Page 86 of The Lost Zone (Dark Water #3)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Alex

First impressions were accurate where Elliot Dacre was concerned. He was gossipy, charming, and eccentric, with exaggerated facial expressions and an infectious giggle. Alex liked him, and the feeling was clearly mutual as Dacre didn’t take his eyes off him all evening.

Tyler sat there like a gooseberry, with a sour look on his face, as the two flirted and laughed.

Alex didn’t know why he was so disgruntled.

Dacre was a guest and Alex was supposed to entertain him – why else was he dressed in this particular outfit?

He wondered why he hadn’t been given information about Dacre and decided that Tyler, paranoid control freak that he was, hadn’t wanted to give away any part of his plan.

As ludicrous as it seemed, if Alex had known Dacre was a holophotographer, some element of Tyler’s surprise might have been ruined. That was how Tyler’s mind worked.

The hologram of his mother was with them for the entire meal, looking up, smiling, and coming towards him over and over again.

The shock of seeing her looking so real had shaken him initially, but now he was delighted.

It’d been months since he’d given up his photos, but Tyler had provided him with a substitute far superior to the crumpled magazine image he’d treasured for so long.

He gazed at her constantly, smiling back stupidly in response to her beaming face.

Luckily, Dacre was an easy guest to entertain. He loved talking about himself, his work, his celebrity friends, and his ambitions.

“Holoart is the next big thing, and I’m the best there is, sweetie,” he proclaimed, stroking Alex’s arm seductively. Dacre’s efforts to impress him were endearing, given that he was his prize for making the stunning hologram. He really didn’t have to make so much effort; Alex was a done deal.

“So he keeps saying,” Tyler murmured as he sipped his coffee. “We’ll see. People’s tastes are so unpredictable. Take that holotie your friend was hawking around recently, Alexander. I had to pass on that. I’m not convinced they’ll take off.”

“A holotie?” Dacre laughed. “Well, there are new uses for holotech all the time, of course, but that sounds terribly frivolous. I think of my own pieces as works of art.” He puffed out his chest, looking very pleased with himself.

“I used to own one,” Alex said. Dacre looked delighted. “Not an original, bespoke artwork, just that holopic of Hudson Brink emerging from the fire.”

“Ah, that was one of my earliest holopics. It really took off and showed people what the artform could do. I’ve improved hugely since then, of course.

You see, Chris, what makes me different from all the other holoartists out there is that all my pictures tell a story.

I evoke feelings in the viewer, and that’s something I intend to build on, my love. I’ve only just got started.”

“Chris?” Alex queried softly.

“Did I call you Chris? I’m sorry. You remind me of someone, that’s all.” Dacre’s cheery face clouded over.

“Someone special?” Alex leaned forward and rested his hand comfortingly on Dacre’s.

“My husband. He died in an AV accident . You have the look of him. He liked to dress that way, too – it was his signature style.”

At times like these, Alex could have cheerfully punched Tyler in the face. Instead, he ran his thumb gently over Dacre’s palm.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “You must miss him terribly.” It was impossible not to think of Joe missing Peter, and he felt a familiar plummeting sensation in his belly.

Was it worse for the people left behind than for those who’d left too soon?

He was so familiar with the weight of grief, the heft and constancy of it, and that grinding sense of loss that never went away.

“I do.” Dacre’s eyes were suddenly full of tears; clearly, he was a man whose emotions ran close to the surface.

“He was soulful, and you have the same quality, my darling boy. It’s not about looks, although you have the look of him, with the dark hair and pale skin.

It’s about something deeper – a quality within.

I look with the eyes of an artist, you see, my sweet. I see what others don’t.”

Alex was also an artist, but he knew bullshit when he heard it. He nodded anyway. “Absolutely. I can tell from your work how talented you are.”

“I can see your mum in you, too.” Dacre gestured at the hologram. “I know your colouring is different, but you have her essence. I’d know you were her son even if nobody told me.”

“People often said I look like her, but I never saw it because I’m such a Lytton, with dark hair and grey eyes.”

“It’s in the smile, and also something indefinable – a way of holding yourself, certain facial expressions. You have her spirit, my love.”

Tyler made a strangled sound. “Well, it’s late, and you must be going,” he said abruptly to Dacre. The man looked startled, as well he might when he’d clearly been expecting to spend the night with Alex.

