Page 28 of Until She's Mine
“No. Tobias doesn’t like to linger here longer than necessary.”
Lucian hums. “A shame. The estate has a history. Secrets, even. Things you might find interesting.”
I look at him then. “Will you share those secrets with me?”
“Only you.” He pushes off the counter. My breath catches as he reaches out, his fingers brushing against a strand of hair that’s escaped from behind my ear. His touch is feather-light. “You’re always so careful,” he murmurs. “So composed. But I wonder… what would it take to make you unravel?”
I open my mouth to respond when the sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway. Lucian steps back, his expression shifting into one of polite neutrality as Helena sweeps into the kitchen.
“Darling, I’ve heard you talking with som—” She stops mid-sentence, her sharp gaze darting between Lucian and me. “Evelyn! What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here today.”
“Helena,” I say, my voice steady despite the way my pulse still races from Lucian’s nearness. “I brought the cake samples for Tobias, but it seems he’s unavailable.”
“Ah, yes. Geneva.” Her perfectly penciled eyebrows arch, and a saccharine sweet smile curves her lips. “Well, since you’re here, you might as well stay for dinner. Lucian, darling, why don’t you show Evelyn to the dining room? I’ll have Marta set an extra plate.”
Lucian inclines his head. “Of course, Mother.”
Helena’s gaze lingers on me for a moment longer, her smile sharpening at the edges before she turns and sweeps out of the kitchen with the same imperious grace she entered with.
“Shall we?” Lucian extends his arm, his tone deceptively light.
I hesitate, my fingers tightening around the hem of my cardigan. “Lucian…”
He waits, patient and still as a predator poised to strike. When I don’t continue, he steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
“Should I be?”
“That depends on whether you’re brave enough to find out,” he says and steps back, his arm still extended in that gentlemanly gesture.
I take his arm, my eyes dropping to the black lines of his tattoo peeking from beneath his cuff as we walk. The design is intricate, almost hypnotic, but I can’t quite make sense of it. It’s a secret waiting to be unraveled, much like the man himself.
The dining room is a large space, dominated by a long mahogany table that could easily seat thirty people. Crystalchandeliers cast a soft, golden glow over the room, their light catching on the gilded frames of more Blackwood portraits.
The dining room and the ballroom are the only spaces I frequent when I visit with Tobias.
Lucian pulls out a chair for me, his hand brushing lightly against my shoulder as I sit. The touch is deliberate, lingering just a moment too long. He takes the seat to my right, close enough that our arms could graze if either of us shifted.
God, this dinner is going to be the longest of my life.
Chapter 14
Lucian
My parents are not the nicest people at the best of times, and tonight is far from one of those days.
After the main course, Father sits at the head of the table, his expression carved from stone, while Mother flutters about like a bird of prey, her sharp eyes missing nothing. The absence of Tobias’s easy, brainless chatter leaves a heavy silence in its wake.
Evelyn sits to my left, her posture graceful even as her fingers twist the napkin in her lap. She’s trying to appear calm, but I can see her pulse beating at the base of her throat, a tiny betrayal of her unease. It’s fascinating how someone so composed can still be so transparent to me. Or maybe I’ve learned to read her in ways others haven’t.
Mother begins with her usual barrage of questions, each one laced with subtle barbs meant to test Evelyn’s mettle. “So, Evelyn, how is your work coming along? Tobias mentionedyou’re considering leaving the museum to take care of him and your new home after the wedding.”
Evelyn’s smile doesn’t waver, though her fingers tighten around the edge of her napkin. “I haven’t made any decision yet. Art restoration is my passion, and I’d like to continue working.”
I clear my throat. “Mother, how about the cake samples Evelyn brought? I believe it’s waiting for dessert.”
“Ah, yes. Let’s not forget the cake. Marta, if you would?”
Marta nods and disappears into the kitchen, returning with the cake boxes on a silver tray. The tension in the room shifts, a temporary reprieve from Mother’s probing questions. Evelyn exhales softly, and her shoulders relax.
