Loki's Game (10 page)

“Then let it be done,” Loren announced. “I will unpack while you write, and we’ll figure it out together. After all, with nothing but time on my hands I only have two options. I can either help or harass…and perhaps if I can get on your good side by helping, you’ll agree to have dinner with me.”

She fought the urge to grind her teeth. He was persistent, she had to give him that much. “I’ll share a meal with you, Loren, but not in any sort of romantic way.”

He smiled as he popped open a box. “Well, I must say, I feel like I’ve made progress already.”

Chapter Nine

“Look at this.” Dane dropped a newspaper on the table, covering Rowan’s book. He grunted as he shuffled the paper away from his book. “I’m serious, Rowan. You need to read that.”

“What is it?”

“Big news.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and picked up the discarded paper, then folded the pages back in their proper order. He glanced down at the headline:

ANTIQUE WEAPONRY EXHIBITION

COURTESY OF THE COLLINS-GOODWIN GALLERY.

Beneath the headline was a photo. Two people stood side-by-side, holding a claymore and smiling. One of them was Lily, and the sight of her beautiful face made his heart simultaneously race and seize. Then jealousy filled him as he realized the other person in the photo was a man. And seeing that man, his blood ran cold.

“Shall I begin packing?” Dane asked. Rowan stared at the black and white newsprint article a moment longer, then shook his head.

“No.”

“He will try to kill you.”

“I don’t care,” Rowan replied. Looking at the woman he loved standing beside that monster fueled his instincts, but not the instinct to run. “I have spent my whole life running from him. Whether I win or lose, this needs to end.” Dane stood by, silent, as Rowan rose and stalked around the table. “He has her. He has to know where I am. Otherwise, he would not have settled here under yet another false name.”

Rowan paced the length of the room, turned, and stalked back. He did this four times, all the while grumbling incoherently and muttering under his breath. He would have no peace until this was settled, one way or another. He just hated that Lily had to become involved. Rowan never stayed anywhere long, and it appeared that his pattern of duck-and-run was becoming even more of a game for Loki.

“Get out.”

Rowan paused his pacing and looked at Dane. “What?”

“You heard me,” his assistant said. “Get out. Go away. Find Lily if you must, but please get out of this house and stop pacing before you walk your way through the floor.”

Rowan scowled. “Where the hell would I go, Dane?”

“You own three houses, a yacht, a restaurant, and a nightclub. Any one of those would be sufficient. Just go somewhere and interact with people before you lose your mind.”

“It may be too late for that.” Rowan really hated it when his assistant played voice of reason between the two of them. “But if you insist on making me leave, may I at least get dressed first?”

“You have fifteen minutes.” Dane turned on his heels and stalked out of the room. Rowan stood in place for a long time, staring out the window at the cars moving around the square. He thought of his options—the places he could go—and none of them sounded particularly appealing. He didn’t want to eat. The yacht was an impulse buy that he’d never used beyond party rental. He had never been on it for pleasure himself. The other houses were too far away, and the nightclub—another impulse buy—was even less appealing. He wasn’t in the mood to dance.

But it was dark and would be a nice place to hide out.

* * * * *

In the thirteen days it took Lily to properly catalog Loren’s collection, she had done it while ducking constant pranks, flirts, and unnerving stares. She opened every box, pulled every item out of every case, she made lists, and made notes, and had the museum send over a dozen interns to create description tags from her notes to attach to the items. She shipped most of the restoration pieces out for cleaning, but she kept some of the smaller, fragile, and more interesting pieces for her own work. The weaponry, while fascinating, disturbed her. There was so much of it, and it spanned so many different time periods, that she lost track of where the collection actually began and ended.

