Page 98 of Eternal Obsession

I glared at him—a warning not to reveal anything else. “He is an acquaintance of ours. He’s a little . . . unruly.”

“In what way?”

“He’s a little crazy,” Alex said.

“Does he have a criminal record?” Ingrid asked.

“Not exactly,” I said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ingrid snapped.

“It means no. A drink. Alex, bring wine. No, something stronger,” I said.

Ingrid’s face flushed. “He was very . . .”

Her thoughts carried on a current of infatuation. He’d stirred a delicate fever of lust within her. And in me, a rush of jealousy—his stark cruelty a vicious thing.

Orpheus haunted me still, long after stealing everything. Death was never his desire. Torture was his art, and I was his unwilling masterpiece.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I reassured her. “Come on, we’ll go to the drawing room. I will make it up to you. I promise.”

“I’m fine, I’ll bounce back.” Ingrid sighed.

I guided her out of the room. “Come on, let’s go and get ourselves a stiff drink,” I said.

“Perhaps some tea?” Alex offered, following.

I wanted her now, with a desire that defied reason, even as I knew she could never be mine. Ingrid was unattainable. The knowledge that Orpheus had made the move on her only made my desire for her grow sharper, more urgent.

I studied Alex, concerned that he too was shaken. He closed his thoughts to me before I could examine them.

I turned my attention back on to Ingrid. “I do hope this hasn’t ruined your visit.”

“Goodness, no,” Ingrid said. “Before all this, I was thoroughly enjoying myself. You have a lovely home. This place is huge. So many exquisite antiques. I adore antiques.”

“Perhaps that’s why we get on so well,” I jested.

Ingrid did well to bluff her decorum. But I wasn’t fooled. I was determined to extinguish Orpheus’s dark spark.

We settled within the anteroom. I uncorked a bottle of Chateau Leoville-Loire 1972, poured Ingrid a large glass, and watched her sip from the dark red vintage. Both Alex and I appeared to sip at ours and attempted to recall the taste.

Alex had purchased takeout. Having flown to the mainland and back in record time. We both prodded our Chinese food as Ingrid, with her healthy appetite, devoured hers. As the evening progressed, Ingrid relaxed, lulled by Alex’s beautiful piano playing which he performed with his usual mastery. Alex even persuaded me to play several duets with him much to Ingrid’s delight.

The space awakened to the cascade of notes, each one shaped by centuries of devotion, it was spellbinding and otherworldly.

Soon the aged wine took its effect, and she was lost in the semblance of the room, warmed by both the fine wine and the roaring fireplace. She sat on the luxurious couch, crystal glass in hand, absorbed in the music. Conversation flowed as we naturally wooed her.

As the midnight hour approached, Alex made his excuses to retire to bed.

“Alex, you and I, we need to talk,” I said.

Alex stared off.

“Later then?” I pushed for a response from him.

He was clearly hurt. Orpheus had not come to him. Even as Alex’s hate burned, so did his painful secret of adoration. Even as his infatuation cut me deep, I grasped how the one made might succumb to the one who had turned him.

“You’re okay?” I whispered.