“To anyone?” A glimmer of hope began to burn inside me, and hope was the most dangerous and unrepentantly naggy of all human emotions. Hope was something I didn’t have the time to deal with.
“Penny. ”
“He told Penny what exactly?” Penny was Dominick and Desmond’s little sister, and considering she was thirteen years old, I didn’t know if I could put much stock in anything she was saying.
“He told her he misses you. ”
I sighed and blinked a few times. When did this room get so dusty? “Desmond would want to make it easier on her. Who wants to explain it to a teenager?”
“He does miss you, Secret. ”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But it doesn’t mean he wants me back. ”
“Go see him. Say you will and I’ll tell you everything Lucas does. ”
“Now you’re making me sound like a creepy stalker. ”
“No, you’re being a good queen. ”
There it was, my royal title for the second time that night. “So if you acknowledge I’m the queen, why won’t you take my orders?”
“Well, for starters, Your Majesty, my boss outranks you. ” I could practically feel Dominick wink.
“Damn. I call for a favor from the one werewolf who is a royalist loyalist. ”
“Just doing my job. ”
I forced a smile, which was pointless because he couldn’t see me. “So am I. ”
Chapter Five
I didn’t call Desmond.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, because it was the only thing I wanted to do. All night long from when I woke at dusk to the repellent moment sunrise forced me out of the world, I itched to call him. To see him. I sometimes would go a mile out of my way to walk by his apartment in the off chance I might accidentally bump into him. My use of the word stalker had been a joke when I’d used it in reference to Lucas, but I was towing a line when it came to Desmond.
I knew it was wrong, but instead of calling him I was walking through the financial district towards his office. It was late, well after nine by now, but I suspected he might still be there. I had no intention of talking to him, but hearing Dominick say I should see Desmond made a need take light in me.
I had to see him.
Desmond was a fix I couldn’t make it through the rest of my night without indulging in.
The Rain Industries Tower was on Bank St. in spite of the fact it had nothing to do with banking. As I traversed the nearly empty sidewalk, watching a few late workers move towards the subway stations or waiting town cars, I started to think about what a terrible plan this was.
I shouldn’t be here, but bad ideas seemed to be the only ones I was capable of having lately.
I climbed between the metal paws of a lion statue in front of a bank on the opposite side of the street and sank into the shadowy cradle of its legs. The Rain business center looked out of sorts with its surroundings, too glossy, metallic and modern next to the old skyscrapers it was nestled between. The lobby was white, all the furniture and art—a Jackson Pollack series—were done in a variety of shades of the color.
Shades of white were something I’d never understood. Was there really a difference between linen and cotton flower? They’d tried to convince me white came in shades when I’d tried on wedding dresses, but I still had trouble accepting it.
Instead I thought about what a bitch it would be to clean up blood in that lobby.
Desmond was a stark contrast to the whiteness of the space as he walked through it. He wore a charcoal-gray suit with the blazer slung over one arm and his pale green tie loosened. With the sleeves rolled up and his top two buttons undone I could see the dark hair on his arms and chest. Desire stirred in me.
When he stopped to talk to the desk man, I was afforded a view of one of my favorite parts of Desmond’s body, his tight, firm butt, which well-tailored pants made the most of. My leather jacket was suddenly much too hot. He and the older man laughed at a joke, and my throat constricted, lust fading into the painful reminder he was no longer mine to lust after. With a final wave he left the building and jogged down the steps.
Go to him, my brain commanded.
I shifted but didn’t move from my perch.