The Taking (28 page)

Oh, God. Poor choice of words.

Regan felt a hysterical laugh burble up inside her.

Without checking to see who it was on the phone, she answered. “Hello?”

She would talk to anyone if it meant she didn’t have to be alone with her disturbing thoughts.

“Hi, Regan, how are you?”

It was Beau. Regan squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m actually not feeling very well, Beau. I think I have a stomach flu. Can I call you back later?”

There was a pause and she knew he was getting his anger under control. “The stomach flu or morning sickness perhaps? Has your new boyfriend knocked you up already? I know how much you always wanted kids.”

Oh, no. The nausea returned full force, and dropping the phone in her lap, Regan leaned over the toilet and hurled the contents of her hurried lunch into the bowl. She heaved four or five times, her body ensuring that every last bit of food and fluid was evacuated. When she was sure she was finished, she wiped her tearing eyes on the sleeve of her black cardigan and took a shaky breath.

Shuddering, she reached for her phone. The asshole was actually still on the line.

“Well, that was charming,” he said.

“I’ll call you back,” she managed, running her finger over her saliva-splattered lip.

“No, you won’t. So you’re going to sit there and listen to me now.”

“I’m in the public restroom. I’m not doing this with you right now.” Hopefully, they could do this never. She had no desire to discuss Felix with her ex-husband.

“I’m impressed,” he said, like she hadn’t spoken. “It didn’t take you long to find an idiot willing to put up with your petulance and your overdrinking. Though I have to say I’m surprised you went for the voodoo guy. He doesn’t seem your type ... a little dirty for your tastes. And aren’t you worried he’s fucking you to get to your money?”

That pissed her off enough to have her hauling herself off the cold floor. “It’s none of your damn business. And don’t tell me you’re living in celibacy because I won’t believe you.”

“He’ll get bored with you, you know. You can’t hold the interest of a man like that”

Regan paused, hand on the stall door. Damn it. He had hit on her very real fear. She did worry that she was too staid, too ordinary, too boring for Felix. But she wasn’t about to let Beau know that.

“Or maybe he won’t hold
my
interest,” she told Beau. “Like what happened for me with you.”

It felt good to say it, to hear the pause where she knew she’d shocked him, where she’d landed a direct hit he had never anticipated she would sally at him. She strode out of the stall, head held high.

When he said, “Bitch,” Regan only smiled at herself in the mirror above the sink.

“Asshole,” she said in return and hung up the phone.

It felt damn, damn good.

Felix had been planning to meet Regan for dinner after work, but he knew something was wrong when he spoke to her on the phone. She sounded anxious and unfocused. So knowing she wasn’t planning to leave her house for another thirty minutes, Felix decided to meet her there instead and walk to the restaurant with her. It would give them time to talk, and he could ferret out if something was bothering her.

She had given him the key to the courtyard gate, and he used it, sending a text message to her so she wouldn’t jump out of her skin when he came in the house. Heading into the kitchen, he didn’t see her on the first floor, and didn’t hear her on the second. The house was so damn big, he could wander for ten minutes before he found her, so he sent her another text asking her where she was.

My bedroom
was her short response.

Now he was really worried. She didn’t sound like her usual cheerful self at all. Felix bounded up the steps and jogged down the hall to her room. He skidded to a stop in the doorway.

Regan was sitting on the edge of her bed, face pale, still dressed in the Capri pants and sweater set he had seen her leave for work in that morning. Normally when she got home she changed into jeans. But she was just sitting there, legs crossed at the ankles, staring down at her hands in her lap.

“Hey.”

She looked up. “Hi.”

“What are you doing? Is everything okay?” He looked around the room for any outward signs of an interaction with Camille. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the room, everything neat and tidy the way she had left it that morning. Regan was always neat, unlike him.

Wondering if she was even awake, Felix started walking toward her. It was then he realized she had her left hand up and was staring at it. Or more accurately staring at the wedding ring she was wearing. He sat down next to her on the bed and took her hand, studying the expensive and elegant ring.

Running his thumb over the diamond, he asked, “Why are you wearing your wedding ring?”

“Beau called me today. He was quite horrible. He knows about you. I’m not sure how, but he does.”

Felix fought the fear, the memory of pain, of pressure, of darkness flooding over him. It didn’t matter. He had known what he was risking, had known there was no way Alcroft wouldn’t find out at some point. Felix was practically living with Regan. And it was worth it. She was worth it. Being with her brought him the closest to happy he had ever been.

“I take it he wasn’t exactly thrilled that we’re seeing each other?” Felix had no doubt Alcroft had been scathing in his opinion of Felix.

“No. He told me I didn’t waste any time finding some fool willing to take on the mess that I am.”

“That’s anger and jealousy. You are not a mess, Regan. You’re an amazing, giving, compassionate woman.” Felix watched her twist the ring on her finger and fought the urge to reach out and yank it off.

“He asked if you had gotten me pregnant. Isn’t that an odd thing for him to ask?”

Felix’s heart almost stopped. “Did I get you pregnant?” He had no idea how he felt about that. He had never thought he would have children, but maybe, with a woman like Regan ... A whole different vision of the future popped up before him in ten seconds.

“No, of course not. I’m on the pill.”

The family-man future disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. It was ridiculous anyway, totally impractical and irresponsible for him to even consider bringing a child into this world. “Right.”

“I just thought it was weird that he would ask that.” Regan still sounded unfocused, her voice distant and reserved. She kept lifting her hand and checking out the wedding ring.

