Final Cost (The Winter Trilogy #3)

18. Tamsyn

18

Tamsyn

Lucien doesn’t hear me when I come into his study two nights later, which is no surprise. He’s been distracted since the police were here the other day. Distracted with meetings morning to night. Distracted by the rumors of an imminent arrest and a grand jury.

The walls are closing in. Time is running out.

His mood reflects it. He sits in his leather chair by the fireplace in his shirtsleeves, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting on his fisted hands as he folds and unfolds his fingers. He stares at something remote that only he can see, his face downturned, his jaw tight and his expression shadowed. He’s every bit the forbidding man I met that day in the departures lane at LaGuardia. He’s a study in concentration. Or plotting. A man like this is not the kind of person you want to approach. I hesitate on the threshold, wondering if I should come back again in a few minutes.

Maybe my churning thoughts are too loud, because he suddenly looks up, his expression softening when he sees me. That gives me just the encouragement I need. “Hey,” I say.

“Hey.” His expression clears a bit more. Not all the way to a smile, though. I get the feeling that the last two days have been so tough that he’s forgotten how. “Come in.”

“Not sure if I should,” I say, heading straight to him. I’ve got a sudden urge to smooth the hair away from his temples. It’s all ruffled, a sure sign he’s been running his hands over his head in frustration. “I hate to interrupt your scheming. You look like you’re playing 3-D chess in your mind.”

A flash of a smile. “Just planning. Come here.”

We reach for each other. He gives me just enough time to smooth his hair and kiss his forehead before he reels me all the way in, his arms, circling my waist with all the tenderness in the world and unyielding strength. Basically like two iron clamps encased in velvet. He murmurs something indistinct, pressing his face to my neck for a good long nuzzle. We stay like that for a minute, both eager to steal this little slice of heaven from yet another difficult day. Then it’s over. He lets me go and sits back in his chair, his sudden businesslike demeanor filling me with dread.

“We need to talk,” he says, gesturing me to the chair nearest his.

I sit and wait. The massive lump newly wedged at the base of my throat prevents me from saying anything.

“The police have me on video driving near the beach the night Ravenna died.” His gaze slides away from mine as he settles his elbows on his knees again. “I didn’t mention to them before that I was that close to the area.”

I hesitate. I want to reassure him, but my thoughts are spinning too hard as I try to come up to speed. “So… You, what? Lied to the police?”

“Nothing like that,” he says, blowing out a breath as he shakes his head. “I didn’t remember everywhere I went that night.”

My heart sinks. That’s not the kind of reassurance I’d hoped to hear right now. “You’re not the kind of man who doesn’t remember things, Lucien.”

Self-deprecating smile. “I disagree. When I’m missing you and you’re all I can think about. With the way I was feeling when you were gone? It’s a wonder I kept the car on the road at all.”

My heart melts into a gooey mess. What am I supposed to do with that ? “So it’s my fault you didn’t tell the police the truth?”

“Not at all,” he says. “I take full responsibility for my actions. But I have a question: do you remember everything you did when we were apart?”

He’s got me there. It was only a few days, but they were the longest of my life. They passed in a blur of tears, anger, and bittersweet memories. “Touché.”

“I know it doesn’t look good, but I have some irons in the fire.”

“Like…? I could definitely use some good news.”

“I have a call out to Ravenna’s doctor from her hospital stay. I’m waiting for him to call me back. I’m hoping he might reveal something else about her state of mind. Something that might help us.”

“Yeah, but didn’t he refuse to speak to you?” I say, frowning. “Because of Ravenna’s right to medical privacy?”

“Yeah. She told him not to speak to me. Which suggests she had something to hide from me. I’m not sure if that doctor-patient privilege still applies now that she’s dead,” he says. “It’s worth a shot. Plus, my investigator is still trying to find Winwood. So are the police. I can’t shake the feeling that this whole thing hangs on him.”

“Any leads?” I ask hopefully.

His somber expression as he shakes his head says it all. “I’m running out of time, Tamsyn. The walls are closing in.”

This scares me worse than anything else that’s happened. Lucien isn’t the type to admit defeat or even the possibility of defeat. “Don’t say that.”

Wry smile. “I haven’t given up yet. Like I said, I’ve been doing some planning. That’s what I want to talk to you about. It involves you so I need to bring you up to speed. I know how you feel about me doing things behind your back. Please note that I’ve learned my lesson on that count.”

“Noted,” I say. “You get full marks for being a changed man.”

“Thank God.”

“So…?”

“I changed my will,” he says quietly. “You’re my sole heir.”

I sit there in a stunned silence while this information tries to penetrate my brain. Whatever I’d expected, it wasn’t that . “What? Why would you do that? You’re not going to die, Lucien.”

A muscle pulses in the back of his jaw as though he’s clenching his teeth. “If I get arrested, anything goes in jail.”

