Page 11 of Captured
Dimitri scowled. He hadn’t considered that. Rich people often had too much time on their hands. “Has he recently come into a lot of money, a lot of power? Things suddenly seeming to go his way? Or has his family been wealthy for awhile?”
“Henry? No.” Lauren’s absolute certainty didn’t seem manufactured. “He’s scraped and scrabbled to get to where he is—he’s known my family since I was a kid, and my dad in particular. The money he’s got, he’s made himself.”
Well, none of that tracked. Ordinarily, any minion of Typhon would be a pampered piece of shit. It’s how the god kept his acolytes close to him. Maybe Henry wasn’t as tight with the monster god as Dimitri had feared. It certainly would make his life easier.
He narrowed his gaze on Lauren, knowing it was time to ease back on the interrogation. “How are you feeling?”
“Remarkably well, actually.” She smiled, and Dimitri nearly lost his breath at the sight. Lauren Grant was pretty all the time, but she was heartbreaking when she smiled the way she was now, without art or intent. She reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear, then laid the back of her hand against her mouth, stifling a yawn. In that moment, she could have been any young woman, from any background, wrapped up in a blanket at a college sleepover.
Then, of course, she had to keep talking.
Her brow arched in a smug curve. “Are you seriously stuck being my babysitter tonight? Out of all the jobs in Oûros, that’s what they assigned you to?”
“You would be so lucky.” The words were out before he could stop them, and his movement seemed unstoppable as well. He leaned closer with a smooth, almost predatory shift, and the American’s hand froze mid-drop, her eyes fixed on him. “Tonight I was out and heard the commotion, and I thought to myself: who would be stupid enough to rouse up the locals at this bar that is usually so quiet, making them spend their hard-earned cash when ordinarily they are careful souls?”
As if remembering that her hand hung between them, she shifted it once more to her hair, then lowered it as she tried to back away from him, retreating more deeply into the plush cushions. “You must have been hearing something different than I did, then. The patrons of that establishment were already half-drunk when I got there. I never did catch up.”
“And may the gods help you if you did.” The anger was back, and he welcomed it. Anger he could understand, manage. Anger had purpose and form. And this woman definitely made him angry, he decided. That was the emotion coursing through him, he was certain of it.
She seemed to welcome it as well and leaned forward now, her lips inches from his. “You truly dislike me,” she said, her words a low purr. “What did I ever do to upset you so much?”
He held himself locked in place. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t waste my time being upset by people like you.”
“Mmm.” Like some sprite of the gods, she wouldn’t leave it alone. She moved forward another inch, and now her lips were brushing his, the warm, vital scent of her filling his senses. His entire body demanded that he take her, and Dimitri’s reality was narrowed down, focused on the tiny point where their mouths connected. “I wish you liked me more, though. I really do.”
She would have pressed forward, but Dimitri reacted to the sound almost before he could process what it was, who it was. He jerked straight and turned, rising to his feet and taking three strides across the floor before the petite dynamo of Nicole Clark burst into the room, her eyes bright and wide, her body practically quivering the way it always did, as if she was constantly high on caffeine.
“Lauren!” She burst out, hurrying forward. “My God, girl, what are you doing here? We’ve been worried about you. Did you go out—she went out, didn’t she? I knew she did.” Midsentence, Nicki transferred her gaze to Dimitri. “You had to fetch her.”
“No one had to ‘fetch’ me.” Dimitri turned back to the blonde, unsurprised that she’d also risen to her feet, the blanket thrust aside like garbage, her purse clutched to her side. “Dimitri was out and about, and was kind enough to walk me home.”
She nodded to him, but her eyes glittered with something he had seen before. Something that set every nerve ending alive with anticipation. She was using his attraction for her to distract him, but in doing so she’d betrayed her own interest all too clearly…
Lauren Grant was desperately trying to hide something.
He intended to find out what.
Seven
“We can’t stay cooped up in the palace forever, right?” Nicki sat forward with her elbows on her knees, swiveling her gaze between the ocean and Lauren. “I mean, seriously. This isn’t some sort of weird time warp that we’ll never get out of?”
The following morning had the three of them—Lauren, Nicki, and Fran—sitting out on the veranda, a wide covered porch allowing full view of the glorious Aegean Sea without any aerial vantage point for dive-bombing media drones to take their picture. In this moment, Lauren could almost believe they weren’t once again trapped at the home of one of the most photographed royal families in all Europe, but simply enjoying the gracious back patio of a family friend. A family friend who wasn’t a psychopath, anyway.
“We’ll be leaving for good in a few days, I expect,” she said, with a confidence she didn’t feel. “Now that she’s spent two weeks alone with him, Emmaline is almost sure that Kristos isn’t a dream, but I think she’ll need to return to America and then come back before she totally believes this all isn’t a mirage.”
“It’s so not a mirage.” Fran smiled as she set down her glass of orange juice. “Never mind that she’s out with the queen thismorning visiting on some sort of morning rounds, like we’re back in Regency England or something. Every time Kristos looks at her, his entire soul is in his eyes. He must know how skeptical she is deep inside. How much she assumes this is a story that simply must come to an end.”
“If he does, then he’s very perceptive.” Lauren peered skeptically at Fran. “You haven’t been shrinking him, have you? Without his knowledge?”
“I don’t shrink people.” Fran’s eye roll didn’t quite mask the edge in her voice. “Right now, I’m not licensed to do anything but sit around and read about the work Ishouldbe doing instead of being on permanent vacation. Just because I have a conversation with a guy doesn’t mean I’m trying to crawl into his brain.”
“Right.” Nicki’s derisive voice echoed Lauren’s, and Lauren looked at her, startled, as they both broke into laughter. They all hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year, only a few times since they graduated college, and yet they’d so quickly fallen back into their old patterns from school that it was almost eerie. Emmaline the caretaker, Nicki the adventurer, Fran the voice of reason, and Lauren…
She didn’t know what she brought to the table, honestly. Her money, certainly, but that had never seemed to be a big deal to the others. And it wasn’thermoney anyway—it was her family’s, and it had strings. So sure, she was going to spend it when the opportunity arose. But what else bound her so closely to these women? What bound anyone?
This was veering into Fran territory. Fran, who now was regarding her with that sense of “knowingness” that was so unnerving. “So, what’s bothering you anyway?” Fran asked. “I mean, beyond your general ennui at all the opulence surrounding us.” She grinned and waved, clearly trying to easeLauren’s tension while she continued her delicate inquisition. “Did your parents call again? Your sister?”
“No, thank God.” Lauren warred with herself briefly over what to say to them about Henry’s unexpected “gift.” They needed to know—something. If only to protect themselves. She’d learned the hard way that withholding information left people vulnerable to attack from the most unexpected of quarters. Attack they weren’t always able to withstand. But she didn’t want to make too much of Henry Smithson. He had enough people making too much of him.