Chapter 17
17
May 26, 1976
Dear Diary:
Sebastian is back in my life after I told him we needed a break. Well, perhaps a break is putting it mildly... The last time we were together was in London. I’d said some nasty things to him, told him I’d outgrown him. The jobs he’d wanted to pull were pedestrian and two-bit. All jewelry, nothing of real substance. I know I hurt him.
Tonight he appeared at a gala, looking like sin after a year. When I saw him, I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Hell would have been a better option than seeing that man. However, I couldn’t leave. Not after all the work it took to hunt down a ticket for the damn event. It had taken me months to cozy up to Manhattan’s high society. Yes, working with Sebastian is a lot easier, but I need to do this for myself.
I spotted him instantly. Smooth talking an elderly widow dripping with diamonds. He was absolutely shameless as he flirted with her. When he saw me, he actually smirked. Unfortunately, I was so beside myself that I marched right up to him, ready to set him out. He was quicker, though. Rather than letting me make a fool of myself in the middle of the party, he took me by the arm and dragged me to a coatroom.
What I’m about to write...both baffles me and gives me great shame... We kissed amid minks, foxes and chinchillas. He whispered crass things in my ear as he touched me, making me want to forget about our break. I kissed him back, ready to lose myself to him in a coat closet. Of all places. God, I wanted him so badly. We didn’t stop necking until I thought I heard a voice from outside the small space. I pushed him away and fled before he had a chance to muss my hair and makeup.
It wasn’t until I revived myself with a drink that I realized he had left with my three-strand Tahitian pearl necklace. I’m so furious right now, I can barely hold this pen steady as I write. He stole it for me years ago and now he’s taken it back. For what? So I can come to him? He’s a child. But dammit, I really want that necklace back. I wanted to wear it for the university president’s dinner... This is exactly what Sebastian wants. If I go to his penthouse, there’s no guarantee I won’t just fall into his bed, picking up right where we left off. Good Lord, Doris...get yourself together.
Celeste ended that journal entry with a smile on her face. If she was Dr. Grant’s bestie back in the seventies, she would have sat up with her and laughed about how to get back at her boyfriend. Perhaps planned a quick heist for her necklace. On one level, Doris’s story about Sebastian stealing her pearl necklace was humorous. With all Dr. Grant had stolen over the years, surely one necklace was just a drop in the bucket.
But on another, more primal level, one filled with trauma and desperate want, Celeste could see the loss of one piece of jewelry as something larger. A man like Sebastian could never quite understand. Or maybe he did, and he wanted to wield that power over Doris. She pondered the entry, wondering if this was still the kind of man they’d meet. How would he react to the news of Doris’s passing? Beatrice was still searching the dark web for any presence of Sebastian in Tallinn, and Celeste had no doubt they’d find something soon.
Speaking of Beatrice, she had to slip out of the girl’s bed with a spare blanket and pillow because she couldn’t sleep for her life. Bea tossed and turned until she stole all the covers and turned herself into a human burrito. When Celeste angrily sat up to look at her, the young woman’s long-discarded satin bonnet lay on the pillow beside her face, while she murmured in her sleep.
Celeste wasn’t sure what to make of this entry; she just knew that she was now suddenly thirsty. That evening they had takeout from the only restaurant that was still open, and the burger and fries she had were too salty. She folded the corner of Doris’s diary page and placed the book next to a table lamp before leaving the couch.
As she moved quietly through the first floor to the kitchen, she memorized the layout in the dark as she would museum blueprints. It was a weird little habit she’d developed from working with Doris, but it helped her feel more secure in strange places. It was a skill she wished she’d had in the Harrison Home, where the night felt so foreign and alienating.
In the dark, she found a glass and ran the tap until the water was ice-cold over her fingers. While she waited was when she heard the noise. An odd shuffling behind her that hadn’t been there minutes before. A prickling awareness lifted the hairs on the backs of her arms and on her neck as she tuned her ears. Celeste held her body still, pretending that she was only getting water, and waited for the danger to approach her.
When it sounded a little too close, she whipped around and struck out with the heel of her hand. She connected with a jaw or a chin, she wasn’t certain, but she heard the blow land and the person grunt in pain.
“The fuck?”
Celeste let out a sigh of relief and annoyance. It was just Magnus... “What are you doing here?”
He stumbled a couple steps back and held his face. In the dark, she couldn’t tell how hard the blow landed but she knew she came at her would-be attacker with everything she had. Thank God she hadn’t hit Lawrence.
“I was coming to get something to drink, you psycho.”
“I thought someone had broken into the house,” she whisper-hissed. “Why are you skulking around a mansion like some fucking gothic ghost?”
“I needed. A glass. Of water,” he ground out. “I didn’t realize I was skulking.”
She heard how paranoid she must have sounded. In an unfamiliar house where she thought all the occupants were asleep, she really thought someone had crossed through the secure gate and made it through the back door. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Magnus moved past her to retrieve his own glass. “And why are you still up?”
“I also needed something to drink,” she mumbled. “Salty dinner.”
“What a terrifying concept,” he said dryly.
She reached up to touch his jaw. “Are you okay? Did I get you bad?”
Magnus let her fingers touch his chin before replying. “I’ll live,” he said. She released him when he tipped his head back to take a gulp. “What were you doing in the living room?”