My overwrought brain immediately fills with nightmare images of Lucien being cornered in the shower or ganged up on while playing basketball or some such. My blood turns to ice. “But you said your lawyers would protect you,” I say, fear making my voice pitch higher. “You said you were paying them a lot of money to keep you out of jail.”

He holds up a hand to calm me down, but it’s too late for that. “I’m not going to some cushy federal jail. I’ll be in a local facility where a man with my money will be a target. I need to face facts.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Listen, Tamsyn,” he says with new urgency, taking my hand for a tight squeeze. “I want you to have it. Everything I have is yours.”

“I don’t need it,” I cry. I shake my head and keep shaking it. I’m rejecting the money, yeah, but mostly I’m rejecting the idea of Lucien dying. Ever. “The money belongs to Roman. He’s your family. I know you always worry about me not having money, but I don’t need it. I’m a nurse now. I’ll have a great salary when I start my job in the fall.”

A glimmer of amusement. “I knew you’d say that. But if I ran a contest of who doesn’t need the money the most, let’s go ahead and declare Roman the winner. I’m leaving him my share of Ackerley, but you get everything else.”

“But what about a charity?—”

“It’s done, Tamsyn,” he says with awful finality.

I pull free and run my hands through my hair, reeling from this unspeakable generosity and my sudden reversal of fortune. He’s leaving me billions of dollars. Just like that. And there are things I know I could do with money like that. Charities for children, animals or, I don’t know, research for rare cancers. Hell, I could start my own charity. But every ounce of my body and soul feels sick at the idea. And I’m still shaking my head. “I don’t want money, Lucien. I want you .”

A sudden glow lights his face as he stares at me. Then he takes my hand again and kisses my palm, his lips lush, warm and unbearably tender. “Don’t misunderstand,” he says when he raises his head. “I’ve got people to help you manage it. And I’m not going without a fight.”

“Good.”

“Brace yourself. There’s more.”

“Oh, God.”

He hesitates. I get the feeling he’s choosing his words with extreme care. “Mrs. Hooper’s brownstone. It’s yours. I bought it for you. You have to know that.”

My jaw drops and stays dropped. My heart, meanwhile, threatens to pound out of my chest wall. This kind of wealth — this kind of generosity — doesn’t compute in my middle-class brain, where I can barely afford my upcoming rental payments of $2300/month and the most extravagant purchase I’ve ever made for myself is a few random clothing items here and there. “What? I don’t know that! I didn’t think it was for me. If anything, I thought you were buying it as a two-fer.”

“A two-fer?”

“ Yes . To add to your real estate portfolio, like you said, and to look good by doing something nice for Mrs. Hooper. So I’d stop hating you so much and give you another chance.”

“Forget all that. I don’t need more real estate. I need peace of mind. If something happens to me, you’ll need a place to live. Especially with Ackerley going to Roman. And if I go to jail, but don’t die, you’ll still need a place —”

“I don’t need a place. I keep telling you, I have an apartment starting in the fall.”

“Nope,” he says, and there’s that unyielding finality again. “You need a permanent home so you never have to wonder where you’ll go next. Ever again in your life. No matter what happens to me. Or to you and me. You’ll have a home for the rest of your life.”

“But —”

“And I’m setting up a trust to generate income for upkeep and taxes. So you’ll never have to worry about that.”

Oh, God. He’s thought of everything. Words hang in the air for several long eternities because I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Who knows what the final cost of all this is. I know it’s nothing to him, but it’s as priceless as all the contents of the Louvre to me. “I can’t accept it, Lucien.”

“Please.” He squeezes my hand again, his voice gruff now. “Do it as a favor to me. I can provide this for you. It’s the one thing I can do for you no matter what happens next. Help me out here. So I can rest easy.”

His gaze holds mine, and it’s all right there. His love for me. His need to protect me no matter what and to make sure I’m taken care of for the rest of my life. His absolute determination. Worst of all? His raw fear that we’ll be robbed of our future together. Or that I’ll rob him of his peace of mind by saying no .

“No one’s ever been this generous with me before,” I say, getting choked up at the end.

A strangled laugh. “Good. If some other man had given you a house, I’d have to find him and kill him. And then I would go to jail.”

We grin at each other. None of this is a laughing matter, but it’s enough to break the tension.

“I’m trying to imagine Mrs. Hooper’s face when she finds out that I’m the proud new owner her of her house,” I say.

More grinning. Until his phone buzzes. He whips it out of his pocket and frowns at the display. “This is the doctor calling me back,” he says, standing and striding away. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

“Go. I understand.”

He heads to the far corner of the room, leaving me to daydream about my sudden home ownership. How does this work? Do I need a plumber now? An electrician? What about furniture? Maybe I should rent it out as an Air B & B and or some such?—

Lucien comes back, his face thunderous as he resumes his seat. “Bad news.”

I’m at the point where I don’t even wait for dread to flood my body. It’s just all dread, all the time. “What now?”

