Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle) (40 page)

“Let’s just go home, shall we?”
He wanted to fix this, to take it back, to undo it all so that there was no
death. But here, always, everywhere, there were signs of death, more death. He
couldn’t breathe, it stifled so.

“It was poachers.”

“Yes.” The bullet in the skull,
splinters of bone, another dark eye just above the eye that was no longer
there, just an eye socket.

“Why would they kill it and not
take it?”

“It was too close to the house.
They didn’t want to risk being caught for such a small deer.” He could not take
his eyes off of the body.
Was this what Clare looked like now?
Worms and
decay, the hair still untouched. He shook the thought to get it out of his
head, but it lingered, hovering over his conscious thoughts like a dark
messenger he couldn’t ignore.

“Then why would they kill it?”

“For fun.”

Brynn looked back once at the
dead fawn, and for the first time Eliot saw hatred on her face, knotting her
features sharply in a grimacing frown. She pulled away from Eliot and stood
alone. A small shudder ran through her limbs, and she pressed her lips tightly
together.

“I don’t…I don’t understand
people sometimes,” she said.

Eliot wanted to reach out and
take her into his arms, but he could not. Impotent to assuage her, he waited
until she turned and then helped her down the snowbank. They walked silently
back to the house, and Eliot closed the door behind them, locking out the snow.

The
next morning I woke earlier than Eliot and dressed in my new warm clothes.
Venturing outside, I stayed well within the immediate grounds, hoping to avoid
repeating the shock of yesterday
’s discovery. My dreams had tossed
me through the night in fitful starts, filled with images of death—deer
skulls and rotting corpses, and a man hooded in black.

To my surprise, Eliot emerged
only a few minutes after me. His breath left white puffs in the air as he
trampled through the snow-beaten trails to where I stood among the low garden
hedges.

“I brought bread,” he said. He
held out a fist of crumpled crust, and I must have looked at him like he was
crazy, because he burst out laughing.

“Not for you,” he said. “For the
birds.”

“What birds?” I looked around.
Earlier I’d heard chirping from the hedges, but now the grounds were silent. In
the middle of the gardens, scattered in places, were large stone bird baths,
but there were no birds in sight.

“Hold on,” he said. “They’ll
come.”

Pursing his lips, he let
out a high whistle, and threw a few crumbs into the air. I looked around.

“I think the birds are all
asleep,” I said.

“Ye of little faith,” he said.
He whistled again, and again threw a piece of bread into the air. My hand
shaded my eyes and I watched as a small bird darted up from inside of one of
the hedges and caught the bread in midair.

“Ha! Did you see that?” Eliot’s
face shone delightedly.

I threw bread in the air,
coaxing a few more of the small birds to come out.

“What are they?”

“Wrens, I think,” Eliot said. He
scattered bread on the ground, and soon the air was filled with the whirring
wings of the birds stealing crusts from each other.

“Can I have some more?” I said,
turning to Eliot.

“Here.” He took my hand, and I
tried not to blush as his fingers touched my wrist. He held my hand out in
front of me, toward the wrens, and placed a few crusts in my palm.

“Be very steady,” he whispered,
and I blushed. His body was so close to mine; even through my coat I thought I
could feel his heat.

The birds, at first wary, soon
realized that we were nothing to fear. A small wren with eyes like tiny black
beads flew up and landed on my outstretched finger.

“It doesn’t weigh anything!” I
said. Its tiny claws scrabbled at my fingers for hold, tickling me into
giggles. The wren pecked a crumb from my hand and flew away, but was soon back.
So were a half-dozen other wrens, all vying for attention and crust on my palm.
I could have squealed in excitement but I didn’t want to scare away the little
birds. Soon all of the bread was gone.

“Do you have any more bread?” I
turned to Eliot; he had an odd expression on his face that fled the moment he met
my eyes.

“Sorry, no more.”

I held out my empty hand anyway,
and a larger bird flew up to my hand. It had red alongside its head and tail
feathers, but when it realized my palm had no food, it beat its wings and in
one swift motion rose in the air and away.