Dacre was reluctant to leave, but Tyler soon hurried him on his way with a manner bordering on rudeness. Alex was embarrassed for him, without remotely allowing it to show. Dacre pulled him into a hug as he said goodbye and rested his hands firmly on his buttocks.

“Another time, sweetie,” he whispered throatily in Alex’s ear.

“I look forward to it,” he replied, acutely aware of the man’s erection pressing into his groin.

Tyler showed his guest out and then returned to the dining room, slamming his hand against the light box and making the hologram vanish.

“I thought you wanted me to entertain him in the bedroom this evening.” Alex tried to make it sound like a gentle enquiry, not a criticism.

“He hasn’t earned you, yet.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Alex asked. “I only want to please.”

“You tell me. Fawning over him as if you actually like him. It’s an act, Alexander. I know it’s all an act. It’s not really you. We both know that.”

Alex’s belly somersaulted, although Tyler couldn’t really know that. He hadn’t given himself away.

“I’m trying to be what you want, sir,” he said softly. “If I’ve failed, please let me know how I can improve.”

“Oh, you’re doing everything perfectly. Too fucking perfectly. I refuse to believe you’ve changed so much,” Tyler ranted. “As for looking like your mother – you don’t. You’re nothing like her. She was perfect, and you’re nothing but Lytton scum.”

“You’re right.” Alex nodded. “I am. I’ve always been worthless. Mum tried her best with me, but I was selfish and self-absorbed, a bad apple. I’m trying to be better, though, sir. I really am.”

“You killed her,” Tyler accused, although the jibe lacked any bite as Alex had already admitted it.

“I know. And for that alone I deserve everything that’s happened to me since. I want to be useful to you, sir. I want to make up for what I’ve done in some small way. Please believe me, because it’s true.”

“Is it? It’s so hard to tell.” Tyler glared at him moodily. “And what about her ?” he asked in a different voice.

Alex froze. Her?

“You know who I mean,” Tyler snapped. “Solange.”

Alex took a moment to compose himself. Then he spoke softly and earnestly.

“I think about her, of course, but what happened to her wasn’t your fault.

I provoked you. You were at the end of your tether because of me.

You didn’t mean to hurt her. It was an accident, caused by my wilfulness. Please don’t blame yourself.”

Up until that moment he hadn’t been aware that Tyler did blame himself, but now he could see that truth staring starkly out of the other man’s troubled eyes.

“I’m not a killer. I was fond of her.”

“I know. We all were. It wasn’t your fault.” Alex wondered if he should go over to the man and comfort him. It stuck in his craw, but this wasn’t about him. Everything he did always had to be about Solange, and if absolving Tyler helped his cause, he’d do it.

“Oh, just get out. Go! ” Tyler roared, sparing him that dilemma at least. “I can’t stand the sight of you.”

Tiptoeing out of the room, he glanced back to see Tyler turning the hologram back on and gazing at it obsessively.

He was relieved to reach the peace and quiet of the suite. There had been a lot to process tonight, and the strain of allowing nothing to show on his face or in his body language had taken its toll.

He showered, changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt, and took himself off to the gym. An hour of very slow yoga and listening to his song on repeat was a help. His mind was racing but his face betrayed nothing as he went through the familiar, anchoring movements.

This was all so much more complicated than he’d imagined.

He’d built Tyler up in his head as a bogeyman, a black-and-white villain, and he hadn’t been prepared for these shades of grey.

Should he forgive the man? Release himself from his vow to Solange in light of Tyler’s obvious remorse?

No. His gut clenched. Yes, it would be easier, but Tyler’s guilty conscience was no reason to absolve him of responsibility.

If Tyler really felt guilty, he could give himself up to the authorities.

This changed nothing; he still had a mission to complete.

After Tyler’s outburst, he expected to be left alone for a while, but two days later, Andrew dressed him in a smart business suit and took him to the helipad on the top of the building, where Tyler was waiting for him.

“It’s Take Your Favourite IS To Work Day,” Tyler joked, and Alex couldn’t help laughing. There’d always been this side to Tyler that was funny, smart, and strong. Knowing he was also a vile human being didn’t change that.

“I’m very happy about that, sir,” he said as they climbed into the helicopter. The last time Tyler had taken him to his office had been one of the worst days of his life, so he tried to prepare himself mentally for another bad day.