Did he have the same dreams?Did he know about her before they even met?
What if theyhadlived another life together?What did that mean?
And there were other thoughts, darker thoughts she kept avoiding but knew she couldn’t avoid any longer.
Why was she pushed into oncoming traffic?And why did Christien think he was responsible?
You are my Achilles heel, Madelaine.
His statement shocked her.Could it have happened so fast?And yet, didn’t she feel the same about him?How many times had she been tempted to forget everything—her job, the mounting debt and the crushing responsibility to her father—to be with Christien?
The man confused her and that was precisely why she needed to find out more about him.She needed a plan to protect herself against him.
Do you really need protecting from Christien?
Yes, but not the physical kind.She didn’t fear that he would hurt her.Her fear stemmed from the emotional damage.Already she was falling in love with him and it scared her.Did he feel the same?And if he did could she trust that his love was genuine and not for the woman of her dreams?
And, let’s be honest, how much of her love was tied to the dark knight in her dreams?
This was such a mess.When they were together it was like four people were in the room instead of two and the emotions were jumbled between all of them.She had no doubt Madelaine and Christien loved with a rare intensity, but what of the Lainie and Christien of modern times?How did their feelings fit into all of this?
She pounded her fist into the bed Christien had deposited her in when they reached his apartment.Why couldn’t anything be simple?Why did it seem that lately everything she touched turned into the biggest complication?She couldn’t meet a nice man who made a good living and liked her for her.No, she had to find a man who believed they were the reincarnation of another couple from centuries ago.
And the fact remained she knew little about him except for what she read on the internet, which was scarce and sketchy.Not one article mentioned his childhood except to say he grew up in France and his parents were dead.He graduated from Cambridge University with a degree in finance and in the early nineties moved to the United States where he quickly rose to become one of the richest men in the nation.He was known for his uncanny ability to refurbish large sections of cities, taking what had once been rundown, drug-infested gang hangouts to bustling business and entertainment complexes.Milwaukee was merely one of many examples.
He was a confirmed bachelor who dated but never exclusively and from the vague information she’d been able to glean from the internet, he never stayed with a woman longer than two or three dates.
All of that was interesting and information Lainie filed away in her memory but it didn’t tell her anything about the man.What made him tick?Why did he prefer to lead the life of a loner?What was his life like before he entered Cambridge University?
Only one way to find out.She had to snoop.
Slowly she slid off the sumptuous bed.He’d given her the same extravagant bedroom he’d given her Saturday night.She’d been relieved he didn’t expect her to share his bed.At the moment, her emotions were out of control and she didn’t trust herself to make the right decision when it came to Christien Chevalier.When she was near him, he was everything she wanted, but when they were apart, he scared her.Or more specifically, her emotions concerning him scared her.
She quietly padded down the hall, her feet sinking into the deep plush carpet.She stuck to her rule of no pain medication and after a full day in the hospital the pain had eased, but not altogether.The nurses said each day would be better than the last and so far they were right.She was still stiff, but her head didn’t hurt as much.If she didn’t move her shoulder, the pain was manageable.
Christien’s home was quiet.The nightclub wouldn’t open for a few more hours, but he assured her she wouldn’t hear it from her room.She didn’t doubt it.Christien had managed to create an oasis amidst the chaos of his life.A retreat that held the outside world at bay.She envied him this solitude and wished she was able to forget her responsibilities for one night.
Sabine was somewhere in the building, her number programmed into Lainie’s phone in case she needed anything, but she had no plans to call Sabine.Christien left not long after making sure she was settled in, claiming he had things to take care of, but would be back in a few hours.She had time to do what needed to be done.
Breath held, she slowly pushed open the door to his bedroom, guilt churning in her stomach for what she was about to do.But guilt didn’t stop her from stepping in or turning in a circle, her mouth open in awe.His decorator was truly talented.When she first saw his living quarters the other night she’d been taken aback by the heavy wood furniture and rich colors, but the more she got to know Christien the more she realized this was more like him.Not the stark simplicity of his office space, but this Old World charm that reminded her of an era long gone.A few touches of the modern world intruded, like the expensive sound system continually playing soothing jazz and the flat-screen television in each bedroom.Even the electrical lighting seemed like an invasion.
The largest canopy bed she’d ever seen dominated the room.Made of intricately carved mahogany, it boasted four posters standing at least seven feet tall, but that wasn’t what amazed her.What amazed her were the heavy velvet curtains tied to each poster and the matching midnight-blue bedspread made of the same velvet.Who had a velvet bedspread?
Tentatively she reached out and stroked the fabric, closing her eyes in ecstasy at the sumptuousness of the soft velvet.What would it feel like to lie naked on such a bed with the curtains pulled tight against the world?
The thought had her yanking her hand back.She had no business daydreaming of lying naked in Christien’s bed.Those thoughts only led to trouble.
Her guilt ratcheted up a few notches when she pulled open dresser drawers and riffled through them.His clothes were almost as much of a delight to touch as the bed.Christien Chevalier didn’t believe in synthetic fibers.He liked real cotton, slippery silk, superfine linen and smooth-as-butter leather.He liked cashmere sweaters, wool trousers and satin sheets.
Satin sheets with velvet bedspreads.She shook her head and turned her attention to the closet.
But neither the closet nor the dresser provided any more insight into the mind of Christien Chevalier.
Her feet took her to a large—everything in this room was large—bookcase stuffed with well-used books.Not the kind you bought in a shop by the dozen to make it look like you were a reader.These had been read and reread.Lainie tilted her head, perusing the titles, surprised to find nonfiction titles likeA History of the End of the World,Exposition of the Book of Revelation,andA Reader’s Guide to the Book of Revelation.In fact, every book on the shelves had something to do with the Book of Revelation.
Lainie had been raised in a religious household.Her parents were devout Catholics.Not the Bible-thumping type, but they believed in going to church every Sunday and made sure Lainie was educated in the faith.So Lainie knew about the Book of Revelation and the prophecy of the end of the world.She didn’t remember exactly what the book was about, other than it had to do with the seven seals and the four horsemen.
Why would Christien be interested in the last book of the Bible to the point that was all he read?
