Page 22

Chapter Sixteen

ISADORA

What the hell?

I hadn’t meant to let Lucien kiss me. But it’d happened.

And I certainly hadn’t intended to invite him to stay the night. Yet that’d happened as well.

Had I lost my mind?

Abso-damn-lutely.

But did I care? That was the real question.

And one I didn’t have an answer for yet.

My head was still spinning, and right now, I barely knew up from down.

Twelve hours ago, back at the café, I never would have imagined Lucien was interested in me.

I’d shoved him firmly into the “unholy pain in my ass” category with plans to leave him there until the world came to a catastrophic end. Now?

Now, I didn’t know what box to put him in anymore.

Rival business owner? Check.

Pain in my ass? Double check.

Possible love interest? Erm…jury was still out on that one.

I wanted him—no question. The second his lips had touched mine, woo baby, my whole body had lit up like a Christmas tree. My heart had leaped to new heights and still hadn’t landed. He’d knocked the air right out of my lungs.

And the worst part? Trystan had never made me feel that way.

At least, not that I could remember anyway—and I had a long memory.

Sure, there’d been attraction with Trystan—I never would have agreed to be his mate otherwise.

But my attraction to Trystan was a faint flicker in the dark compared to the flood Lucien unleashed inside me.

He was lightning in a bottle. It was like comparing a firefly to fireworks. Cute versus cataclysmic.

Gods, what would Thorne say when she found out I’d just made out with Lucien? A sworn enemy of her family, and the one person she’d explicitly warned me to avoid.

Scratch that—what wouldn’t she say?

My relationship with Thorne was new. It didn’t have the stability that came with a decades-long friendship. What if she walked away from me—and the bar—because of this? Had I just put everything at risk…for a kiss?

Still. She deserved to know. About the break-in, at the very least. As for the kiss? Well, I wasn’t sure if I should mention that yet. I could lock that moment in the Vault of Poor Choices for now. Let it marinate there until I had a better sense of what I wanted.

Lucien had made his intentions clear. He’d blatantly said he wanted me. Zero hesitation. And that he wanted to earn me—whatever that meant.

Oh boy.

Suddenly, his attempt to buy the bar from me earlier made a hell of a lot more sense.

Because when attracted to someone, wiping out their livelihood didn’t exactly foster the best relationship.

No wonder Juliette had stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

From what Thorne had told me, he didn’t do mercy.

He was renowned for his ruthless business decisions, no matter the cost. Profits over people, always.

Juliette had probably expected him to sit down at the table and obliterate me without batting so much as an eyelash.

Instead, he’d offered to buy me out and give me a chance at a fresh start and a comfortable life.

The damned fool.

Clearly, he hadn’t understood that I didn’t want someone to take care of me. Been there. Done that. It’d nearly destroyed me. I wanted to stand on my own two feet now, depend only on myself and no one else.

As for Thorne, I would call her first thing in the morning. Right now, my plans consisted of lying on my slashed bed and staring at the ceiling for the next eight soul-crushing hours, while I figured out what I was even doing with my life.

Because it was late. I was exhausted, and completely and utterly confused.

And, oh yeah, someone had vandalized my entire loft who clearly hated me.

The list of suspects wasn’t long, but Lucien didn’t fit that description anymore.

At least that was one name—the only name —I could scratch off my list of possible perpetrators.

I scrubbed my hands down my face and groaned. “What a night.”

I hadn’t expected a response, but Bernard offered a soft chime overhead, the twinkling chorus oddly sympathetic.

I smiled despite myself. When I’d first come to Eternity Falls, I truly hadn’t expected to befriend a ghost—or a werewolf for that matter.

I certainly hadn’t expected to find peace . Yet here I was.

My life looked nothing like it had in New Orleans, and I was perfectly okay with that. Maybe it was a good thing. I liked my bar, my ghost, and my friend.

As for Lucien…

Yeah, I liked him too. I could admit that much, at least. He’d caught my eye the second he’d walked into my bar. He was too handsome not to be noticed. Thankfully, I was old enough to know better than to let an attractive face distract me.

But everything had changed tonight. When I’d stormed into his bar and accused him of breaking into mine, he could have thrown me out on my ass.

Instead, he’d comforted and reassured me.

I’d practically called him a criminal, and rather than sending me on my way, he’d danced with me, then walked me home and inspected the premises to make sure I was safe.

Clearly, there was a lot more to Lucien St. Germain than what he let the world see.

A soft knock on the door jolted me out of my thoughts. I stiffened, every muscle in my body coiling. I spun on my stool and stared at the door, anxiety clawing at my chest.

When I didn’t immediately respond, another knock followed. Then came a voice. “Miss Laurent? Mr. St. Germain sent me…”

With a soft breath, the tension drained from my body, and I crossed the room. I hadn’t actually locked the door yet, like Lucien insisted. Ah well. I twisted the doorknob and pulled open the door wide enough to peek out.

A man stood on the other side—neatly dressed, not imposing, but clearly a vampire. He smiled warmly at me, and I found myself smiling back.

“My name is Elias,” he said. “I’m Mr. St. Germain’s personal assistant. He asked me to deliver this”—he held up a box, one clearly full of bottled blood—“and to introduce you to Rue, the head of our security team.”