“It’s good luck to see a jay.”
Eliot said, and we both watched the bird flap its way toward the woods. “It
means spring is coming early.”

“I can’t wait,” I said.

“Not a fan of the cold?”

“I just want to see what it
looks like here in springtime.” I motioned towards the woods. “It must be
beautiful.”

“Very,” Eliot said. I turned my
head up toward his and touched his shoulder lightly.

“I’d like to go visit the
cemetery on…Fiumei, I think?” I wasn’t sure how to pronounce the road.

“Oh?” Eliot’s face had gone
still, empty. “Why’s that?”

I withdrew my hand quickly,
flushing. Despite his touch earlier, he must not want me to get closer. “I have
family buried there.”

“Of course, yes. I’ll have Marta
take you.” He stepped away from me and glanced toward the house. “I’m not sure
if she’ll have time today, but perhaps later.”

Surprised by the cold and
distant tone his words had taken, I withdrew as well. No more touches, no more
meaningful looks. I let myself look over at him as we walked toward the house,
but his gaze was fixed firmly to the snowy path beneath his feet.

Very well. I was here to do
math, not to flirt. Eliot had made that perfectly clear.

“She’s
your guest!”

“She’s a student, Otto. The only
reason I’m letting her stay—”

“Is because your landlady hasn’t
repaired the heaters? I’m sure that’s why you let the young girl sleep with
you.” The voice boomed through the phone, and Eliot glanced around guiltily, as
though Brynn might hear.

“We aren’t sleeping together,”
Eliot said.

“Pity! Marta tells me she’s a
beauty with a good head on her shoulders, if a bit rubenesque.”

Eliot seethed unexpectedly at
Otto’s description.

“You haven’t any idea what
you’re talking about.”

“I know you could do worse.
Marta adores her, have I told you that?”

“It’s out of the question.” But
now that his brother had brought up the idea, Eliot shifted uncomfortably where
he stood. Hadn’t he fallen for Brynn from the start? But she had come to work
as a student, and he couldn’t in good conscience put her in such an awkwardly
difficult spot. Suppose she didn’t care for him? Suppose she did, and then they
argued and broke apart. Apart from being irresponsible, he felt frightened at
the thought of losing her.

“Eliot, you’re incorrigible.”

“Actually, I was wondering if
Marta would take her around tomorrow morning. She wants to see a few things,
the Fiumei cemetery, and I’m rather busy with work.” Eliot pressed his lips
together. His work had stalled again; he simply didn’t want to go back to that
graveyard. Not so soon. Soon? It had been ten years, but it felt too early to
go back. He closed his eyes and saw the white rose petals falling.

“The Fiumei cemetery? What on
earth for? Did you tell her about Clare?”

“No, nothing like that. She has
family there. Ancestors, I’d suppose. Her grandmother is from Hungary.”

“I’ll ask, but I think tomorrow
Marta has plans.”

“Whenever would be good for her,
then. I doubt she’s in a hurry.”

“The girl? You have her there
now, don’t you?”

“She’s here. Upstairs,
studying.” Eliot had left her with a textbook and a problem set in his study.

“Got to get her downstairs, to
the baths with you!” Otto chuckled heartily. “But Eliot, I do need to ask you a
favor.”

“What?”

“Take my tickets to the
restaurant opening.”

“I told you, it would be
inappropriate to take her as a date.”

“Then take her as a student,
nobody will care. It’s just a tiny little soiree.”

Eliot rolled his eyes. Otto’s
soirees never turned out to be tiny.

“Please, brother. I can’t make
it, and it would be a social snub if I missed it completely.”

“You will still be missing it
completely!”

“Not at all, I’m sending another
Herceg in my place. It’s been a while since you’ve shown yourself in public in
Budapest; I’m sure the restaurant owners will be more than thrilled to have you
in my place.”

“You’re not making me want to go
with that talk. And with the way I left Hungary…”

“Eliot, don’t be stubborn! It’s
just dinner. You don’t have to socialize with anyone.
Please
.”

