tendencies would be impossible to rewrite.
This was who she was. He’d take care of her so long as she let him.
“It was a stupid dream,” she muttered.
“Everyone has fears, Evelyn. Some are rational and some aren’t, but that doesn’t make them any
less frightening.”
“This from the man who fears nothing.”
“I have fears.”
The echo of her gentle breathing filled the air. She whispered, “What are you afraid of, Lucian?”
Losing you. Ruining what we have again. Not being strong enough for you. “I’m afraid of what I
can’t control.”
“Ah, but I thought you controlled the world.”
“Smartass.” He smirked in the dark. “I’m afraid of not being able to protect you. I want to always
be there when you need me, when you’re lost. I always want to help you find your way home.”
He sensed her satisfaction with his answer and imagined her blushing in the dark as she attempted
to deny her lips a grin. “Surely that will never happen with Dugan forever on my tail.”
“Exactly.” A few beats passed. “But that’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?” Her question was asked in a husky voice reserved for mornings and talks
with cheeks pressed upon soft pillows.
“I mean I never want you to think you can’t come to me, with anything, no matter what. I’d stop the
world for you.”
His mind filled with strobes of red and blue lights, flares lined along the shoulder of the road
leading to his estate, and Monique’s covered body on a gurney. But in his nightmares it wasn’t
Monique. It was Evelyn. Those were his bad dreams.
His request slipped past his lips, a hushed plea. “Come over.”
“I can’t.”
“Why? I want to hold you and make you feel safe.”
“You do. Just knowing that I can hear your voice is reassuring.”
He sighed. “I feel like I just got you back and I can’t reach you. It’s making me crazy. Will you
spend the night with me tonight?”
“I . . . I can’t.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“I have plans.”
“Tell me your plans.”
“Lucian,” she said in warning.
“What are your plans?”
“I have a . . . meeting.”
His brow kinked. “With?”
She sighed. “Don’t do this. I told you there are things I need to take care of on my own.”
“I’m not doing anything but asking you a question. You’re the one being secretive for no reason. Be
open with me. I don’t understand—”
“Things are different now. I can’t go back to the way things were. Not after . . .”
Right. Not after he royally fucked up. This was the shit that was making him crazy. He’d somehow
placed himself in a certain kind of purgatory. How long would it take to get her to be open with him
again?
He hated tiptoeing around, worrying he’d push too hard and somehow push her away. He needed to
reel his temper in and trust her to open up when she was ready.
“When you’re ready, will you tell me?”
“Lucian.”
“Give me something, Evelyn. I’m trying to be patient here. At least give me credit for not insisting
on full disclosure. I know it has to do with the money. I don’t care. I want you to have it to do with as you please. I won’t talk you out of whatever you’re buying. Just . . . eventually . . . tell me.”
There was a long moment of silence. “When I’m ready.”
“Good enough.”
Chapter 12
Postmortem
An analysis of a game after it’s over
“This is fucking bullshit.” Lucian gripped his cell as he climbed into the elevator, maneuvering
around the others filling the cramped space. A woman in a fitted suit smiled up at him. He ignored her
and focused on what Shamus was saying.
“I can’t figure it out either. This deal was in the bag. I don’t understand what’s causing them to
procrastinate.”
“Have you sent over the paperwork from Quincy?” The elevator paused as several riders exited.
Lucian waited as the doors closed and it continued on its journey to the top.
“They got it yesterday. My understanding was that they were only waiting for the final draft. The
board was all in agreement this was the best move. It doesn’t make sense for them to pull back now.
What’s changed?” Shamus was clearly as frustrated as he was.
Lucian stepped off the elevator and walked at a clipped pace past Seth’s desk. “Get me Quincy on
the phone, and I want a copy of your notes from yesterday’s conference call.”
“Yes, sir,” his assistant said, snapping into action.
Lucian shut the door and went to his desk, removing his jacket and tossing it over the chair. Today
was going to be a pain in the ass. He could already sense it. His mind refocused on what Jamie was
saying.
“. . . The statistics are all in their favor. There are no other bids on the table now that Chrysler’s
withdrawn their offer. Could there be someone we overlooked?”
Lucian dropped into his chair. “Who? Bishop’s not going to be interested. He’s already on my shit
list and knows going into this will only end in his company’s bloodshed.”