the least surprise, as they’d had this conversation in the past—how she should be the one to take over since Ryan declined the role years ago. Derek showed the most with his slumped shoulders and wrinkled forehead. He had been the man closest to him as a son though they shared no blood. The thought he hadn’t even been granted the courtesy to mourn the biological son he’d lost so long ago ran circles in his brain. He’d never been as pissed at himself as he was right now. Leaving Rebecca to the tender mercies of the Wynters and then raging at her for not telling him? Yeah, not his smartest play. She’d been trying to protect him. It was so ass backward. He should have played that role for her. She might forgive him—someday—but he’d never forgive himself for his prideful actions, or lack of action.

  This retirement move was right.

  In the last few years, Alexander hadn’t participated much in the world outside of Accendos. It was time to end that behavior. He’d gotten too insular while trying to keep everything out and everyone he loved in.

  Time to change it up, starting with finding a man who’d crept in unnoticed and become necessary to him, a man he hadn’t realized he’d miss so much.

  49

  Snow flurries danced around Alexander’s coat as he took the two steps into the Danube Brothers gallery in one leap, not giving the old brownstone façade on Chestnut Street a single glance. He blew hot breath on his hands as soon as he was through the door.

  “Mr. Rockingham.” A balding man scurried forward, hand extended. “You made it. Come in, come in. I apologize for the snow.” He waved his hand toward the long glass panes framing the door. “You know, Boston. Are you sure you don’t want to postpone—”

  “No.”

  The man stopped his vigorous handshaking of Alexander’s hands in shock at his bark.

  Alexander inclined his head. “It’s important to me that we do this before Christmas.”

  “Whatever you wish.” The man’s face stretched into a smile. “We may not have as many visitors—” he lowered his voice to a whisper “—but I made some calls.”

  “I appreciate it. You let the regulars know about the Klimt?” Alexander shrugged off his coat and handed it to a waiting attendant.

  “Of course. And I fielded a few interested parties who heard about the sale. You know how the art world is. Things get around. Wine? Or perhaps something stronger?” The man swept his arm toward a young woman holding a tray of champagne flutes and wine glasses filled to the brim.

  Alexander raised his hand in a ‘no.’ “Thank
you, but I’m going to take a look around.” He was already scanning the area for any sign of blond hair, hands stuffed in pockets like Eric always did. Just a few couples milled about looking as bored as he’d expected.

  Alexander took a few minutes to nod politely as he passed them, predictable whispers beginning. He rarely showed up to these auctions anymore. Collecting things had lost their appeal long ago.

  It took less than ten minutes to walk the entire perimeter of the three-room gallery. He paused before a sculpture, a young boy holding a book, his hand on a puppy peering up at him. It would look nice in his gardens. Hopeful and sunny and bright and all the things he didn’t feel at this moment.

  He turned the corner and came face to face with the Klimt, a portrait of a woman with her hand cocked on her hip as if she hadn’t a care in the world. A couple stood before it, hands linked, gazing up at it. The woman turned her face to her male companion. “Buy it for me?”

  The man inclined his head down to the small white square with SOLD tacked on to the etched plate under it. “Seems someone else got here first.”

  Alexander could only hope whoever did appreciated the piece and didn’t store it away in some crate in a warehouse.

  “Was it you?” she bumped against him playfully. He dropped his grip on her hand and circled his arm around her. “I’ll buy you one. Someday.”

  She set her head against his shoulder. “I know you will.”

  Such trust was reserved for the young. He didn’t know why, but he sent up a little prayer that everything would work out for this unknown couple.

  He should go. The gallery was small, and he’d circled the three rooms twice. Eric wasn’t coming. He’d promised Rebecca a dinner at Amelie’s that had a small table before a fireplace reserved just for him. Three people would fit nicely there—if there had been three.

  Tonight, there would just be two.

  It would be enough. He had Rebecca, and his blessings could circle the earth ten times. Like a cat who landed on both feet, Eric would be fine without Alexander Rockingham. “But you won’t be fine without him,” a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. Regrets—all the things that could have been, all the things he should have done for the man—would live inside him forever.