Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Lucian

We put the new cell phones on to charge as soon as we got back to the hotel. The room had cheap crappy coffee in sachets next to a crappy kettle, but we made the most of them anyway. Sipping away on liquid shit while I plowed through my black book some more, scribbling down some more notes on my strategy.

Elaine lay on the bed and watched me, seemingly fascinated by everything I did. I adored that about her. Her fascination, so innocent and addictive. It was truly wondrous.

“You have amazing handwriting, you know that?” she asked me.

I shrugged, my pen poised over the page. “Nobody has really commented on my handwriting since my school days, I can’t say I’ve given it much thought.”

“It is,” she said. “It’s like calligraphy. I noticed it in your dream journal.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You really were nosy in Bishop’s Landing, weren’t you? Going through my bedside drawers.”

She nodded, proud of it. “Yeah, I was. I wanted to know just who you were. All of your secrets.”

I put my pen down.

“You know a whole damn bigger secret than you’ll ever find in a dream journal. You know you can stab me through the hand and I won’t feel a thing. That’s a much bigger slice of knowledge than what happens when I’m sleeping.”

“True.” She laughed. “Maybe I’ll see you writing in that dream journal again soon, hey? Maybe I’ll start keeping one too. We can share dream stories in the mornings.”

The hopeful glint in her eyes was delicious.

I laughed back at her. “I’d be considerably happier about you seeing me writing in my dream journal again than I would about you seeing me stabbed through the hand again.”

“Same,” she said, and she was sparkling. Glowing. Happy. Even with the crazy world hunting us down across the Atlantic.

I checked the cell phones on the bedside table. They were charged and ready to go.

I handed Elaine hers and she swiped the screen, setting up the Wi-Fi. I had much more important things to be doing than browsing the internet. I got to my feet and began pacing as I made my very first phone call.

The words were a relief as soon as they rolled off my tongue.

“This is Lucian Morelli calling.”

My introduction was met with every scrap of respect I expected. Yes. The London world was ready for me. Ready and waiting.

Every contact that I reached out to was eager to meet up with me. The highest echelons of the underworld and the shiny businessmen standing tall over them were eager to hear my news and my proposals for partnerships. Or at least they seemed to be.

Elaine was staring at me when I put my cell down after my first round of calls. Her own cell was still in her hands, and she was playing some cute little game on there that made me smile. But there was an enthusiastic innocence shining out of her.

“Sounded like it went well,” she commented, and I nodded.

“Very well,” I confirmed. “My first meeting is later today, in just a few hours. A very important one.”

Her innocence turned to nervousness.

“You’re meeting up with people today? These people…are they safe?”

“I’ll soon find out,” I told her, and I was already choosing smarter clothes from my suitcase.

Her fingers were twiddling in front of her, cell phone forgotten as I buttoned up my fitted shirt.

“Who is it you’re meeting?” she asked.

“Devon Quentin and his associates, and a business partner he has a lot to do with. George Ellis.”

“And what do they do?”

I pulled up my tailored pants.

“A variety of things. They have networks of friends, and suppliers and clients. Both official and nefarious.”

She nodded, weighing it up. “They can help us set up here, then?”

I nodded and took a tie from the suitcase. A deep rich burgundy silk. “Yes, they can most certainly help us set up here. I’m prepared to share some of my own business investments and trade deals with them, and discuss cross-country ventures. I have plenty of ideas.”

“And they can protect us?”

I smiled. “They can most definitely protect us, sweetheart. This meeting is one of several I’ve already organized. If my ideas come to fruition, we could be in a very good position here.”

“And if not?” she asked, and there was a shake of nerves in her voice again.

They had every right to be there. If I’d been less of an arrogant asshole, I would have had nerves myself. These connections I’d made were tenuous, and I hadn’t had direct communication with them for quite some time. If they opted to liaise with my father and exploit my location details as opposed to truly hearing my propositions, then I would be setting myself up for my own demise.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “If not, then we think again. Jason and Penelope might be gardening together as soon as they can.”

That was an understatement. We’d need to be thinking again pretty damn fast or Jason and Penelope would never even manage to get hold of a trowel before their brains were blown out of their heads.

I finished getting ready, checking myself in the hotel mirror before slipping on a suit jacket. I looked very much like myself as I swept my hair back neatly.

I sighed in frustration and forced myself to take off my tie and roll it up for my jacket pocket, unbuttoning the shirt at the collar to make me look considerably more casual. Jesus, I hated casual. It grated at my spine.

My pretty sweetheart swung her feet from the bed and got up as I was preparing to leave, fingers still twiddling in front of her.

“Can I come with you? Maybe I could help?”

