Hush (Black Lotus #3) (14 page)

I smile, hiding my grief behind the dark lenses.

“You ready?”

“Yes,” I respond, walking down the steps and taking one last look over to Pike, but he’s gone. I tell myself he’ll come back, because he always does.

Davina and I walk together to Bond Street where she assures me there is amazing shopping, and she’s spot on. It’s all the designers that still hang in my closet back at The Legacy. Familiar friends greet me as I pass them: Chanel, Jimmy Choo, Hermés. They’re all here, reminding me of how I used them to deceive others.

“Here we are,” she says, opening the door to Fenwick.

I walk inside the high-end luxury department store that Davina insists has a nice selection of less expensive designers as well. I told her I didn’t need anything fancy, just your typical, everyday wear.

I remove my sunglasses and begin to scan the racks and pull items I’m in need of. Davina wanders off to shop a few racks over. I fill my arms with jeans, slacks, casual tops, and soft cashmere sweaters before a sales associate takes them to start a fitting room for me.

We keep the chatter among us light as we try on clothes. She talks to me about one client of hers that’s a widow of an aristocrat who she swears is draining the family inheritance on a remodel.

“Her children are going to be bloody mad when they find out she’s pissed all the money away,” she says.

“How much money do you suspect?” I ask, tossing another top onto the yes pile.

“Around two hundred and fifty thousand pounds!” she exclaims. “The old woman has lost her mind.”

Once we’re dressed, we make our purchases and head to the second floor where Davina was able to get reservations on short notice at Bond & Brook. The restaurant is glamorous, gleaming in stark whites and silvers. We’re seated at a table next to the windows that look down on the street filled with people who are anxious to spend money.

“I could only get us in for the afternoon tea seating, I hope that’s okay with you.”

“Of course.”

Our waiter promptly sets our table with hot tea and Pommery Rosé champagne along with small bites, consisting of crab tartlets, butter pear beignets, and celery-cucumber sorbet.

“This looks amazing,” I say. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Of course. I’m just happy to see Declan sharing his life with someone. I was starting to worry he’d forever be alone.” She gives a whisper of a laugh, but I know she means the words she speaks. “It must have been love at first sight then?”

“Why do you say that?”

“He said the two of you met at the opening of Lotus. That was the beginning of December, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” I answer and then take a sip of tea.

“It’s April, and he’s already moved you in.”

“I guess you’re right.” I’m a bit surprised, but hide it. It feels like so much more time has passed since the night I met him. “I can’t believe it’s only been four months.”

“And I can’t believe he’s kept you a secret from me,” she quips with a smile before biting into one of the tartlets. “Well, I know you’re not working here in London, but what was it that you did when you lived abroad?”

“Um . . .” Declan told me to just answer the questions as Elizabeth, but I can’t do that. I dab my mouth with my napkin, stalling time, but it moves forward regardless. “I did a little bit of . . .” I think back to how I met Bennett and continue, “I worked in catering for a short period.”

I’m not sure if she picks up on my hesitation, but she goes on, saying, “That’s so funny. I worked in that realm after university. I was a bartender for a catering company in Edinburgh.”

“Really?”

“My parents aren’t like most. They paid my way through my studies, but once I graduated, they cut the credit cards, and I was on my own. It took me a while to find work, so in the mean time, I bartended,” she explains.

“Did you go to school with Declan?”

“No. Declan was an impeccable student. Me, not so much. I attended the University of Dundee.”

“Where’s that?”

“Just north of Saint Andrews where Declan went to school. Less than an hour’s drive, actually,” she tells me. “And what about you? Where did you go to University?”

“Where did I go?” I can’t possibly tell her the truth, so I cover my ass and lie. “Kansas State.” It’s the university I told Declan Nina attended, but I immediately kick myself for lying when Declan made it clear not to, and when I continue, I stumble over my words, knowing I need to right the lie. “Well, I mean . . .”
Fuck!

“Is everything okay?”

She sees right through me. When she stands, I wonder if somehow she knows I’m a fake. She comes to sit right next to me.

“Let me apologize,” she starts, and I don’t respond. I just let her continue. “I don’t mean to pry. I can see I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“No,” I say, attempting to cover myself. “I’m just a little on the private side.”

“I can understand that. It’s just, well, after Lillian’s death, Declan changed a lot. He isolated himself from nearly all the family. The two of us managed to keep close though, and we’ve remained that way,” she reveals. “I love him dearly, and when I spoke to him after our dinner the other night, he told me that you were an extension of him. So, I can’t help but love you as well because of that.”

Her words are heartfelt and take me aback. I can see no other motivations on her part aside from genuinely wanting to get to know me. Declan was right when he told me she was a good person, because that’s the very impression she’s giving me right now.

“I never went to college,” I admit to her, needing to erase the lie. “I’m sorry I lied. I guess I was just embarrassed.” Airing my truths is not what I’m used to. I’m a liar, a manipulator, an imposter. Or I
was
. But I’ve always been running from something, a runaway at the age of fourteen. Always dodging the law in one way or another. But today, right now, I’m going to choose to take a step forward as Elizabeth. If Davina believes as Declan does, that I’m an extension of him, she won’t judge. “I was a foster kid. I didn’t come from money, so college was never an option for me.”

She smiles and places her hand on top of mine in a gesture that is both comforting and foreign. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”

I nod, and after she gives my hand a light squeeze, she moves back to her seat across from me. She takes a sip of her champagne, smiles, and then adds in jest, “We should order more champagne . . . Declan’s treat.” She winks and pulls out one of his credit cards and laughs. “He slipped it to me when I picked you up in case you refused to use the other card he gave you.”

