it as an option for you. And to piss off the Township.” His finger hooks my chin, and he lifts my gaze to his. “There are no obligations with this, Isa. You can walk away any time.”
“Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, you’ve probably had a tracking chip installed while I was asleep.”
“Did you feel it, or something?” His stern face breaks into a smile when he kisses me again. “Go. The suspense is killing me.”
I could pass for a clown with the permanent smile on my face, as I turn around and make my way to the front door. The skeleton shaped key slips into the lock, and the bell chimes as I push through the door.
A warm familiarity embraces me when I step inside, breathing in the scent of old books. My shop. My very own bookstore. It doesn’t even feel real.
As I pass the shelves of old books, I run my fingers over their spines, and pause mid-row to find the glass encased copy of Dracula.
“I paid a little extra for that one. It’s not for sale. It’s yours to keep.”
“Why did you do this for me?” I turn to face him, blinking hard to ward off the oncoming tears.
Hands tucked casually in his pockets, he looks around the place and shrugs. “I want you to be happy.”
I’m glutting with happiness right now, and I can’t help but feel like, any minute, the carpet will be pulled out from under me. In my world, happiness is fleeting, the high at the end of a long stretch of lows. In my world, when you hit a streak of good luck, you duck, because right around the corner is the next swing of bad.
This feels unbalanced, for the lows I’ve suffered in my life.
“What about you? Are you happy?” I ask.
“More than I’ve ever been, which I guess proves that we’re not as fatalistic as we’d like to believe.”
“How so?”
“When you feel dead inside, you inevitably reach for things that make you feel alive. Pain. Adrenaline. Drugs. That’s how vices are born. That’s how you became my obsession. You are what makes me feel alive. Like a breath of air after drowning.”
Setting my hand to his cheek, I run the pad of my finger across the grisly scars there, ones I hardly notice nowadays. “I think I’m in love with you, Lucian Blackthorne. And you don’t have to say it back to me.” I can’t be certain, because I’ve never loved a man in my life, and likewise, no man has ever spoken those words to me in return.
“Everything I’ve ever loved, truly loved, has been ripped away from me.” Brows stern, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “And that scares the shit out of me, where you’re concerned.” Even the times when he’s hard and aloof, I’ve felt his care for me. I know something’s there, just like the shadows on the walls back at the manor. I don’t have to see it, or hear it, to feel it everywhere. He doesn’t have to say it.
I push up onto my tiptoes to kiss him. Glancing around the shop, I sigh. “I’m a business woman now. You know what that means?”
“You’ll be wearing skirts more often than not?”
“It means you’ll get to see my ruthless side.”
“They’re books, Isa. Not million dollar mergers.”
“You don’t know book hoarders like I do. They take their assets very seriously.”
Leaning to the side, I look past him to check the Closed sign on the door, and back away, removing my long winter trench coat.
Golden eyes watching my every move, he keeps his distance.
I drop the coat to the floor and step back, deeper into the rows of books, away from the front windows of the store.
He steps toward me, tipping his head in curiosity. “What’s this?”
“Is it only boats you christen? Or bookstores, too? I’m not sure.”
Sliding his black trench over his shoulders, he tosses the garment onto the floor beside mine. “I’m fairly certain you christen both, but you’re not old enough for a bottle of champagne.”
“That’s too bad.” I continue to back myself toward the wall of books behind me, until I’m well out of sight of anyone passing by the shop. “I hear it’s bad luck if you don’t. Sort of like crossing paths with a Blackthorne.”
A crooked smile kicks up the corner of his lips as he steps toward me, until caging me against the books. “Then, I guess you’re screwed.”