Lucius reaches out to run his fingers along a lock of my hair. “I’ll give you five minutes alone with Arlo if you tell me who hurt you.”
I step back, needing distance between us. “Is this some sort of mind game?”
“Someone putting their hands on you isn’t a game.” He has that deadly tone again, the one that affects me in myriad ways, none of them good.
“In that case, you should keep your hands to yourself.”
“I’m not just someone, Evie, and you know it.” He moves closer, invading my space and making it his.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll get to him sooner or later.” I can’t tell him what happened. Not just because I don’t have a name, but because if he realizes I’m being dragged into the Acquisition, he might kill me. Something deep inside whispers that he’d never do that, but I can’t trust that voice. It’s the same one that pulled me out to his house last night. It’s the voice of that foolish little girl who trusts everyone and gains nothing from it but pain.
“Ten minutes.” He blocks my path back down the stairs. “Ten minutes alone with him to do your song and dance.”
God knows I need this chance with Arlo Angles, but the cost is too high. “No.”
“Fifteen.” He searches my eyes with his gaze. “Fifteen minutes of uninterrupted saleswomanship. All I need is for you to tell me who. That’s all I want from you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He gives me a wry look. “That last part may have been a lie, but the rest is true.”
“Why do you even care? Have you forgotten this?” I poke his chest.
He grunts but doesn’t move. “Evie, if you think a bullet can stop me from getting what I want, you have a lot to learn about me.”
“I know enough.” I push past him and hurry down the stairs. I have to get out of here. For some reason, the worry in his tone is breaking me apart bit by bit. The way he wants to know who hurt me—it’s like a poison slowly spreading in my veins. If I don’t get away from him, something inside me is going to burst. And when it does, I won’t be able to hide anymore.
“Evie—”
“Leave me alone, Lucius!” I push through the wrought iron, rush down the stairs, and bolt to my car.
His hand comes down on the door, keeping it shut. He’s beside me, his chest against my shoulder. I can smell his cologne, a light scent of pine and some sort of dark citrus. How can evil be molded into such an alluring man?
“Evie.” He says my name softly this time, the way a lover would.
I can’t trust myself to speak, not when the tears are already stinging behind my eyes.
“Let me help you. Please.”
A million ways to cut him are on the tip of my tongue. Accusations. Curses. Insults. Everything I can think of and some extra venom on top. But I can’t say any of them. Can’t do anything except lean into him. Only for a moment. A small second where I’m not alone, where there’s someone who can hold my burden if just for a fleeting flash of time.
He presses his lips to my hair. “Please, Evie.”
And then I come to my senses, shove him away from me, get into my car, and leave him as fast as I can.
My tears don’t wait for my apartment. I succumb only a few blocks away and have to park as I fall apart. At least I’m alone, I tell myself as I scream and beat the steering wheel, letting it all out.
But for the first time in years, being alone doesn’t give me any solace.
17
Lucius
Evie takes a lunch meeting with her lawyer. Then she goes to Saks for a pair of heels and a cloak. After that, she takes a trip to the edge of the French Quarter and purchases a mask.
The tail I put on her has been quite detailed about all he sees as she goes about her day. I devour each word, hungry for more.
“Arlo is in line, I take it?” Sin stares out at the city from the Magnolia headquarters in the business district.
“Yes. His predilection for eighteen-year-old boys has caught up to him.”
“Photos?” he asks.
“Video. He wouldn’t want his wife to see it, much less the diocese where his son is a priest.”
He stares out the window, his desk pristine. “Good. Who else will she try to pick off?”
“Unger is next, I’d bet.”
“She contacted him yet?”
“No, which is not on par for her. She’s veered off the path a bit today. Something else is preoccupying her. She bought a gown at a swank boutique, and now she’s purchased a mask.”
His eyebrow twitches. “Acquisition.”
“They’ve contacted her.” I saw the truth of it written on her body, in the bruises that she tried to hide. And when she leaned into me by the car, that one little hint of contact that seemed to me like a concession, an admission that she needs me. Not just anyone. Me.