A smarter woman wouldn’t put herself through that again.
A smarter woman would pack her bags—not that she had any left—and leave town.
But, apparently, I was not a smarter woman.
Because here I was, walking beside Lucien while my heart learned how to beat again and my brain screamed in Morse code for me to run for the hills.
And yet…I didn’t.
Gods help me.
Chapter
Fifteen
LUCIEN
We walked in silence—and not the comfortable kind.
Two blocks. That was all that separated The Crimson Veil from Isadora’s bar. A short, forgettable stroll any other night. But tonight, it felt like we were walking a tightrope.
There were things I needed to say—wanted to say. Except I seemed to have no words.
I’d almost kissed her. Right there on the dance floor.
Gods, I’d desperately wanted to.
But the countless eyes watching us had stopped me. Now, normally, I didn’t give a damn about appearances. I did what I wanted when I wanted. But I did give a damn about Isadora, and I didn’t want our first kiss to become a spectacle. It wasn’t anyone’s business what transpired between the two of us.
Of course, that begged the question: what, exactly, was transpiring between us?
In the course of a single night, we’d gone from her storming into my lounge and accusing me of breaking into her home, to dancing, then nearly kissing. A woman who hated you didn’t step into your arms like that. Her breath didn’t catch the way Isadora’s had when I’d touched her. She didn’t grip your shoulder or touch your chest like you were the only safe place in the world.
She hadn’t spoken since we’d left The Veil, and I could tell she was deep in thought. I wanted to ask what she was thinking about. Did she regret dancing with me in front of so many people? But a part of me feared her response. And wasn’t that laughable? I never feared anything.
People said communication was key when building a relationship. I just didn’t know how to communicate with her yet.
We turned the final corner, and her bar came into view.
Isadora reached into her pocket and fished out her key, but before she could insert it, the door swung open of its own volition.
Cursing, I swept an arm out and shoved Isadora behind me, ready to defend her from whoever had invaded her bar this time. But the sound of her soft laughter had me glancing over my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s just Bernard.”
“And Bernard is…?”
A soft smile curled her lips. “My chandelier ghost.” She pointed at the same chandelier that had “threatened” me the last time I was here. “He likes to play with the doors and windows too.”
She had a ghost named Bernard.
When I didn’t move, Isadora brushed past me, her fingers grazing my arm. “It’s his way of welcoming me home, I think,” she said, stepping inside with a confidence I didn’t share.
I followed. “You know your ghost’s gender?”
She paused, a thoughtful crease forming between her brows. “No, I suppose not. But he hasn’t complained.”
Above us, the chandelier twinkled quietly, its crystals chiming against each other in an almost approving sound.
