I smile back. "That makes two of us." He laughs as I head for the door out of habit, but Lincoln says, "Back the way you came, please."
"Shit. This is so confusing," I grumble, but stop as I see CK's phone on the coffee table where he left it. That is highly unusual. He is very much like me with regard to his phone and always has it with him. I hesitate, my hand hovering over it as I look at Lincoln guiltily.
He raises his eyebrow
at me and says, "V.A. Don't do it."
"I have to," I say quietly, in case he can hear me all the way from upstairs. I snatch it up and push the Home button. Passcode locked, of course. Lincoln moves to stand over my shoulder, clearly intrigued. What would it be? I vainly type in ‘1012’ but it fails. I tap my thumb on it, chewing on my lip. I won't get many more tries at this.
"Try it in Latin," Lincoln says helpfully. As it turns out, Lincoln was a master of Latin at Oxford University at the turn of the last century before he moved to America. Also, funnily enough he came across on the same boat as me and Devon, and we never even knew it until a conversation about when he ventured to America came up. Call it fate, destiny, whatever: we were bound to end up together.
I tap ‘MXII’ and it unlocks. I smile up at him.
"I don't condone this, you know," he says in mock sternness.
I roll my eyes at him. "Don't help then."
I look back at the phone and I’m amazed to see a picture of him and me on his wallpaper. It's an older picture, about two years ago, I think. I don't remember the photo being taken but it was clearly a posed picture as I am grinning into the camera as he gazes down at me adoringly, our arms wrapped around each other. I remember the dress I was wearing. In fact, I think it is still at his penthouse in Milan. We were at the only one of his many charitable foundation fundraisers that he attends, in Milan. Quite the philanthropist, my sire. It's a perfect photo. I can see why he likes it but wonder why this one. Surely there is a newer one of us he could use? But no, there isn't. I have been snapped with Cole, Devon, Lincoln, and even Scott and I got our picture in the tabloids once. But I haven't been anywhere in public with Constantine, probably since this photo was taken, except for La Scala last June. Even then, I don't think there were any pictures taken of him as he is master at dodging the press. It's all been secret rendezvous for us, in castles and mansions and hotel rooms. I must rectify that.
"You look beautiful," Lincoln compliments me. "I'm surprised he has it on there though after… everything."
"Me too." My thumb hovers over the Phone icon and I push it, followed quickly by Recent Calls.
"Liv, what exactly are you looking for?"
"I want to know how many others there are," I say, tugging absently at the collar.
"Why don't you just ask him?"
"I tried once but I’m not sure he told the truth."
The list of recent calls is as long as my own. Marguerite has (101) next to her name and that worries me. I never did find out what he is hiding behind his wards at Ponte.
"Who is Marguerite?" Lincoln asks.
"His castle keeper," I say.
"Castle keeper?"
"Well, it's not exactly a house," I point out and he chuckles.
There are hundreds of names, most of them Italian, both male and I gulp, female. I shudder to see that I am listed under ‘Liv’. Arsehole. But then clear my throat as I remember changing his from ‘CK’ to ‘Constantine’ one night in a fit of temper.
"Well, it doesn't really tell you much. Look in his calendar," Lincoln says, now fully engrossed in this horrendously invasive snooping expedition.
I do as bid but it's all just lists of business meetings. I note with disgust that ‘Liv’ has been allotted her times yesterday through to tomorrow.
"I'm just going to ask," I say eventually and back out of the apps. I push the lock button. I wipe the screen on my dress to erase any trail of my snooping.
"What about me?" Lincoln asks innocently.
"What about you?"
"Aren't you going to ask me?"
"Do you want me to?"
"If you like. I have nothing to hide," he says with a sly smile.