close to each other. All of them, in their own ways, are cold. If one of them dies, it will be handled like any other business transaction, their body tossed in the ground, a few expected words, and they will wipe their hands of it while dividing the assets.
My heart sinks to think of it.
But this man, he knows. His expression mirrors my pain.
“You know what? I have some time, too. And I happen to know this cemetery like the back of my hand. I’ve explored it from corner to corner.”
His brows shoot up, but that mouth of his, it doesn’t budge.
I wonder what someone like him would look like happy. Wonder how breathtaking he would be rumpled and free of the weight on his shoulders.
Angry at myself for daring to imagine what he would be like when stretched out over a woman in bed, I shake away the thought and push to my feet.
“Are you offering to be my personal tour guide?” There is a teasing hint to his voice.
I nod.
“I know where all the secret places are. Come with me, and I’ll show them to you.”
Ari falls into step beside me, his body close, but he is careful not to touch.
Attempting to ignore how my heart skips a beat to have him so near, I lead him on a tour of a place we have in common.
Ari
I’m a damn good liar. Always have been in life, the control I keep over my face and body ironclad while both truth and lies fall easily over my tongue.
Feeling not one drop of guilt for the method I used to convince Adeline to talk to me, I keep a slow pace at her side, my hands tucked safely away in my pockets, my expression neutral while she points out different pieces of art and large stone structures, her knowledge of the cemetery impressive.
It isn’t surprising. She’s an artist, or at least she was before she married. But while she rattles on about a bunch of crap I don’t care about, I pay attention to the changes I can see in her.
Even her mannerisms are different, the free spirit I’d watched for so many years gone. In its place is someone so ordinary I would never have noticed her all those years ago.
Dressed in a pale pink (Adeline hates pink) dress that falls to her knees, the collar high so that nothing of her shoulders show, she’s lost in her explanation of different features of the cemetery, their meaning, their age.
I barely hear a word she says, would have walked away from this conversation had it been anybody else, but it gives me the opportunity to study her up close, to seek out any flicker of the obsession I’ve had for so long.
I should be glad she changed, should walk off and see this as a point where I can let her go, but underneath the polished, proper, exterior, I know someone else exists.
Obviously, she won’t admit it to herself, but whatever is trapped is fighting back. She’s shedding the fake person in her sleep. Shoving away the husband I suspect is the influence forcing her inside a gilded cage.
With every intention to find out what Grant is doing when he doesn’t return home, I stare at the ground as we walk, lifting my head every once in a while to look at whatever it is she points out.
“And over there is the Rinehart Mausoleum. The last person was interred over a hundred years ago. An entire family. But we can go inside. It has several rooms, the walls carved with different symbols and words that represent each member of the family.”
I know better than to walk into the mausoleum with her. The amount of restraint it takes to keep my distance is already unbearable. Reaching out to touch her would be so easy. Tossing her over my shoulder and dragging her off into the shadows so fucking tempting.
And there she is, inviting me to be alone with her...without the first clue of who I am in her life.
Staring at her, I ask the questions in my head that would send her running if spoken aloud.
Do you know I killed your father?
Do you realize I’ve been watching you for seven years?
That I’ve seen you naked?
That I’ve watched you fuck?
That I almost fucked you myself on a night you don’t even remember?
But really, none of those questions matter as much as the one that sets my teeth together and makes a muscle jump