She even found herself fascinated by that sword…fascinated to the point where she went to the bookstore and bought several books on Nordic legends. Lily read every single story about Sigurd and Regin, and even the dragon, Fafnir. On the rare occasions that Loren would leave her alone, she crept to the corner and weighed the weapon in her hands. Part of her wanted to believe in the magic of it, to
know
that the black stain at the end of the blade was dragon’s blood…that a true hero lived and touched the very thing in her hands. Still, the logical, rational part of her brain told her she was nuts. Told her there was no way those stories really could have happened. There were no such things as dragons, for one. Shape-shifters, she understood all too well…but dragons? No. That was going way too far.

The stories were all written as fantasy for a reason, and she knew that while Sigurd may have lived, he hadn’t slain a real dragon, just as she knew that Heracles was only a murdering madman in hero’s clothing.

Loren’s advances still came, and she continued to ignore him. It didn’t help that every time she thought she was nearing completion on the cataloging process, she found one more box tucked into one more drawer with one more bizarre artifact. Lily started to wonder if he wasn’t planting them overnight in order to keep her there.

Not that it mattered. She still had to oversee the gallery while it was open. Plus, she hadn’t given him an answer on his job offer. The money was good and the job easy enough, but that list of “perks” he had yet to bring her still frightened her. And like it or not, she was stuck with him for at least another two months.

Maybe…

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. His active pursuit of her was flattering, and he was an attractive man by any number of standards. Plus he was wealthy and intelligent and provided great conversation when it wasn’t about her ass or other assets. No, he wasn’t Rowan, but in reality she couldn’t hold that against him. It wasn’t Loren’s fault she’d let herself grow inexplicably attached to a monster. If anything, she should be ready to throttle Rowan for being so damned charming.

Luckily, Loren was there to break up that train of thought with a loud and surprisingly clumsy entrance.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he said after a smooth recovery from a near-catastrophic collision with a gallery case. Lily, in a swift and solemn vow to adjust her outlook on life and men in general, hit him with a bright smile.

“Hi yourself,” she chirped, and he paused to consider her. A sly grin curled the corners of his lips, giving him a wicked, almost sinful appearance.

“My, we’re chipper this morning, aren’t we?”

“We are.” Feeling silly, Lily popped the lid on her newest find—a box of books—and slipped on a pair of gloves. “Uncovering the treasures of the eccentric millionaire’s basement does wonders for disposition,” she said. Loren laughed and settled the bag he carried on the table next to her notebook.

“Good to know my eccentricity entertains you. Danish?” He tore the bag down the side, spilling warm pastries onto her work space. She smiled, settling the stack of books to the side, and her stomach rumbled as the scent of fresh baked dough hit her nose. Her cheeks warming, she snapped off a glove and pulled a cheese Danish from the pile.

“Thank you,” she said. As she lifted the pastry to her lips, she felt like a bug under Loren’s microscope. He watched her intently as she took a bite and began to chew. “This is good,” she offered around the food.

“I know.”

“Where’d you get them?”

His grin turned impish. “From my kitchen.”

She nearly choked in her surprise. “You made them?” She hadn’t expected that and the astonishment showed as she paused to look back at him. A second rush of embarrassment coursed through her, no doubt staining her face with a blush.

“I did.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course. Did you not expect a man like me to have culinary skill?” Now she knew she was blushing. She felt ridiculous. “After all, I am the eccentric billionaire with nothing but time on his hands.” Lily ducked down behind the table again and went back to examining the books—anything to get away from his gaze.

“No, it isn’t that.”

“Then what?” He leaned over the table, resting his arms on the edge and smiled at her. His face was much more predatory than…no, she was not going to think about it. She promised herself she was not going to do it anymore.

“It’s just…”

“You are still hung up on someone else.” Lily nearly choked on the pastry clamped between her teeth. “Yes, you are that easy to read, Lily.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to steady her thoughts and her skittering heart. “Not anymore,” she said finally. “Not really.”