He roughly rubs his hands over the top of his head, spiking his hair again. “The doctor says the police subpoenaed him, so he talked to them earlier today. Told them what Ravenna told him. Which was that she was afraid of me.” His lips twist. “That I’d hit her before and she was afraid I’d hurt her again. She told him that was why she didn’t want him sharing her medical records with me.”

Sudden outrage threatens to gag me. “Oh, my God. You need to call your lawyer right now and let him know so he can —”

He cuts me off by making an impatient sound and reaching for my hand again. “Marry me.”

My heart stops. In a night full of shockers, this is the absolute cherry on top. “What?”

“We could fly to Vegas tonight and do it.”

“But… You’re not allowed to travel, Lucien. The police told you not to go anywhere.”

An I don’t give a fuck shrug. “Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

“But… Why ?”

He gives me a swift look of adoration. “Because I want you to be my wife. And I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be a free man. This may be our only chance to do it.”

“Don’t say that.” Rising panic makes my voice shrill. “Even if you get arrested, you’ll get bail. Your lawyers won’t let you stay in jail. You’ve been telling me that this whole time.”

“I’m not counting on that,” he says grimly. “I’m a flight risk with my resources. The money. The jet. The yacht. The overseas homes. I’m hopeful, but bail may be a long shot for me.”

God, I feel shaky. It’s a good thing I’m already sitting down. My trembling knees would never carry my body weight right now. This is all too head-spinning to absorb. “You want to marry me?”

There’s that adoration again. “I want you to be my wife. Bottom line. But …” He sobers. Drops his gaze and clears his throat. “Full disclosure. There’s another reason for us to get married.”

I feel cold suddenly. Wooden. “What is it?”

“If we’re married, you’ll never have to testify against me.”

I blink, my heart lurching. So there it is. His ulterior motive. He doesn’t want to marry me just for me. I should have known that things with Lucien would always be more complicated than that. “I see.”

“Don’t look at me like that.” He leans in to nail me between the eyes with all his smoldering intensity. “Everything I just said about wanting to marry you is true. But you are a witness. The police will call you to testify against me.”

“Because you threatened Ravenna the night you kicked her out, you mean?”

“That. And everything else that happened that night. How angry I was that she tried to impersonate you with your perfume so she could seduce me.”

“Right,” I say dully. “And all of that gives you more of a motive to kill her.”

He gives me a sharp look, eyes narrowing. “What the fuck?” he says, and there’s no hiding his dismay. “You do think I killed her. This is why you said I only had ninety-eight percent of your trust the other day. You think me wanting to marry you is another manipulation.”

“No,” I say, but it’s halfhearted at best. We both know it. “We still haven’t known each other that long yet, Lucien. This is all such a whirlwind.”

A disbelieving look. “Ms. Scott. Our entire relationship has been a whirlwind. Why should our marriage be any different?”

“I don’t know,” I say helplessly. “I don’t know what to do.”

His expression softens. He reaches into his other pocket and produces — oh, God, it’s a black velvet ring box.

“What are you doing with that ?” I cry.

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’ve been walking around with it since you came back to Ackerley. I was always going ask you. It was only a matter of time.”

And he opens the box with a tiny creak, revealing an emerald cut diamond with baguettes that look so perfectly clear, it’s like a spectacular ice cube. “It was my mother’s,” he says softly.

I press a hand to my heart, undone. You can’t tell me that he didn’t steal that thing from Mariah Carey’s safe. “I can’t wear a ring like that ,” I say. “It’s too much for me.”

“When you’re wrong, you’re wrong, Ms. Scott. It’s nowhere near good enough for you. Say yes .”

I open my mouth, filled with sudden sweeping joy. I see it all in that moment. Life here at Ackerley with Lucien. Holidays. Travel. Horseback riding. Endless fun. Kids. I feel the sweetest ache in my heart at the thought of Lucien’s kids. But there are also shadows across my heart and Ravenna’s sly voice inside my head. Don’t trust yourself. Your instincts are bad when it comes to him. He will never change. You can’t trust him. He will hurt you in the end. And I know I’ve forgiven him, but I can’t help but remember how brutally and unexpectedly he dumped me. I never saw it coming and never knew what hit me. I open my mouth, wanting to say yes . But nothing comes out and the excruciating silence goes on forever.

That’s more than enough answer.

Lucien looks stricken as he slowly lowers the ring box. That’s when his phone buzzes. But we’re both locked in on each other, frozen. All through the first buzz…the second buzz…the third…

He finally blinks, snaps out of it, checks the display, curses and hits the button. “What is it, Gray?”

Oh, God. His lawyer. I sit up straighter, praying it’s good news?—

“Got it.” Lucien listens, his face turning to stone and losing all its color. Then he tosses the phone aside without another word, his gaze flicking back to me. He opens his mouth, but it’s operating on a lengthy delay. He clearly doesn’t want to tell me what’s happened any more than I want to hear it. “The police are on their way to arrest me for Ravenna’s murder.”