SEVEN
Lucan
I could tellwithout him saying a word that Felix had gone off with some half-cocked plan. It was just like him. He’d jumped in without thinking things through, and now he was skulking around our rooms with a thundercloud of annoyance hanging over him.
“What happened?” I asked when he’d paced past me for the hundredth or so time that afternoon.
He didn’t answer, only let out an inarticulate growl and flopped onto the couch. He snatched the game controller off the coffee table but then just glowered at it.
Darius wasn’t in a much better mood. “She wasn’t half as nervous as she should have been,” he muttered where he was sitting in one of the armchairs, as if we were in the middle of a conversation already. But I didn’t need to ask who he was talking about.
He pushed himself to his feet and stalked to the door. “We just have to keep up the pressure. Not give her the chance to get the slightest bit complacent. Or to forget how much we could offer that she’s only getting if she gives in.”
Felix snorted as if he found that idea amusing and finally switched on the TV. “I’m sure you can handle that all on your own. I’ll jump in for a turn later after you’re done with her.”
Darius frowned at him, looking like he was about to say something about us sticking together. I suspected Felix would hurt our cause more than help it in his current mood, though. I flicked away the email threads I’d been skimming through on my phone and stood up.
“I’ve got your back. You shake her up, and I’ll watch for any slip-ups that could reveal her real purpose here.”
Darius grinned at me with a sharpness to his eyes that leached any warmth from his expression. “Excellent. Let’s go tear her apart.”
It wasn’t difficult to find Anthea. We stopped by the guest bedroom where Dad had set her up first, and she answered the rap of Darius’s knuckles on the door with a brisk, “Yes?”
Darius simply opened the door, which didn’t have a lock even if Anthea would have wanted to use one. Which she probably would after our visit today. That thought niggled at me more than I liked as Darius headed into the room.
He only made it one step. Anthea must have sprung up at the click of the latch, because she was already there to intercept him before he got far enough to take his hand off the knob. She raised her chin, her scarlet hair flaming over her shoulders, her dark gray eyes glinting with annoyance.
“I don’t feel like entertaining visitors right now.”
Darius hummed. “I don’t think it’s really up to you when you’reourguest. We really ought to be entertaining you more. We’re failing as hosts. I figured I’d better make up for that oversight.”
He shouldered past her, and she had to pull back to avoid behind bowled over. When I stepped inside after my brother, she narrowed her eyes at me.
I gazed calmly back. It was best to focus on her face—and not, say, the sleek curves only partly hidden under the modest ‘50s style dress she was wearing.
Who was she kidding in that getup? Darius had been right calling her a black widow. Using her feminine appeal to get what she wanted was old hat for Anthea Noble. Too bad for her late husband.
Darius ambled through the room with a casual air, glancing over Anthea’s duffel bag set against the wall across from the bed, the blanket loosely tucked over the mattress, her purse on the side table, the view out the small window. I leaned against the dresser, and Anthea stayed next to me, holding the door open. I guessed I couldn’t blame her if she didn’t want to give Darius total privacy in which to torment her.
“This doesn’t feel very much like entertaining,” she said, her voice even and dry. “A lot more like spying. What do you think I’ve got in my luggage that you need to inspect? Should I empty it on the bed for you? Maybe you’re looking to steal a pair of panties to desecrate?”
Darius spun around, glowering at her. He’d come here to unsettle her, and she’d already managed to imply thathewas the one desperate for her attention. I couldn’t help admiring how neatly she’d done it, even as my hand clenched at my side.
She hadn’t been this formidable an opponent seven years ago. Of course, we hadn’t known she’d been an opponent at all. Maybe she had been hiding this much cutting derision behind her pretty smiles and bubbling laugh.
I yanked my mind away from those memories and focused on her reactions as Darius prowled closer. She held her ground, her jaw firm, but I caught the little hitch of her chest against her dress as he grasped the edge of the door and loomed over her, just inches away.
It wasn’t only wariness. Her pupils dilated too, her lips parting just the tiniest amount.
He did have an effect on her, as much as she obviously wanted to deny it.
“Is this better?” he drawled, smirking down at her. “The sort of entertainment you’re craving?”
“I’m not craving anything about you,” Anthea retorted.
“Sure, you are,” I said, quietly but clearly. “Anyone can see it. It’s no good lying to us. You wouldn’t have hooked up with us way back then if you hadn’t wanted to, and we were only boys then. Now you’re dealing with men. Why wouldn’t you want even more?”
I’d thought about it many times since that evening in our rooms when things had spiraled in a direction I didn’t think any of us had completely anticipated. Why had she gone for it? She hadn’t pushed for information. She’d had nearly free access to our rooms without using seduction as a gambit.