God, she was so fucking beautiful.

No doubt having Elaine Constantine along for the discussions would be another weight of namely respect there for the taking, but I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want to risk her being at my side in case things all went to shit.

“You stay here and rest up, baby. Enjoy the room and your new cell.”

She let out a sigh. “This is a really dangerous meeting, isn’t it? That’s why you don’t want me to come.”

I didn’t lie. “Yes. This is dangerous. That is why I don’t want you to come.”

She sighed again. “But you can’t protect me from everything in the world, Lucian! It won’t work!”

I stepped up to her and brushed her cheek with my thumb. “Maybe I can’t,” I told her. “Maybe I can’t protect you from everything in the world that life has to throw at us, but believe me, Elaine, I’ll die trying.”

She saw the argument was futile and dropped her gaze from mine. She was shocked. That little girl in her again was still trying to soak it in—the very fact she could be so loved. I could see it all over her face.

Making her realize just how much I loved her would be a mission I’d be enjoying for the rest of my life. I just hoped my life lasted longer than one single afternoon. “Please, please stay as safe as you can,” she said, grabbing my hand as I stepped past her to grab my briefcase.

I squeezed her fingers before picking up the case, picking up my new cell phone along with it. “I’m certainly planning on it.” I held up the phone. “At least you have this to reach me.”

“Great,” she said and rolled her eyes. “I can send you some sappy messages and heart emojis before they kill you at your father’s instruction, then.”

Sarcastic little doll. I’d have spanked her if I hadn’t been so pressed for time.

I tipped my head as I told her so.

“Be prepared for when I do get back later, little doll. I’ll be punishing you for your sass.”

She managed a smile. “I just hope it’s coming. I just pray you’ll come back.”

The fear in her was burning bright in her eyes, so scared.

It gave me a pang of need. The need to protect, and reassure and love her. The whole concept was still alien to me, but so fierce. So raw.

I held her so fucking tightly, I almost crushed her in my arms.

She breathed against my shirt so shallowly, a beautiful doll holding me tight right back. “Please come back to me,” she whispered.

“I’ll be giving my everything to come back to you,” I told her.

I didn’t want to run through a big list of what she must do if I didn’t make it back. I didn’t want to dwell on the potential fatality of my plans enough to go through the fake identities and the cash cards and the funds she’d most definitely find access to in my suitcase if she needed to run away, I just trusted her that she would find a way to stay alive.

I kissed her slow and hard, savoring her mouth like it was my heaven. “I love you,” I told her, and then I walked away.

I took a breath as I closed the hotel door behind me and stepped out onto the hotel landing. My shoulders were held firm and my chin was high, holding my Morelli posture grand and true as I made my way down to the lobby.

I asked reception to order me a cab and they did so. I was waiting barely more than five minutes before they pulled up outside the front entrance.

“Canary Wharf,” I told the driver and handed him the address.

“Sure thing, mate,” he said, and his accent had a cockney twang.

He had the radio on, tapping his steering wheel to tacky pop beats as we made our way across the city. I kept checking the time and we were still on schedule, but there was a sliver—just a sliver—of nerves squirming right down in the depths of my stomach. I didn’t like them. Nerves weren’t anything that belonged in my life.

I had already pulled the tie from my pocket and fastened it before the cab arrived at our destination. Venley Finance. I knew it was a front for a world of other lucrative bullshit, and was fully prepared for the corporate gloss once I paid the driver and stepped right in.

Sure enough, it was corporate gloss that greeted me. A sprawling lobby with a ridiculously ornate water feature in the center, lit up brightly enough to gloat about its presence.

“I’m here to see Devon Quentin,” I said to the man at the front desk.

I still had the fucking glasses on my face and he didn’t clock who I was, even in my suit.

“Mr. Morton?” he asked, and I nodded, taking hold of whatever bullshit identity Quentin had given them. “He’s on floor fifteen. Meeting room seven.”

I didn’t even thank him, just raised a hand and carried on my way.

The elevator was as glass and pompous as the rest of the building. The voices were posh and British all around me as I arrived at floor fifteen and made my way along to meeting room seven.

I took off the glasses and knocked one single knock at the meeting room door before I stepped in there, well and truly back to Lucian Morelli as the figures on the other side of the table stood to greet me.

Devon Quentin, George Ellis, and a few I didn’t recognize.

They sure recognized me.

It was Devon who spoke first, offering me a handshake which I accepted before he gestured to a seat at the table.

“Lucian Morelli,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

I smirked as I placed my briefcase down on the tabletop, clicking it right open.

Yes. They were pleased to meet me. I could see it all over their faces, hungry for trade deals and associations. “Let’s get down to business,” I said.