But no.
I wasn’t thinking about the million things I should be thinking about; I was thinking about one thing and one thing only.
The woman in gold.
I was still thinking about the woman in gold.
Elaine fucking Constantine.
I roused Trenton from his slumber when I called him this time.
“What?” he asked. “Was the girl no good?”
I laughed. “She was good enough. This is about something else. Someone else.”
Even Trenton baulked when I gave him his next instructions.
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” he said.
4 Elaine
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Tristan’s face was a picture, hands in his hair as he paced my lounge.
“He didn’t tell anyone,” I told him. “Even Silas had more sense than that.”
“Yeah, but he could have. He could have gone straight out of there and told the whole ball that Lucian Morelli was in the building. You wouldn’t be standing here, Elaine. There’s no way your mom would let you sleep at night knowing you’d had any of the Morelli’s fingers inside you, let alone his.”
I found myself shrugging. “Plenty of things could have happened. Lucian Morelli could have broken my neck and taken a handful of others down with me before security got to him and blew him away. But he didn’t.”
Tristan Fields had been my best friend and most trusted ear in this world since I was twelve years old. He’d seen me do plenty of crazy shit in the past thirteen years, but nothing had ever made him stare at me like I was this crazy. I guess I’d topped the pinnacle of crazy Elaine. A high mountain to climb, but I’d managed it.
I swigged back another gulp of gin. “It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again.”
“I’d fucking hope not. Believe me, baby, I’d be telling your mom myself if I thought that was gonna happen. You’d stand more chance of making it out alive with her on your case than him. Close call, but I know where I’d put my cash.”
I closed my eyes to ease off my thump of a hangover, but it made no difference. My brain was jammed plenty by Tristan carrying on his speech.
“You do know he was playing you, right? He probably thinks you’re an easy road into Constantine life. If he didn’t think he could trick you into giving him what he needs, he’d have killed you the very second he had you alone.”
Something about that offended me. It may not have made any sense that it did, because he was probably right. Tristan’s words made perfect sense. Still, it offended me. Something about that concept twisted my heart and made it hurt.
I was stupid. Totally stupid. Stupid to want to believe there was anything other than hate and purpose behind Lucian grabbing me at Tinsley’s party . . . but, stupid or not, I wanted there to be. Some twisted, fucked up part of me wanted there to be.
I shrugged again. “Yeah, he was probably playing me.”
“Definitely. He was definitely playing you.”
I stared at him. “Yeah, he was playing me. Like I said, I’m never going to see him again. What does it matter?”
He tipped his head and matched my stare. His eyes were cold, green pools of disapproval, and I hated that. Tristan was always on my side.
“If you see him again, Lainey, you have to scream and run, understand? No matter how slick he is with his fingers, you have to scream and run. No excuses.”
“Of course I would run,” I told him, telling myself at the same time. “I might have been reckless, but I’m not that insane.”
The way he shook his head showed me he didn’t believe me. In that moment, he thought I was as insane as the rest of the world did. I felt offended all over again, but I didn’t say anything. I deserved this.
I always did.
“Have you told Harriet yet?” he asked.
“No.”
“Hopefully Silas doesn’t tell her before you do.”
“Silas doesn’t tell Harriet anything. He may be her brother, but they have about as much in common as a swan and a boar.”
He smirked at that. “I’m not sure Silas would like the analogy.”
I smirked back, even through my hangover. “He can be a boar.”
“In actions, not in visuals.”
“Still, he can be a boar. An attractive boar, but a boar all the same.”
“True enough.”
He sat down alongside me and took hold of my hand. His fingers were strong. It was the kind of strength I’d enjoyed for years, him sitting next to me as we whispered through our fears and struggles.
I knew what suggestion was coming before he spoke.
“Can you go back to Dr. Karlin again? I think you need it.”
“Therapy makes no difference. It’s never made any difference.”
He squeezed my fingers. “You don’t let it make any difference.” He gestured to the glass in my other hand. “It stands a shit ton more chance of working than gin, or champagne, or coke.”
My defences came up. “I’m not doing as much of any of them as I did.”
I felt his eyes on me. Again, I could feel the disapproval. “That’s not what Harriet said. I saw her at the Aegean last week, and she said Jonesy was telling her just how much you’ve been buying.”
My cheeks burned. “Jonesy shouldn’t be telling Harriet anything. It’s not her business.”
“Even he is worried.”
“He shouldn’t be.”
“I’m worried, Lainey. Really fucking worried.”
He took the drink from my hand.
I groaned. “Quit it, will you? I’m fine.”
I’d always been a liar – I’d needed to be – but even I was pushing it. I was less fine than I’d ever been in my life, and again, that was a high mountain to climb. Or more like a deep swamp to sink to the bottom of.
Sometimes I wished I could find the voice to say what I truly needed to say. I wished I could summon up the words to confess just how broken I was inside and why. Secrets, secrets, shhh, little girl. I wished I could