He angled his body and gestured across the street.

A woman stood in the shadows. She leaned casually against a building, arms and legs crossed, and one boot resting on the wall behind her.

Her long, ashen hair caught in the moonlight, and her bright eyes practically glowed in the darkness.

She clearly was not a vampire, and the power she emanated practically suffocated the entire street.

“Rue’s the best,” Elias said. “You won’t see her again unless she wants you to. But rest assured, nothing gets past her. You can sleep knowing that. In the morning, we’ll reassess.”

I nodded, though my gaze didn’t stray from Rue. I was too busy trying to figure out what she was. Magical, certainly. Almost ethereal.

She dipped her head in a polite nod, then vanished an instant later. Just like that, gone.

My breath caught, and I turned back to Elias.

He didn’t seem fazed. Just offered a courteous bow, then handed over the box. “If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to reach out. My number’s inside.”

I blinked at the package, confused. “I don’t have?—”

“Mr. St. Germain included a phone for you,” Elias interrupted smoothly, as though expecting my response. “He wanted you to have a direct line in case something happens. You’ll find his number programmed into it.”

Of course I would.

With that, Elias turned and strolled down the street, his hands tucked into his pockets as though he didn’t have a care in the world. I stood in the doorway a moment longer, blood box in hand. Then I stepped back inside and shut the door.

This time, I locked it.

Lucien would be proud.

I snorted at that thought and carried the box to the bar. Setting it down, I opened the lid and took stock of the bottles, all while considering my options. The bar had a fridge, but I hadn’t cleaned it yet, since I had nothing to stock it with. Except now, I did.

Sighing, I grabbed a pair of gloves and cleaner and got to work.

Not exactly how I pictured ending the night, but I didn’t have much of a choice.

If I left the blood sitting out, it would spoil.

And I absolutely refused to put anything inside the fridge until it sparkled and smelled of nothing but bleach.

I was halfway through scrubbing the second shelf when a soft chime rang out behind me.

Not Bernard. This sound was sharper. Mechanical.

The phone.

I peeled off the gloves and tossed them onto the counter, then dug through the box until I located the phone. I pulled it free, unsurprised to find Lucien’s name lit up on the screen. Because of course it was. No one else knew about the phone.

Nerves fluttered in my stomach as the memory of our kiss rose to mind again, annoyingly vivid and deliciously tempting. I bit down on my lower lip, drew in a breath, and swiped a finger across the screen, then set the call on speaker.

“Hello, Lucien,” I said.

“Good,” came his immediate reply. Apparently, that counted as a greeting in his eyes. “The phone is yours to keep. Share the number if you’d like, but I’d advise discretion—given your current circumstances.”

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see it, but kept my sarcastic response to myself. He was doing me a kindness, after all.

“I expect you to use it,” he added, voice firmer now. “If anything happens—anything at all—you call me. Understood?”

I sank onto the nearest bar stool and reached for one of the bottles Lucien had sent. I uncapped the lid and took a small swallow. “Just so you know, I don’t like being told what to do.”

“I’m aware,” Lucien said, with a hint of dry amusement. “But just this once, please do as I ask.”

I didn’t respond, but I also didn’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

Lucien was silent for a beat. Then he cleared his throat and asked, “Are you all right?”

I froze with the bottle halfway to my lips.

Such a simple question, but no one had really asked me that, not since everything went to Hell.

Not even my parents—though to be fair, they’d had their own problems to deal with, too busy trying to salvage what remained of our name, our estate, and reputations.

Still. The question caught me off guard.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then tried again, really not sure what to say.

“I don’t know,” I finally admitted. “I think I’m okay. I’m…here. That has to count for something, right?”

“That counts for everything,” he said.

Something in his voice softened. And damn it, I felt it. That little tug behind my ribs. A voice whispered in my head, telling me he clearly cared about me. He’d even admitted it. But was I ready to take the plunge into a new relationship?

Gods, I hadn’t been with anyone but Trystan in a hundred years. That accounted for half my life. And before Trystan, I hadn’t cared much about relationships.

“Try to get some sleep,” Lucien suggested. “I’ll call you in the morning to check in.”

I didn’t respond, too caught up in my thoughts.

“Isadora?” His tone sharpened.

The worry in his voice snapped me out of it, and I nodded. “Sorry. I zoned out there for a moment.”

“That’s all right,” he replied. “As long as you’re okay.”

I hesitated another moment, then said, “Thank you, Lucien.”

“What for?” he asked, his voice incredulous, as though he truly believed I had nothing to thank him for.

“For the blood? The phone? For helping me?” I rubbed my temple. “All of it, really.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. I pictured him standing in his office, maybe peering out his window. He couldn’t see my bar from there, but I imagined him looking for it.

“I’ll see you soon, Isadora,” he said at last.

Then the line went dead.

I stared at the phone a moment longer before blacking out the screen. Maybe people didn’t often thank him. I could see that.

I set the phone aside, finished my bottle, then resumed scrubbing out the fridge. There wasn’t much I could control right now—my feelings included—but I could control this. Cleaning would keep me distracted for now.

The rest?

Well, I’d figure all that out in the morning.

Maybe.