“Well,” Loren said, his smile turning sly, “let me be the first to extend a formal invitation to dinner.” Lily pushed the last bit of Danish into her mouth and chewed slowly, using the time to consider her options. She blew it with Rowan and this job was only a temporary one, so why not have some fun? She started to accept then remembered that the offer of a permanent position still hung in the balance. Lily began to question her morals…not that they mattered much anymore after her romp with Rowan. She could easily have fun with Loren…if only the whole situation didn’t feel so damned
wrong
…

“I’d love to,” she answered, surprising herself. Loren’s eyes sparkled with new intensity, and no small amount of surprise.

“Tonight, then,” he said, and motioned to the pile of Danishes. “Those are yours. I will let you work in peace.” Loren turned and walked away without another word, closing the door behind him.

“That was weird,” Lily muttered as she folded back the flaps on the box and slipped on a fresh glove. But she wasn’t going to think about it. She had work to do.

The tomes were old and dusty, but most were in excellent condition despite the substandard storage. She wrinkled her nose against the cloud of dust that billowed up from beneath the top layer and slowly spread them across the part of the table not consumed by pastry. Most of the books were cloth-bound, some hand-written, and included a spectacular array of subjects.

She found two medical manuals, a hand-lettered bible she was willing to bet money was an authentic Wycliffe manuscript—the one book alone that could make her career if it was real—a series of journals written in what looked like German, and various propaganda pamphlets. She lost hours poring over the volumes, carefully noting dates and authors and subjects, making certain she missed nothing when it came to the details.

But as she neared the bottom of the box, one book in particular caught and held her attention. It was bound in white leather—yellowed with age—with intricate knotwork burned into its surface. She opened the cover, the spine crackling in a way that made her stomach lurch, and found only a single word on the title page.

LUPUS

The blood in her veins ran cold. A book about wolves—particularly one this old and well-decorated—usually meant some forgotten history or mythology. But this book…Lily knew its contents would take her down a road she had been afraid to walk for weeks now.

“Lily?” Loren’s voice echoed through the nearly empty room, startling her into dropping the book. It landed on its spine with a crushing thump, and she winced as she squatted to retrieve it. Lily shoved the book down into her bag and picked up one of the others as his footsteps neared. Forcing calm into her breath and body, she focused on the book in her hands—some boring history about the creation of Earth. “There you are!” He leaned on the counter above her and she tried to smile at him. The action felt forced, and she knew it looked just as fake.

“Right where you left me,” she replied.

“You ready for dinner?”

Ugh…dinner…she’d completely forgotten. But she had also agreed to go. With a sigh, she stood up and brushed her hands together, expelling another cloud of dust. “Just let me clean myself up a bit.”

“Take your time,” he said, eyes fixed on her rear as she strode across the room. Lily cringed, and had to physically bite her tongue to keep from throwing some trite insult at him.

* * * * *

If she’d known he planned to take her clubbing after dinner, Lily never would have agreed to the date—because a simple dinner had turned into just that. Despite her protests that she hated large groups and didn’t dance, Loren insisted on slipping the doorman a ridiculous roll of bills in exchange for entrance to the club. She felt compelled to apologize to the people already in line for the intrusion, but the sharp look she received from Loren made her close her mouth without a word.

He dragged her onto the dance floor where he proceeded to feel her up while she stomped all over his toes. It started out unintentional and he didn’t seem to notice, or even mind that the closer he pulled her the more damage she did. Even though she’d managed to find a decent rhythm in the song she still continued to crunch his toes beneath her heels, all the while apologizing and reminding him that she tried to warn him. But as the song ended and he kissed her, his mouth soft and warm and insistent, she forgot that she needed to apologize.

Loren’s tongue swirled around hers and their bodies picked up the rhythm of the new song. With each heavy bass-beat, his hips surged against hers and his tongue swept across the line of her teeth, turning her body to a puddle of warm, tingling goo in his arms. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she could hear her rationality screaming to stop, that this was wrong, that he was beginning a pattern of taking advantage of her, but his hands felt so good, his kiss so smooth, that she didn’t want to stop.