Coming Home (The Surrender Trilogy 3)

“I’ll see you in the a.m.” Shamus said, leaning into the open door.

Lucian nodded and Dugan shut the door, closing him in welcome, dim silence. When his chauffeur

returned to the wheel, Lucian instructed, “Knights Boulevard.”

The limo stealthily merged into traffic and headed in that direction as he pulled out his phone and

dialed Evelyn. Her cell rang three times before dumping into her generic voicemail. He frowned and

dialed again, only to end at the same result.

Shifting on the soft leather seat, he loosened his tie. This secretiveness was not palatable. As a

matter of fact, it was infuriating him more and more with each passing minute. He removed his pocket

watch and flipped the antique cover open. Her plans must have concluded by now.

As the limo approached her apartment he immediately caught the illuminated, unadorned window.

She needed curtains. Lucian let himself out and faced Dugan on the crippled patch of sidewalk.

“Should I wait, sir?”

As he prepared to answer, something caught his attention. A man, roughly in his late twenties and

carrying a leather messenger bag, exited the alley. Both he and Dugan stared as the man stepped from

the mouth of the alley, the alley that led only to Evelyn’s door.

A fire snapped to life in his gut as all sorts of insinuating scenarios ran rampant through his mind in a blink of an eye.

“Oh, excuse me,” the man suddenly said, stepping around them, clearly not expecting others to be

on the walkway at this late hour. Their presence was likely as surprising as, say, a man exiting

Evelyn’s home at such an hour.

They trained their gazes on his progress to the little Toyota parked across the street and, as if

reading his mind, Dugan said, “Follow him?”

Lucian’s teeth were clenched so tight it was a wonder his tongue found the space to form words.

“Yes.”

His man nodded and returned to the idling limo, making no secret of trailing the Toyota. As he

stood on the pavement alone, Lucian collected his wits. A thousand assumptions played devil’s

advocate in his mind. When his temper was somewhat under control and he’d waited long enough to

discount any perceived coincidental meetings, he entered the alley and knocked on Evelyn’s door.

Seeing the newly installed security lights brought him comfort, but he made a mental note to have the

landlord agree to security cameras. He’d handle the cost and installation as well as the monitoring

feed.

The peephole darkened, followed by the opening of the door. Evelyn appeared surprised to see him.

“Lucian.”

“Evelyn. May I come in?” She was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and her silver eyes appeared

weary. What the hell was going on?

She nodded and led the way up the narrow stairs. He was reminded again just how miniscule her

chateau was as he ducked under the low-slung ceiling at the top of the steps.

“I wasn’t expecting you.” A small table had been added to her meager collection of furniture. Two

chairs. She made quick work of collecting a stack of papers from the surface of the table and stashing

them in a cabinet. The paperwork confused him and he regretted not having the gall to demand she let

him see what it was. The bed was neatly made.

“How was your evening?” he asked.

“Fine.”

They faced off in silence, Evelyn’s gaze landing everywhere but on his own. This was bullshit. He

had the urge to demand she fess up to whatever secrets she was keeping. What had the loan been for?

Who was that man?

His senses prickled as a subtle trace of the man’s cologne drifted to him. His molars locked in

place. The pregnant silence weighed heavily, so much so he wondered if her dollhouse of an apartment

could withstand the laden presence. She fidgeted with the string attached to the worn hood of her

sweatshirt.

His chest expanded with hot breath until he fought the urge to scream.

“Did your dinner go well?”

Small talk? Really? “Fine.”

She glanced at him and quickly averted her eyes. These were the signs of submission that went right

to his cock. So strong and capable yet so delicate when handled rightly thus. He stepped closer and her fingers fluttered to her side. “You’ve been pushing me away.”

Shock registered in her stare. Her lips parted. They were so soft and pink without the need for gloss.

“I . . . I was with you last night.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Today, at the market, your clandestine plans, which you

refuse to enlighten me on—how many walls are we going to erect before we are two completely

separate beings?”

“It’s only because . . .”

He stepped closer, interrupting her excuse. She made a sound of confusion low in her throat and

looked at his shoes. Her feet were bare. Did that other man see her toes?

Her breath was shaky and the slight space between them became charged with his need to possess

what he saw as his. He sensed her need building as well, the ever-present chemistry between them that