He scrunched the paper into a ball and threw it over the counter, hitting the trashcan. “How did you find me?”
“Your agent. Your bodyguard told her where you are.” She took another paper from the carrier and left it on the counter in front of him.
It was a copy of the one he’d just used for ball practice. “How many of these do you have?”
“Enough.”
He allowed his senses to override his mind to once more see the light around her face. The colors pulsed with vibrant luminosity. Under his stare, the violet part grew brighter as her face turned hotter, but her lips remained a shade of blue.
He turned to the bar. “While you’re here, let me buy you a drink. It’ll warm you up.”
“No, thanks.”
“I insist.” He signaled for the bartender who gave them a curious look from under his eyebrows.
Faced with the man’s stare, she said, “A glass of white wine, please.” When the barman was gone, she tipped her head in the nosy man’s direction, her expression almost sympathetic. “It’s always like this.”
It was a statement, not a question. Of course, having grown up with a mother like hers, she’d know.
The barman put a glass of wine in front of her.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten,” she said after taking a sip of the wine. “We can go through the answers on our way to the newspaper office.”
He swiveled on his seat to face her squarely. “I signed a contract to perform. Interviews and photo shoots aren’t part of the deal.” He hated talking about himself, especially about his past.
“It’s my responsibility to see that your concert sells. Since you don’t read much, you wouldn’t have noticed, but assisting us with publicity in any way deemed reasonable is part of your contract.”
“My shows sell out, newspaper articles or not.”
“People know you as a rock star, not as a tenor. The tickets are expensive. Three performances are a lot of seats. We still have empty seats, and even if each one of them had a bum in it, I’d still require the interviews for the brand-building value. They’re as good for you as they are for us.”
Wind roared through the darkness, the intensity shaking the windowpanes. His instinct went on high alert. Even in London where rain was the norm, this kind of storm was uncommon. Voices fluttered around his head, faint whispers that begged to be let in. He pressed a hand on his ear in an automatic but futile reflex. The light in the room exploded as his sixth sense involuntarily took over and made him see the clientele wrapped in color. Blue, red, and yellow intermingled.
His gaze traveled over the people, and then his heart yanked to a stop. Behind Alice sat a man in a seat that had, up to a second ago, been empty. Figured, since he had no light. Around his face was nothing but darkness. Ivan’s eyes connected with a pair of empty, black ones. His palms turned sweaty, and acid pushed up his throat. Remembering Nicolas’s disturbing words all too well, he turned to Alice.
“You’ll want to finish that drink and leave, now.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes for a second before she replaced it with the same impersonal smile from before. She took a bill from her folder and placed it on the counter.
“I said I’m buying,” he said.
She got to her feet. “It’s tax deductible for me.”
“Drinks with single men after hours?”
“I’m just doing my job.”
She emphasized job, probably to tell him in no uncertain terms she saw this as nothing more than a business meeting. When she removed his coat and deposited it on the bar stool, he shifted his hand for their fingers to touch. She jerked her hand away. Bullshit. For all her aloofness, she was as aware of him as he was of her. He searched her eyes for the truth. People’s eyes hardly ever lied, but the glasses went back onto her face like she was building a wall between them.
His gaze settled on the man at the table behind her. “How are you getting home?”
“By tube.”
“Let me get you a cab.”
“I can take care of myself, Ivan. See you tomorrow.”
The man behind her grinned.
“Don’t be late.” She turned and made her way to the door. The wind almost blew her back into the pub when she opened it and exited into the dark, wet street.
“You should have walked her home,” the colorless man said.
Ivan looked around before approaching the table. He sat down and leaned his elbows on the top. A foul smell erased the lingering fragrance of lilies. The man wore a black suit and red tie. His dark hair was combed back, each strand in place.
“What do you want?” Ivan asked quietly.
The man regarded him with an emotionless face. “Aren’t you going to ask who I am?”