I shake my head. “That wretch!”

“Well, that wretch is going to pick up our tab.”

Conversation is less stressful now that the brick of worry and secrecy has been lifted off my shoulders. She asks about our trip back to the States, and I tell her all about Chicago. I’m not about to tell her my whole life story by any means, but for now, I’m enjoying the light conversation with someone other than Declan or Lachlan. Those two know so much of my darkness, but with Davina, I feel a little . . . de novo—and even a little normal.

I STUFF THE
manifest along with my notepad and contact list into a manila envelope and zip it up in my suitcase. Last night was another long night of letter scrambling. I know Declan thinks it’s nonsense, and maybe it is, but I refuse to sit idle and wait. I’ll always find a way to keep moving, because I have to, because I need to find him.

“Do you know where your duffle bag is? I need it for my workout clothes and trainers,” Declan asks.

“It’s on the top shelf on my side of the closet.”

I sit on the bed and wait for him to finish packing. He walks out of the closet with the bag, and I admire him in his fitted button-down that’s tucked nicely into his charcoal slacks. Always so polished and refined, even when he’s dressed down in jeans and a cotton shirt.

“You want to wipe the drool off your chin and help me?” he heckles when he peers up at me and catches me gawking.

“You’re so full of yourself,” I shoot back when I hop off the bed to go grab his shoes.

When I return and set the shoes on the bed beside the bag, I watch him pull out a picture frame. He holds it with both of his hands, and I remember it being the picture I found of him in Isla’s bedroom at The Water Lily.

“I forgot this was in here,” he says.

“You’ve seen it before?”

“When you were missing, I went through all your belongings, and I came across this,” he tells me. His eyes remain on the photo of himself as a little boy, and then he looks to me, asking, “Where did you get this?”

“At the bed and breakfast where I was staying. I found it in the owner’s bedroom.” I pause for a moment, and when he doesn’t speak, I ask, “It’s you, isn’t it? I mean, your name’s written on the back.”

“Yes. It’s me.”

I look at him in confusion and he reflects it back to me.

“Do you know her? Isla?”

“No. Did you ask her about this when you found it?”

“She wasn’t there. I found it when you were in London, and I had gone back to pack up the rest of my things. It was the day Richard kidnapped me.”

“This photo was taken at my parents’ home. This was the pond that was on the property. It would fill with lotus blooms, and my mum would spend hours out there.”

“Maybe she was friends with your mother,” I suggest.

“She never said anything. I saw her each time I went over there to visit you. If she knew me, why wouldn’t she say something?”

“Do you want to call her?”

He hands the picture over to me, saying, “We don’t have time. We need to get to the plane. I’ll deal with it when we get back.”

“Are you sure? You seemed bothered by this.”

“I’m not bothered,” he states and then throws his clothes and shoes into the bag before zipping it up. “You’re probably right. She must’ve been friends with my mum.”

He picks up the bag along with mine, and without another word, he walks out of the room, leaving me alone. Finding that photo has stirred up something inside him. His eyes exposed too much to me, more than he intended. Perhaps it was just the sheer memory of his mom, so I’ll respect his request to avoid it until after our trip.

We secure the apartment before leaving to drive to Biggin Hill Airport, where the pilot is already waiting for us. Aside from him, we are the only others on the plane.

“How long have you had this thing?” I ask as I settle into my seat that’s next to the window.

“This is more than just a
thing
. It’s a G450 Gulfstream jet,” he boasts, and I chuckle at him with a shake of my head.

“I see I’ve offended your toy,” I go on to pester.

He takes the seat right next to me instead of across from me.

“Buckle up, because this
toy
is about to takeoff,” he says with a sexy smirk and then reaches over to fasten my seatbelt for me, yanking on the strap to tighten it.

The plane is extravagant with its white leather seats and espresso wood finishes that add a masculine contrast. Double seats on the left and single seats on the right with a beverage station in the back next to a decent sized lavatory. There’s a flat screen television above the small eating table towards the front of the aircraft next to the cockpit.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” I say as he fastens his seatbelt, “I like your toy.”

“As long as my baby’s happy.”

The pilot looks over his shoulder from his seat in the cockpit, saying, “We’ve been cleared for takeoff, sir. Are you ready?”

“We’re ready, William.”

“Would you like privacy for the flight?”

“Yes.”

I look to him, perplexed with a grin, and question, “You didn’t want privacy last time?”

“That’s because Lachlan was with us.”

His flirtations spark the tinder inside me, but he simply winks and takes my hand in his, threading his fingers with mine as the aircraft begins to move.

“Prepare for takeoff,” the pilot’s voice announces over the speaker.

I grip Declan’s hand tighter when the plane speeds up.

“You nervous?”

I look out the window as we lift off and ascend into the sky.

“Elizabeth?”

I roll my head over to him and nod, my fingers fixed around his. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, and I close my eyes as I lean into his touch.

“Talk to me.”

I blink my eyes open. “It feels weird going back. Everyone there knows me as Nina. I can’t be anything but
her
in that city.”

“I know,” he says, voice drowning in compassion.

“Does that bother you? Because it bothers me.”

“It’s part of who we are.”

“But does it bother you?” I ask again.

Shrugging his shoulders, he admits, “Somewhat. But we’re in this together. I’ll do what I can to make this trip short and uneventful.”

My stomach is in knots, wishing one of my many endless wishes to extinguish memories that are unvanquishable. I want to break out of the cobwebs I’ve spun that now cling to me like sand to a pearl. I’m no pearl though, more like the goop that embodies the pearl within the oyster. And I have to wonder, if beneath my protective shell, if you dug deep enough through the slime, would there be a morsel of purity?