“I was reading Dr. Grant’s diary to make myself sleepy.”
“Can’t sleep with Bea?”
“Bea really shouldn’t sleep with anyone,” Celeste said, smiling in the dark. She finished filling her cup and felt instant relief with cold water washing over her tongue. She drank until she got her fill and set her glass on the counter. “She stole my covers and kicked me a couple times with those long legs of hers.”
“So, we’re both getting battered tonight,” Magnus said, leaning against the counter. They were only inches away from one another and she could feel it even in the blanket of darkness.
“I’ll live,” she said.
“You could come to my room.”
“You shouldn’t make a habit of begging me to come to your room,” she countered. Though a bed might be more comfortable than the couch. For however many nights they might be in Estonia.
He slid closer until all she could see was his shadowy figure before her. The scent of cedar and spice filled her nose and made her lean forward. It seemed to unlock some long-buried memories of hotter times with Magnus. That cologne could always make her unravel. Leave her undone. Panting for more.
“I would share my blankets with you,” he murmured.
“Why are you so insistent on getting me into your bed?” she asked.
“Why do you insist on avoiding it?” Magnus asked. She swore she could hear that smirk. “Have you forgotten what it was like to blow off a little steam before a big job? It was helpful for both of us...”
Oh, God, she had not. In fact, they blew off steam after a big job as well. While she remembered, Magnus moved to her front, pinning her against the cabinet behind her. He was shirtless tonight, wearing only thin pajama bottoms that did nothing to hide the hot club between his thighs.
Celeste took a deep breath, unfortunately inhaling more of his intoxicating scent. She reached out and laid her hand against his ribs. She felt the rise and fall of each breath he took as he stood over her and grew wistful for the sexual play they’d had years ago. She never wanted to admit it, but she enjoyed running roughshod over his plans when they were in the field so that she could feel his dominance in the bedroom. Celeste loved that dynamic...when it worked.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” she breathed.
“There’s nothing I can do to tempt you?” he asked.
He was tempting her plenty, as it was, but he kicked it up a notch by touching her back, brushing his hands down her sides until they fell to her hips. She wore slightly more than he did, a pair of gym shorts and a baggy T-shirt.
“What do you have for me?” Celeste asked, knowing she was playing with fire. In the back of her mind, she thought of Doris and Sebastian and their necking in a coat closet. The overwhelming urges that her mentor must have had but tried to deny herself. If she let Magnus pleasure her, what would he end up taking?
Without words, his fingers dipped inside the waistband of her shorts and panties. In seconds, he found her wet, clenching pussy and slipped between her folds. She gasped as he wet his fingers and rubbed her clit with her juices. The motion was barely perceptible in the dark, but the sensations nearly halted her breath.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed that gasp,” he whispered as he leaned forward, trapping his hand between their pelvises. “I remember it turning into a moan, then a plea and then a desperate whimper.”
She squeezed her thighs around his hand in response. If she spoke...she’d surely embarrass herself with senseless pleas. And she couldn’t have that. Celeste wanted to wrench pleasure from him without giving him her words.
“Talk to me, Celeste,” he quietly commanded in her ear. His finger dipped into her slick channel, slowly pumping in and out a few times before sliding back to her swollen clit.
She swiftly took him by the back of the neck and buried her face into his bare chest. Only he could pull this out of her, drawing volatile waves of pleasure. Her legs shook as she struggled to stand; her grip on his neck tightened. “You’re such...a prick,” she panted.
He sped up the movement of his finger while softly chuckling. “You loved this prick. And I loved giving it to you. Over and over...and over. Until you tightened around me and screamed my name. Until you fell asleep on my chest. Until you finally knew what true peace meant.”
Goddamn him. Her body betrayed her in the most wicked way. His one finger did what most men couldn’t accomplish with their entire being. “Please,” she whispered, hanging on the fringes of ecstasy.
“Please, what?” he asked, continuing his relentless stroking. “Would you like me to get you off now?”
Celeste nodded. “Yes.”
“Good girl... I like it when you’re polite.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and lost it completely when he covered her mouth with his own. His rough kiss, skilled fingers and that arrogant comment completely unraveled her. Spirals of electricity curled throughout her body, radiating outward, making her weak and needy. She squeezed herself against him and whimpered his name tightly as pleasure washed over her.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “That’s it...” His vigorous ministrations soon eased to a slow, languid stroke through her folds.
She tried not to completely collapse in his arms as every shudder racked her body, but Celeste was damn near a limp noodle after her orgasm. She held fast, though, planting both hands on his chest to create the illusion of space between them. “Okay, okay,” she breathed.
He pulled his hand from her pants and licked his fingers clean. She heard him even though she couldn’t see him in the dark kitchen. That simple action made her shockingly aroused all over again. “Go to bed, CeCe.”
She panted as she pushed away from him.
Celeste had taken what she needed from him even though she wanted to keep punishing him for something she could barely remember. She’d begged him to touch her when she wanted to keep him in the past where he belonged.
And then he dismissed her.
She stopped in the kitchen entrance and turned to his silhouette. A sliver of moonlight filtered through the window above the sink, revealing his shadowed form gripping the counter behind him. His chest was still heaving.
“We can’t do this again,” she said in a shaky voice.
He chuckled darkly. “I hope you sleep well.”
Good God, she hated him for that.
He always knew she slept her best after a good fucking.