look up and see she's looking at me with questions in her eyes. “Everything is fine,” I assure. “I just...” Words fail me. Adelaide is lying, and I'm hurt by it. What are these people keeping from me?
“Livvy?”
“Oh! Sorry! I'm just not used to the extravagance that Khristos surrounds himself with.”
She smiles warmly. “You should just enjoy it instead of questioning it.”
“I'm trying.” I feel a sharp pain in my temple, and I can't help but wince. What is up with these headaches?
“Are you in pain?”
“Just a tension headache,” I murmur as I pick up my glass of orange juice.
“Have you been getting them a lot lately?” Adelaide asks, her tone oddly serious.
I look at her and give a slight shrug. “On and off.”
“Let me make you a special tea of mine. It's a natural remedy, it'll help with the pain,” she says as she immediately walks over to a cupboard.
“Oh, you don't have to do that.”
“I don't mind. I promise, it'll help.”
While I eat, I find myself lost in thought as I listen to Adelaide move around the kitchen. I've been trying to figure out what Khristos wants with me, but I keep drawing blanks.
A few minutes later, Adelaide sets a teacup in front of me. I reach out and cautiously sip it, expecting not to like it. But I do. I smile my approval. “This is really good, Addie.”
“I should hope so,” she says dryly as her eyes twinkle at me. “I'm not in the habit of making horrid tasting tea.”
By the time I'm done eating, my headache is gone.
Chapter Eight
By Friday, I'm absolutely frustrated. It's been three days since I hired Sheffield, and I haven't heard from him. Is he even searching for my mom? Maybe I shouldn't have trusted him. The Sheffield situation isn't the only thing that's bothering me. I can't seem to dig up anything on Khristos or Roman. It's like neither of them exist. There's nothing to gain from searching the Internet, and I can't seem to get any information out of anyone that knows them. I've basically reached a figurative dead-end.
All I can do now is wait for Sheffield to contact me. Earlier today, I'd considered dropping by his office to see how the investigation is going, but I hadn't. I'm glad. The last thing I need to do is come off as a pest, especially since he shouldn't even be doing any of this for me. I am going to have to be patient and hope he finds my mom soon.
A knock on my bedroom door startles me out of my thoughts.
Well, that's not good.
Knocks on the door usually mean it's Roman. I've come to know enough about his personality to know that he has no intention of going away until I answer the door. With a resigned sigh, I climb off the bed where I'd been lounging and walk over to the door. I swing it open, not the least bit surprised to find Roman standing there. “Roman,” I say with a hint of dryness in my tone.
“Vee,” he greets as he walks past me and saunters into my room.
I let another sigh escape, not bothering to hide it as I shut the door. I turn around and see that he's standing in the center of my room, arms crossed. His dark hair is slightly wilder than normal, and on him, it gives him a darkly sinister look. Let's face it, the guy is hot, but half the time he resembles a very attractive serial killer with all those wicked smiles that contain a wealth of dangerous promise. I have a feeling that if you piss him off, he won't hesitate to physically hurt you. My eyes drop down to take in his outfit. Gone is the rich playboy. Tonight he wears a dark gray V-neck shirt with some sort of cryptic design. His black jeans fit his frame snugly, and on his feet he wears biker boots that aren't laced all the way up, causing the bottoms of his jeans to rest inside the open flaps.
“Like what you see?” Roman drawls playfully.
“I don't know. Why don't you turn around and walk towards the door so I can see you from the back. If I don't shove you out the door and slam it shut in your face, you'll have my answer.”
His smile widens, and he doesn't seem the least bit perturbed by my cranky mood. “Little Vee's got claws. I like it,” he says before he turns and ambles