Page 74 of Damaged Desires

“This is you,” he said.

The room had a huge canopied bed done up in white, pale greens, and hints of yellow as if a daisy had just bloomed. The canopy was a graceful splash of lace not unlike a bride’s veil. It was delicate and beautiful. Even the furniture was graceful and dainty, made of curling wrought iron painted green, adding to the feel of flowers on their stems. The colors were equally soothing and energizing, the peace and calm of the whites and greens sprinkled with the cheery yellow.

“It’s right above the conservatory,” he said. “If you look out, you can see inside the glass roof from the window.” He pointed to a window seat, where the white eyelet lace cushions were covered in pale-green pillows with the same pop of yellow.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

He looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time and gave a curt nod. “I suppose it is.”

“That door”—he pointed to the opposite wall—“leads to a private bath and a walk-in closet.”

He stood at the door for a moment before turning to leave, pausing to say, “You don’t have to work here. There are plenty of rooms downstairs.”

“Where did you study as a kid?”

He looked away again. “Before I knew better, I studied in the library while my uncle worked, plotting my next chess move.”

He grimaced as if he hadn’t meant to tell me any of that, but it had spilled out anyway.

My phone rang instead of buzzing. The ringtone I’d set for Mac, “Warrior” by Kid Rock, was strident and loud in the quiet house.

“I’ll let you get that,” Nash said, and he left, shutting the door behind him. It was an even more somber version of Nash than I’d ever seen before. As if this house had suddenly turned him into someone else.

“Hey,” I said, steeling myself for Mac’s ire.

“Thank God,” he said. His tone, full of relief instead of anger, had me stalling my sassy reply. “Where are you?”

“I told?”

“Don’t even. Georgie just got done texting Brady. You aren’t with him. He’s on his way to someplace in Vermont.”

Damn. I hadn’t expected them to figure it out so quickly. Georgie, of course, would have checked in with her longtime friend after hearing that the shows had been canceled. My brain had been overloaded with emotions since yesterday; otherwise, I would have already told Brady to just let it slide if they thought I was with them.

“You’re stalling. Trying to find a way to tell me the truth. What the hell is going on, Dani?”

There was the anger. “I just didn’t want everyone to worry.”

“It’s too late for that.”

I sat down on the window seat, looking out at the view of the conservatory, the pool, and the lemon-scented trees we’d driven past. It was stunning. A painting or a picture in the making. One you’d hang on a wall in your very best room, and yet, it was something Nash had hidden away. A family he hadn’t shared.

“Dani.” Mac’s prodding brought me back to him, and I just let the truth slip out of me.

“I was poisoned.”

I’d wanted to figure out a way to spin the words before I’d shared them with anyone, but I couldn’t.

“What?” Mac’s voice dropped. “Are you okay?”

“I am now. Fiona got into the restaurant we ate at yesterday and added ipecac syrup to my drink. So, I was pretty sick for most of the afternoon and into the evening.”

“Where the hell was Nash?” Mac’s voice was all growl.

“Don’t blame him. He was there with five other members of the detail. She must have disguised herself or something, because the place was pretty small, and none of us saw her.”

“That’s exactly what Nash is paid to do for a living.”

“Stop. He already feels bad.”