Lucian pulled his thoughts from the past with an effort. After the remainder of the meal was dealt with, they gathered in the great room to watch a little of the game. Although his eyes never left the television, minus the sidelong glances at Peter and his wandering hands, he wasn’t even aware which teams were playing. His mind was focused on Evelyn.
Was she eating a turkey feast? Did the shelter acknowledge the holiday? What was she thankful for? He thought about the young man named Parker. It wouldn’t surprise him if the two of them found comfort in each other’s company. He cared for her very much, that was obvious in the longing way he watched her, whether Evelyn saw it or not.
Lucian’s gut twisted at the thought of someone else holding her, touching her, kissing her. He didn’t want to think of those silver-blue eyes staring into someone else’s face with the same awe she sometimes looked at him with. The boy would never be able to provide the right type of life for her, the kind that would extricate her from the gutters of Folsom and put her where she deserved to be.
Parker Hughes wasn’t really a boy, though, was he? No, he was a man with a disadvantage. The prick that Lucian was, part of him wanted the other man to stay down so he’d never have her. He should be hoping Parker ran into some luck so Evelyn could maybe find some small measure of happiness, but he was selfish. She was his.
Evelyn was intended for something better. Everyone saw it, except for poor innocent Evelyn herself. He bet she hadn’t even realized what a ruckus she had caused at the bar the other night. What would she have done if she knew not only that clinger hovering at her chair was hoping to get a piece of her, but her friend from the salon, Patrice, also would’ve been more than willing to follow her to bed that night?
When he arrived at Vogue after Dugan received a call from the manager that a woman was using his card, he wanted to stomp in there like a possessive animal and mark every inch of her. Eyes from all directions were crawling over her body.
While everyone else had painstakingly chosen designer duds and invested extra time in their appearances in order to patronize the ritzy bar, Evelyn had worn nothing but a cotton T-shirt and jeans with those sexy fuck-me pumps. She stuck out like a sore thumb. Not because she was underdressed, but because even without the effort made by the others, she was easily the most beautiful creature in the room.
His jaw popped and he unclenched his teeth. She was no longer his and he’d have to accept she would always gain the notice of other men and women. She was stunning and sweet and made it incredibly easy for him to go the extra mile and do something generous he normally wouldn’t even consider. He’d do anything, just to see that look of admiration in her eyes. But what if that meant letting her go?
He realized the game had ended when Peter stood.
“Well, Annie, you ready to head home?”
This douche bag . . .
Antoinette lived in a cozy little condo at the top of a swank establishment he had finished just in time for her twentieth birthday. Lucian had no doubt Peter was making himself quite at home in her condo, using her cable, eating her food. He reminded himself, again, that Antoinette and Evelyn were essentially the same age and she had as much of a right to live her life the way she chose as Evelyn did. It didn’t help.
Slapping Peter hard on the back, Lucian squeezed his shoulder until he winced. “Why don’t you come down to the city sometime, Pete? I’d love to show you what it is I do, let you get your feet wet in the real world for a day or two, see if you got what it takes.”
“Luche, Peter isn’t interested in industrializing the world. He wants to be an instructor,” Antoinette said with doe-eyed affection for her boyfriend.
“An instructor of what?” he asked.
“Martial arts,” Peter chimed in, an unreliable worldliness to his voice.
Lucian’s gaze narrowed as he skeptically took in his lanky build. “What belt are you?”
The younger man shifted his feet apprehensively. The motion was a complete contradiction to his upturned chin. “I’m not any belt yet, but I’m planning on starting classes this spring.”
Good grief. Antoinette needed to drop this moron. Quick. “Well, good luck with that,” he said, not bothering to disguise his unimpressed tone.
Once they all made their good-byes and his sisters promised they would get together in Folsom sometime before Christmas, he headed to his Rolls and planned to take the scenic way home in order to take in the open land. Hopefully the crisp air would erase the images of silver eyes and chestnut waves filling his head.