“So what about that phone conversation had you coming home and putting on your wedding ring?” he asked, gently. It needed to come off. The longer it sat on her finger, the greater potential there was for her to fall back under the influence of Alcroft.

“I’d never taken it out of the evening bag I’d thrown it in the night I left him, and I came home thinking I should pull it out and sell it. That it was time to deal with it instead of keeping it tucked away in a purse. I felt ready to handle getting rid of it, instead of ignoring it. This is a valuable ring ... I can swap it for different jewelry or just take the cash.”

Felix waited. There was clearly more and he wanted her to say it unprompted.

“So I took it out and I just thought it feels so good not to wear it ... what would it feel like back on my finger? I put it on, and it feels heavy and oppressive and awful, and yet, it’s like I can’t take it off. It’s like it’s whispering to me, asking me if I made a mistake, even as my brain knows I did not make a mistake. I could never go back. Yet every time I think I should pull the ring off, my hand never moves.”

That was all he needed to hear. Reaching over, Felix tugged the ring off her finger. It would be better if she took it off herself, but he wasn’t about to wait around and see if that happened or not.

“Ouch!” she protested. “You scratched me.”

“Sorry.” Closing his fist around the ring, he dropped his hand down on his thigh so the ring was nowhere near her, and leaned over and kissed her ring finger and the tiny scratch he had made removing it. “Don’t put his ring on again, please.”

Regan shivered and looked at him with wide eyes. “Felix, that was so weird. It was like the second you pulled it off, I felt this pain, then relief. Just instant relief. I sound crazy, don’t I? All the time, I just sound insane.”

“No, you don’t.” He lifted the ring and looked on the inside for the inscription he knew would be there.
“Ego own vos.
Do you know what that means?”

“It means ‘we belong together’ or something like that. Beau said it’s Latin.”

“The literal translation is much less romantic than what he told you. It actually means ‘I own you.’”

“‘I own you’?” Regan’s eyebrows shot up. “No, that’s not romantic at all.”

“It’s a binding ring. When you wear it, you feel compelled to be with the person who gave it to you.”

Regan looked at her bare hand. “A binding ring? But wouldn’t that mean it had a spell put on it? That’s totally not like Beau at all ... he wouldn’t believe in something that out there.”

Which went to show you how well she knew the man she had married. She had been lured and blinded by his charm and the very spells she didn’t think he would believe in. “You’d be surprised what people will do.”

“That’s true. And it did make me feel that way . . . like I couldn’t take it off. It was weird.” She shuddered. “This has been a very weird day. Hell, every day has been weird since I bought this house. Do you think it’s cursed?” Regan pressed her temples. “God, I can’t even believe I just said that out loud.”

“I don’t know what is going on in this house. There is definitely something here, and it’s wise to be on guard. But not all things that have happened in this house are weird.” Felix took her hand into his and stroked it. “It’s where we found each other, after all.”

“That’s true.” Her eyes softened as she looked at him.

Felix loved that look she got, the one that said she did care about him, more than just as a means to an end, but him. The man. The person. She cared about him. “If none of these weird things had happened, we probably wouldn’t have met again after the Christmas party. And what a shame that would have been.”

“That would have been a shame. Having you here, with me, well ... it’s been amazing, Felix.”

When had anyone ever told him his presence mattered? Intense, powerful feelings welled up in him. He kissed her, a soft, gentle press. “I just want you to know that I’m falling in love with you.”

Her breath hitched. “Are you serious?”

Felix gave a soft laugh. “Oh, hell yes, I’m serious. When have you ever known me to say something I don’t mean, especially when it comes to emotion?”

He didn’t know where it could go, how long it could last. He didn’t know if Alcroft would kill him or exact a long and painful punishment. And even if he survived that and Regan didn’t think he had abandoned her, Felix didn’t know how any sort of relationship between them could last, given that he would never age.

But he wanted her to know. He wanted her to see and feel and believe that he loved her.

And he wanted to enjoy the pleasure of her company, the contentment she brought him, while it lasted. It would go sour, he had no doubt of it, but for now, he could close his eyes, breathe in her scent and affection, and feel happy.

“I’m falling in love with you, too,” she said, her thumb skimming over his hand. “I think you see me more clearly than any man I’ve ever been with.”

“Thank you,” he said, squeezing her hand harder and leaning in to press his forehead against hers. “For making me feel alive again.”

Regan pulled back, expression puzzled. “What happened to you? Who hurt you? You can tell me anything, you know.”

He hadn’t meant for her to come to that conclusion. It wasn’t the truth, not exactly. “No one hurt me. I hurt myself with some bad choices. I’ll tell you about it someday. Just not today.”

She paused, like she was going to press, but then she nodded. “Okay. I’m here for you.”

“I appreciate it.” Felix stood up, her hand still in his. “I have something for you.” He hadn’t bought a woman a gift in a very long time and he felt suddenly insecure. “It’s no pearl necklace, but I saw it and I thought it would look pretty on you.”

Felix pulled the hot pink scarf out of the bag and draped it around her neck. “It seems like a lot of women are wearing these now and this color with your eyes ... I just thought it would look nice.”

And he was going to shut up because he sounded like an idiot, and he felt even stupider.

Regan smiled, a soft pleased smile. “You bought me a pink scarf? That seems very appropriate. I love it, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He almost said that he would give her anything, anything she wanted, anything that was within his grasp, but instead he just kissed her softly.

“I have something for you, too.” She turned and rustled around in her purse before pulling out a small brown bag. Opening it, she withdrew a chain necklace and held it up. “For your cross. You must miss wearing it.”