Eliot thought of the fridge,
empty but for a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk. He would have to go out to
get dinner anyway. And perhaps Brynn would like to go to a fancy restaurant
opening…

“Yes. You’ve decided to say yes.
I can tell. Thank you, brother.”

Eliot sighed. “Fine. But I’m not
sticking around for cocktails or any nonsense afterwards.”

“You can escape back to your
hermitage after the dinner. Yes, fine.”

“Otto?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for all this. For
your support. And Marta’s.”

“Anything we can do, brother,
anything at all. You deserve it. Have a wonderful dinner tonight with your lovely
lady.”

Otto hung up before Eliot could
protest.

I
thought for most of my life that mathematics could describe anything. The
population growth of deer, the deep spirals of the calla lilies blooming in the
spring, the reverberations of an echo down an empty tunnel. The path of an
arrow as it fell headlong toward its target. Even love, the chemical reactions
and electrical signals in our brains that made us fall into each other
’s
arms headlong in bliss.

All of the world obeyed the
rules laid down years ago by mathematics, at the beginning of time, perhaps
even before time existed. Everything happened for a logical reason, an event
set into motion another event and so on and so forth. From initial conditions,
as Quentin would say. There was no such thing as magic. Or so I thought.

It only took one kiss for my
orderly, predictable world to fall into pieces.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Eliot paced the floor, waiting
for Brynn to be ready for dinner. His buttoned shirt irritated him at his neck,
the collar so starched and stiff that any motion felt like an itch. He felt
overdressed in a suit after so many years spent in Californian casual attire.
The restaurant opening specified a dress code, though, and he didn
’t
want to undermine Otto’s reputation among whatever crowd would be there tonight
any more than he already would just by being there. He hoped that anybody who
recognized him would stay far away, and he would be able to spend the evening
quietly with Brynn.

He heard the click of a heel
against the hard floor, and looked up to see Brynn standing at the top of the
stairs. All of the breath ran out of his lungs. She wore a lilac sheath dress
that flowed over and around her body, accenting her lovely curves in every
place that mattered. Her hair was pinned up in a loose bun, a few wavy strands
hanging over her cheeks. She looked down at him from the stairway and he could
see her eyes widen similarly at the sight of him.

What a pair we make
,
he thought, then tore the thought out of his mind. They were no pair, and she was
strictly off-limits. But it was impossible to mistake her for a girl in that
dress—every movement of hers down the stairs was as graceful and womanly
as a ballerina. Despite himself, he felt his entire body respond to the vision
before him. Brynn stopped on the last stair. Only the slight bashfulness of her
eyes indicated her nervousness.

“You look absolutely
stunning,” Eliot said, and Brynn beamed.

“You’re not too bad yourself,”
Brynn said. Eliot laughed. Graciously offering out his arm, he helped her down
the last step of the staircase. She stopped at the door and he turned back to
face her.

“Are you alright?”

Her hand tightened on his arm.

“It’s just… everything is so
beautiful.” Her eyes sparkled in the light of the entryway and a nervous
chatter of laugher burst from her lips. “I don’t know why I’m worried. I feel
like I’ll be out of place. With you…”

“You’re absolutely right,” Eliot
said. “You’re too damn pretty. Everybody will be jealous. I suggest you go back
and put those sweatpants on.”

Brynn laughed, and Eliot could
see the lines on her face ease with relief. He pressed his palm against her
arm.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little
restaurant opening. How bad could it be?”

Eliot’s own words rang in his
ears as he stood outside the restaurant with Brynn, watching the hordes of
people clamoring around the place. The restaurant, overlooking the Danube, was
festooned with millions of tiny lights, and media reporters lined the sidewalk
outside.

“Oh dear,” Brynn said, her voice
all but drowned out by the hubbub of the mob.

“I’m sure it’s better inside,”
Eliot said, and pulled her forward through the crowd of people determinedly.
They elbowed their way forward to the front of the line, where an aggrieved
hostess and a security guard kept turning people away. Brynn looked doubtfully
around as they came up to the entrance. As Eliot approached, he saw a glimpse
of recognition in the security guard’s eyes as he glanced at Eliot’s scar. The
guard leaned forward and whispered to the hostess.

