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I don’t bother to soften my order with a smile or some other nicety. Tonight appears to be about setting boundaries. Clearly defined ones so we don’t have this issue again. I mentally step into the void, that place where nothing exists except me. A place where I have total control. Where no one can reach me, including her.
“The subject of Lucifer is off-limits to everyone, and that includes you, arrangement or no. Are we clear?”
She stares at me for so long I wonder if she’s going to say anything. Then, at last, she closes her portfolio and puts it in her lap.
“Crystal.”
She wheels back from the table, turns and leaves the room. I sit there, staring down the length of the table. The room seems a touch darker, memories of the past surging in the shadows to fill the emptiness left by my wife.
My butler, James, appears with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Is Mrs. Drakos not joining us, sir?”
“No.” I keep my eyes away from the door that Tessa just left through. “Tired from traveling. I’m dining alone.”
He nods his head and sets one glass on the table. I watch the ruby red liquid splash inside. Focus on the details instead of the emotions until they’re quiet enough for me to push them back down where they belong.
I remember creating the void as a child. I couldn’t have been more than five or six. I remember stepping into it for the first time after one of Lucifer’s screaming matches that left my mother in tears and me cowering in her embrace.
One of the last times I remember her hugging me before she withdrew from my life. Became a cold wraith that flitted through the villa until one day, she simply left.
The void is what kept me strong all these years, immune to anything and anyone. I utilize it not just for my own sake, but for others’, too. People like Gavriil, even if he doesn’t know it. The void was the only thing that kept me from breaking, from going to my brother and offering the comfort and support I had wanted to, an action that would have resulted in Lucifer tossing Gavriil back out onto the streets.
People like Tessa, who look at the world with stars in their eyes that blind them to the reality of who people really are inside.
For decades, the void has been unbreachable. But as I pick up my glass of wine, I have to work to dismiss the guilt tugging at me through the walls I usually maintain. Yes, I was harsh. Tessa has never experienced that side of me, not fully anyway, in the years I’ve known her.
Better for her to learn now, though, before we continue with our agreement. If she truly wants to follow through with our arrangement instead of ending up in a long, drawn-out legal battle, she’ll have to accept me and who I am.
With a man like Lucifer for a father, it’s only understandable that I have a little bit of the devil in me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tessa
ISTARE ATmy screen, rereading the same email for the fourth time. I’ve managed to push through most of the day by focusing on work. Juliette’s house is a pleasure to work on. I did a video conference with her earlier, including a walk-through of some of the rooms I had questions on. Seeing the spaces and hearing Juliette’s enthusiasm for everything I proposed gave me a much-needed boost to my gloomy mood.
The house in France, however, the one for the client I’m essentially doing for free… I’ll never admit it to Rafe, but the scope of the project is starting to become clear. And God, it’s going to be rough.
When the woman wrote to me sharing how her husband had passed away before he had been able to make the improvements he had promised as old age had stolen her independence, I had resolved to find a way. Yes, on some level, I know Rafe is right. It’s foolhardy. I don’t even know if the inspection I’ve ordered will find that the house is savable.
But as I read the inquiry that came through my website, her desperation was evident. “I feel trapped,” she’d written. “I’d like to live my remaining years as best I can, but I fear it’s too late.”
I felt each and every one of those words. And, I think angrily as I exit out of my screen and push back from my desk, I don’t give one wit about Rafe’s outlook on business. I can survive without Tessa’s Interiors. I started this business because it was something I enjoyed and something I could bring a unique perspective to. I would rather try and fail than make a profit at the expense of people who could use a business like mine the most.
Screw you, Rafe.
He hadn’t sought me out last night after I’d left the dining room. Seeing that side of him, the one I’d heard Gavriil talk so much about but had never witnessed in its entirety, had been unsettling. Rafe and I were nowhere near compatible. I must have had a moment of insanity to agree to his proposal.
Not insanity, I correct myself as I shift from my office chair into my wheelchair. Desperation. I roll myself out onto my balcony and look out over the sea. This is one of the few things I’ve missed living in Paris. Being able to go out and smell the salty air, hear the distant cry of gulls, the lapping of waves on the beach.
Maybe I’ll set aside some funds from my next project and schedule a couple trips to some of France’s beaches. I haven’t been to Normandy or the south. The south is especially appealing given that Katie and I both earned our scuba diving certifications a couple months ago. Maybe when I get back, I can talk her into a girls’ trip to celebrate her engagement. She texted me photos yesterday of her proudly wearing the ring.
I didn’t tell her where I was, just that I had left for a short trip and promised to tell her everything when I got back. When she pressed for more details, I’d encouraged her to enjoy her engagement and being with a man like Nathan who adored her.
My heart twists my chest. I’m happy for Katie. Truly. She was mostly ignored by my father and barely acknowledged as my mother devoted herself to my care. It’s a miracle she doesn’t resent me. Although our parents’ lack of interest gave her a freedom I never had. A freedom that kept us on friendly terms, but without the kind of deep, fierce love we have now.
I am happy for her. It’s just hard to ignore the whisper that I may never experience what she has. And after Rafe’s and my disagreement last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if he booked his plane to fly me back to Paris before I can experience sex.