Part 23 (2/2)

”Where are you now?”

”I'm actually in your neck of the woods. Spent the night with a lovely woman by the name of Tammy.”

”Sounds charming.”

”Charming she certainly was not, but she could f.u.c.k like a sailor on leave so I'm not complaining. How's your little piece?”

It wasn't Jamie's fault the way he referred to Evelyn. He'd have no clue Lucian saw her differently than the rest, especially not after he provided him with a cheap show a few days ago.

”She's . . . she actually just left.”

”Left, like ran to grab a paper or . . .” He let the question hang.

”She's gone.”

”You okay, Luche? You don't sound too happy about that.”

”I'm . . . I don't know. It's for the best I suppose. It wouldn't have worked out.”

”That's a shame. She was a stunner. Those eyes . . . gave me something to think about for quite a few nights.”

”She isn't like that, Jamie.” His jaw locked. He didn't want Jamie thinking of her that way.

”All right. Settle down. Didn't know.” He cleared his throat. ”If she's so special, how come you let her go?”

”Slade hated her.”

Jamie laughed. ”Slade hates everyone at first. Lucian, please tell me you're not basing your choices on Slade's preferences. Monique's gone. You need to let her go. The both of you do. Besides, I think you're making a mistake if you find a keeper and decide to share her.”

”You didn't think I was making a mistake when you were invited to watch.”

”Watching and touching are two totally different things and you know it. Listen, I'm pulling up to Calgary's, then I'm coming over. You want me to grab anything before I get to the condo?”

”No, I'm good.”

”All right, I'll see you in twenty.”

Chapter 27.

Blockade A strategic placement of minor pieces intended to provide shelter from an attack Shadows crawled across the ceiling as the insidious ticking of the clock filled the room. It would soon be dawn and Lucian hadn't slept a wink. It had been the same for the past four nights. All he could think about was Evelyn. Was she safe? Was she warm? Was she thinking about him?

He tried to recall the shelter. He'd been in a rage the night he found her, showing up with a sole purpose, to get her the h.e.l.l out of there. There were more men than women. Every time he imagined her sleeping on that floor alongside other homeless residents, his gut twisted.

He must have slept for an hour or two. When he awoke at seven, it was to the sound of his cell vibrating quietly on the nightstand. Seeing it wasn't anyone he wanted to talk to, he silenced it and went to shower.

By noon, Lucian was on his way out the door to a meeting at Finks off the main line. Midweek check-ins clogged the lobby entrance. Jerome held the large gla.s.s-plated door and Dugan, in perfect timing, opened the pa.s.senger door of the limo.

”Good morning, Mr. Patras,” the doorman greeted as he whisked by.

”Good morning, Jerome.”

Nodding to Dugan, as he outran the chill and slid into the back of the car, the door closed and he was again submerged in warmth. They were soon on their way.

Finks was an open little joint specializing in Italian cuisine leaning more toward lighter fare. Lucian spotted the woman he was looking for as soon as he arrived.

She was dressed in a style he considered understated money. Her clothing was finely made, but subtle, lacking any pompous flare or designer tags. She stood on her burgundy square-heeled shoes as he approached the table.

”Mr. Patras,” she greeted and smiled. ”It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I admire what you've been doing with the old Poplar building.” Her handshake was completely as.e.xual, not overcompensating; firm, but also lacking any feminine grace.

”Thank you for taking this meeting, Mrs. Morris.”

”Please, call me Paula.”

”Paula, then. And call me Lucian.”

The waiter deposited menus and they each ordered their beverages. Business lunches were a strategy meant to distract and relax guests, and he always made sure not to fall too far into the comforts of the surroundings. He quickly ordered a light grilled chicken salad and handed back his menu, not wanting to waste too much time on the superfluous rituals of social etiquette.

”Slade tells me you're interested in St. Christopher's,” Paula said before sipping from her sweet tea. ”I must admit I'm a little surprised. I've watched your career at a distance and noticed you tend to stick to the more artistic charities. I'm flattered you're considering involving yourself with our shelter.”

Leaning back he eyed his lunch companion with friendly ease. ”I don't know anything about what it takes to run a shelter, I'll admit, but I'd like to make the conditions more . . . agreeable to the guests.”

”Residents,” she corrected. ”That's wonderful. I'm not sure if Slade told you, but the fire inspector's been coming down on us pretty hard lately. The school is pa.s.sable, but the church should've been condemned years ago. It's a constant struggle to run a charitable organization when repairs are needed. Most of our budget goes to utilities and supplementing the pantries when supplies are low.

”Being that tomorrow's Thanksgiving, we'll have a surge of donations from local food banks that will get the residents through the next two weeks, but after that, as the holiday season approaches, people tend to get caught up in securing their own luxuries, rather than considering what the less fortunate actually need.”

It had completely slipped his mind that tomorrow was Thanksgiving. That meant he'd be traveling back to the estate tonight and heading to Isadora's in the morning. The tediousness of a day with family immediately registered itself, forming a knot between his shoulders.

Paula continued to list the various needs of the shelter. He decided that while food was not an immediate issue, clothing was. He'd order bulk s.h.i.+pments of coats, gloves, hats, socks, and shoes and have them sent over as soon as possible. Next week he'd look into the building's structural issues and see what could be done there. Slade was on the factions committee, and he'd know best where to start.

Paula admitted to not being too sure about the facility's structural needs. She said after last year's battle with the towns.h.i.+p, it was a wonder they remained open at all. Slade had spearheaded the campaign to keep the shelter alive. Lucian was grateful he had.

No matter how much Slade didn't support his interest in Evelyn, he was still a philanthropist on some level. The shelter had been a cause of his since he graduated, taking up right where his mother had left off with the charity. He wondered if he was coming around on the Evelyn front or if he had called him the night he found her in hopes it would smother all interest Lucian had in the woman.

After taking care of the bill, he thanked Paula and promised to be in touch. Upon their return to the hotel, he told Dugan to hang tight and quickly packed his briefcase with things to keep him busy on the ride out of the city. Within the hour they were leaving Folsom and he was on his way to an intense, family-crammed holiday. His palms were already sweating.

Chapter 28.

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