Twisted (Burbank and Parker 1)

Taking her reaction to be one of stunned pleasure, Luke urged her to check out the bathroom. She indulged him, walking through the adjoining door, her jaw dropping even farther. Pale pink marble everywhere—floor to ceiling. In the center of the room, an antique alabaster tub. In a smaller inner room, a pale pink marble sink and commode, all with gold faucets. Two Ancient Greek sculptures graced either side of the tub.

Sloane was speechless. Luke had spent an astronomical amount of money, time, and effort on a room that was never going to be used. At best, Sloane would spend one, maybe two, nights here. Then, if Luke had his way, she’d be dead and living in the eternal splendor of Mount Olympus. While this earthly grandeur would be reduced to ashes.

Luke considered her chambers a masterpiece.

Sloane considered them an atrocity.

“You’re astounded,” he deduced with a broad grin.

“I’m speechless.” She reverted back to her masquerade. “You built all this for me?”

“Every bit of it.” Luke walked around, reverently touching each piece of furniture, each pottery accessory as if it were a priceless treasure. “I’ve spent days and days in here, not only building it, but imagining your reaction when you saw it. It became my retreat, the place I went to for solace. Even when the demons threatened to swallow me whole, I found some semblance of peace being here, being in your spiritual presence. Can you understand that?”

“Of course.” Sloane was on the verge of throwing up. Instead, she faced him, pasted an expression of utter awe on her face. “Thank you. I can’t begin to express my gratitude. I truly don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing. Just seeing you in here, watching your elation, is more than enough. Tonight, you’ll sleep between silk sheets. Knowing you’re lying in the luxury befitting you will make me rest easy.” He waved his arm toward the door. “Shall we go to Gaia?”

“Yes. Let’s.”

Lillian didn’t look quite as bad as Sloane had expected—although she had to agree with Luke’s assessment that his mother’s time on earth was nearly at an end.

Propped up in a large bed on a pile of feather pillows, Lillian seemed small and frail, but awake and coherent. Her coloring was sallow, and her breathing uneven. But at least she was breathing on her own, without the help of oxygen. The only apparatus at her bedside was an IV drip, presumably containing morphine, and a commode.

And one more essential item that nearly made Sloane weep with relief—her wheelchair. Assembled and ready for use, it was on the far side of the bed, away from the IV drip—and the view from the doorway.

This was Sloane’s luckiest break so far.

“Mother, we have a guest,” Luke announced.

Sloane noticed he didn’t call her Gaia. He obviously knew she’d be totally confused by that.

“A guest?” Lillian turned her head toward the door, and her pained expression brightened when she saw Sloane—although she did look somewhat baffled. “Sloane. What a lovely surprise. I had no idea you were coming. Did you drive all this way?”

Choosing her words with great care, Sloane replied, “Actually, Luke picked me up. He knew how much I wanted to visit with you, so he made the trip.”

Lillian beamed. “That’s my wonderful son.” Weakly, she raised one arm to gesture at a velvet-cushioned chair. “Luke, would you bring that over so Sloane can sit down and chat?”

Luke shot Sloane a helpless look.

“Actually, before we have our visit, I had another suggestion,” Sloane interceded quickly. “Luke mentioned to me that you’d like a bath. I’d be delighted to do the honors.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “You know how bad men are at figuring out which product is which. Half the time, they confuse hair and bath gel, or body wash and lotion. You end up with a creamed but unbathed body, or hair that’s conditioned but unwashed.”

Soft laughter eased the lines of pain around Lillian’s mouth. “You’re right. And Luke is overly respectful, on top of that. He deals with patients every day, but he can’t bathe his own mother. I guess I raised him with an over-abundance of good manners.”

“You can never have too many good manners. You’ve done an amazing job with Luke. He’s a truly fine man.”

“Thank you, my dear, for the compliment and the offer.” Lillian was eager to accept. It was written all over her face. “You’re very kind. And I’d so like to feel refreshed. Are you sure you don’t mind helping me with my bath?”

“Not a bit. It would make me feel useful. And we could chat at the same time.”

That did the trick. Lillian ra

ised her head from the pillow, and gazed over at her son. “Some female companionship and a bath would be a double blessing.”

“Of course.” Luke looked so relieved, it was almost pitiful. “I’ll fill the tub with warm water, and bring it over with the soap, bath sponge, and towels.” He paused, smiling faintly. “And I’ll bring out all the bath and hair-care products so Sloane can choose the right ones.”

Once again, Sloane noted he used her real name, not Artemis’s. As over the edge as he was, he was still moving in and out of lucidity.

A few minutes later, the bath was set up and ready, and Luke was practically running out of the room.