“Dr. Herceg,” the hostess said,
beaming. “How wonderful to have you here with us. And this is?”

“Ms. Tomlin,” Eliot said
breezily. “My guest.” Brynn looked up at the mention of her name, not
understanding the Hungarian words.

“Of course. Delighted.” The
hostess waved them through, snapping her fingers for a waiter. The waiter led
them through the crowded tables to the outside patio, where a single table had
been set apart from the rest. A jazz quartet played on a low stage just across
the patio, and Eliot pulled out a chair for Brynn so that she would be able to
see them from their vantage point. Another waitress came by with a bottle of
champagne for their table. Some people at the other tables turned their heads
to see who was sitting down at the reserved spot. Eliot saw a flash of red hair
and it was Clare at one of the tables, Clare drinking from a glass not twenty
feet away. She turned to him and her lips mouthed a silent word.
Eliot
.

“Eliot?”

Eliot shook his head and
turned back to Brynn, who was looking at him curiously. He looked back at the
woman, but it was not Clare, just a woman with a red rose pinned behind her
ear.

“Cheers,” Eliot said, raising
his glass and focusing his attention entirely on Brynn. “What shall we toast?”

“Good luck,” Brynn said. “Or
fate. Or math. One of those.”

“To good luck, then,” Eliot
said. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to cheer math or fate.”

“To good luck,” Brynn echoed, a
darker look in her eye.

Despite Eliot’s desire to avoid
recognition, as they clinked their glasses a large, well-dressed man came up to
their table. By his swagger, Eliot guessed that he had already had too many
glasses of complimentary champagne. He spoke in a broken, heavily accented
English.

“The expatriate returns from
America! Don’t tell me. Otto has sent his younger brother to get out of coming
to the party tonight.” The man’s ruddy face grinned stupidly at Eliot, but
Eliot couldn’t place him.

“I’m sorry, you are?”

“Damien, Damien. We meet at a
party, oh—ten years ago, it must be.”

“Yes, it must have been.”

“Otto told me you just are now
back into town, but I did not believe him. And who is this lovely, lovely young
beauty?” He turned to Brynn, who had already downed half of her glass of
champagne. She held out her hand and the man pressed her hand to his lips
altogether too enthusiastically.

“I’m Brynn.”

“Brynn. You are American too,
yes?”

Brynn nodded.

“I always know an American! It’s
the pretty eyes. You are pretty enough to be a princess. A princess for a
prince!” He slapped Eliot on the shoulder and laughed at his own words.

“A prince?” Brynn looked
quizzically up at Eliot. Eliot raised his hand to stop the man, but Damien went
on talking.

“The Hercegs, both princes.”

“Not at all,” Eliot said to
Brynn, but she was enraptured by Damien’s chatter.

“Really?” she asked, leaning
forward.

“Well, if we still had our kings
and queens around,” the large man said. “All democracy, now. But still, this
one has it in his blood. And you too, now a princess!”

“Damien, it was good to see
you,” he said, shaking Damien’s hand firmly, so that there could be no question
about his leaving.

“Yes, very good,” Damien said.
“I will leave you to your princess.” He winked at Eliot as he left, and Eliot
put his head in one hand.

“I didn’t know you were a
prince,” Brynn said. A twinkle in her eye teased him, and he took a breath
inwardly, trying to brush off the encounter.

“Not anymore. They took back all
of the regal titles years and years ago. Before I was born.”

“Good thing they didn’t take
back the castle.”

“The castle is nice, isn’t it?”
He leaned back in his chair, smiling tightly. Brynn looked tickled to death
with the revelation that he was descended from royalty, but perhaps the
champagne was simply having an effect on her.

“Do you get to wear a crown?”
Brynn asked. Eliot sighed, a half-smile on his lips.

“Perhaps I haven’t made this
clear.”

Brynn laughed, her head tossed
back, so that he could see her bared throat, the line of skin from her
collarbone down to her cleavage. Eliot took a swallow of champagne and tried
not to let himself stare.

“The reclusive mathematician is
actually Prince Charming in disguise. I like it.”

“Minus the charm. I wonder if
you should have any more of that,” he said, as Brynn finished her glass of
champagne.

“It’s delicious. Bubbly.” She
smiled so becomingly that he did not even mind when the waitress returned to
fill her glass.

“I forget you have your college
training behind you.”

“Oh, I didn’t drink much at
college.”

“Not even at parties?”

“I didn’t really go to many.
It’s just, you know, the guys there…” Brynn puckered her face in a frown. “Not
the best scene.”

“And you’d rather hang out with
the reclusive mathematicians.”

“Only the most regal ones.”

“I don’t suppose I’ll ever get
you to forget about the whole prince thing.”

“Not a chance!” Brynn’s eyes
sparkled.

The waiter came with the first
course of the tasting menu, a rich fig and walnut salad, followed by a tomato
bisque and a main course of butter-poached salmon. It pleased Eliot to see
Brynn appreciate the meal so thoroughly, although he caught her at times
picking apart the food, just as she had the bacon at his house. An endearing
idiosyncrasy, he thought. Between the delicious food, the champagne, and the
music, the evening was turning out to be a success. Laughter rose in the air
and Brynn only cracked a few more jokes about Eliot’s noble heritage. Eliot
breathed more lightly and clinked his glass against Brynn’s in a number of
toasts before realizing that he was enjoying himself in society for the first
time in a long time.

After the waiters served dessert—a
chocolate pomegranate ganache topped with fresh cream—a few of the guests
began to dance on the terrace. Eliot felt a tug at his wrist and looked up to
see Brynn, her eyebrow raised in invitation.

“Dance?” she asked. Her
enthusiasm was buoyed by the champagne, but Eliot could still hear a note of
anxiousness behind the question. Dance? Of course he would dance. There was
nothing else he would rather do. He held out his arm and Brynn rested her hand
in the crook of his elbow. As they walked out onto the terrace by the band,
Eliot thought he could sense people staring.

Let them stare
.
He was having a good night, after all.

Brynn tiptoed on her heels, and
Eliot put his hand on her hip to steady her as she caught her balance. The soft
music lilted through the air and around the dancers. Brynn’s hand was hot in
his, her cheeks fairly flushed with pleasure.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning
forward and resting her head on his shoulder. “For the internship, for all
this. It’s wonderful.”

Eliot’s hand came up to the
small of her back. The dress draped in a deep plunge at the back, and his
fingers touched her skin. He did not move them.

“How do you like the frozen
tundra of Budapest so far?” he asked.

“It’s not terrible,” Brynn said.
“A castle, a kitten, a secret prince…”

“Everything you hoped for?”

“What I hoped for?” Brynn
stopped dancing and tilted her head up so that her face was only inches away.
“This is what I hoped for.” Her lips parted, pink and lush, and when she
reached up with one hand to pull him down into a kiss he willingly bent
forward.

The delicate, desirous pressure
of her lips undid him, and he could not help but bend deeper, clasping her
close to him in an embrace that yearned to erase years of isolation. He felt
her under him, hot and wanting, her hands clutching his back. His hand came up
to her cheek, caressing her skin. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair
and he smelled the delicate scent of her jasmine perfume as the kiss broke
apart and they stood with their foreheads still touching, breathless, silent.
Brynn’s eyes were pools of soft violet reflecting the waters of the Danube, and
he saw in them a hopefulness and innocence that tore at his heart.

A sharp crack and flash of light
just by his face made Eliot spin to the side. A photographer stood just by
them. Eliot raised his hand as the flash went off again, and the world spun
under him. He could hear blood rushing through his ears, and he saw himself
turn, felt his fist pull back, unable to stop it. His first blow landed on the camera,
shattering the lens and sending it flying to the floor with a loud crash.

“Eliot!” Brynn’s voice sounded
distant, and Eliot shoved the photographer hard, sending him over the edge and
into the river with a loud splash. The music stopped, and someone pulled Eliot
back from the river’s edge.