He spent decades alone, secluded in one estate or another, avoiding the outside world in order not to tamper with the future.Because living seven hundred years over gave a man the ability to see into the future.And while Christien had been recruited by a saint, he was no saint himself.He took advantage when he could, investing with the insight of a man who knew what was to come.
He was rich.Far richer than he’d ever been before.But even that he had to be careful of because he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.So he gave to charities.He, the man everyone avoided because of his acerbic tongue and monumental impatience, became a philanthropist.Even Michael laughed at the irony of that.
Something changed around two-hundred years ago and even to this day Christien couldn’t put his finger on what exactly it was that changed.His humanity began to poke through, much to his disgust.Maybe it was the annual reports sent to him against his will of the orphanages he funded, the poorhouses he fed.
Christien looked back on those first five-hundred years with regret and embarrassment.Thank God no one was alive to remember it.
Slowly he emerged from his cocoon and began the process of reconstructing the life he’d once lived.The life that led him to Madelaine.
Thirty years ago Christien learned of her and her sister’s birth.Those thirty years seemed longer than all seven hundred put together.He’d waited.Not patiently, but he’d waited and moved the pieces of the puzzles of his life so he would end up here, in Milwaukee, with the hopes that Madelaine would do the same.Without Lucheux to guide her, Christien had no way of knowing if she would come to this city and it worried him that he would miss her.Or have to go after her.
When the twins were separated, he made Michael put a guardian on Madelaine’s sister.She was safe, but not as well-adjusted as Madelaine.Her life had been far more difficult than Madelaine’s but there was nothing Christien could do about it.Sometimes life must roll on the way it was meant to.
Not interfering in Madelaine’s life had been much harder.He’d wanted to save her father’s farm from the government’s takeover.He’d even fantasized about creating a lottery with her the sole winner.Only extreme willpower kept him from doing either of those things.
Three weeks ago she moved to Milwaukee.She was living in the same apartment she’d lived in before, but worked for a different company.Happy and well-adjusted, she earned enough to keep her father in his expensive nursing home.
He’d wanted to rush to her apartment the moment he learned she was here, but restrained himself.He needed to let her come to him even though the wait was killing him—figuratively of course.
Michael agreed to Christien’s terms seven centuries ago.If Madelaine wanted to, she could become immortal.His prayer was that she would want to.If she didn’t, well, he would live with her decision and appreciate the time they had together.
God help him, he hoped she would want immortality.
He glanced at his watch again.Three minutes.
Still he didn’t move.He had no interest in the conference call.His business wasn’t his main concern anymore.
Madelaine.
Her name whispered across his soul, a balm to his jagged nerves.
He’d anticipated her arrival last week.The same night she’d arrived at his club the first time around.But the night had come and gone with no sign of Madelaine.In hindsight he should have realized his mistake.She wasn’t working for Lucheux because there was no Lucheux and therefore no one to send her to the club.
He turned on his heel and headed for the back exit, his feet taking him where his heart yearned to go.Since last week he’d strolled past her apartment nightly.Like a lovelorn fool, he stood on the street and stared up at her darkened windows, imagining her asleep in her bed, her body curled around her pillow.He’d walk away, restless and fighting the nearly uncontrollable impulse to knock on her door and tell her everything.
That would be disastrous, of course.He would push her away, scare her before they even had a chance.But still he wondered…
Did she dream of him like he dreamt of her?Was she as restless as he?Was she waiting for something to happen but wasn’t sure what?
Just as he put his hand on the back door commotion broke out on the dance floor.Christien hung his head, torn.Sabine could handle whatever was happening.She had the full force of his security personnel, all ex-military and ex-police.
With a curse he pushed away from the door and spun around, heading back to the dance floor with a frown of irritation.Fighting was not allowed in his club.He had a reputation for zero tolerance.He would handle this latest disturbance then go to Madelaine’s apartment.
The crowd parted at his, “Excuse me.”Whispered comments followed as they always did when he appeared at the club.
People made a wide circle on the dance floor, their eyes soaking in the disruption.In the middle of the circle was an obviously intoxicated gentleman with a beer bottle in one hand and a woman in the other.By the way the woman struggled Christien determined she wasn’t open to the drunkard’s advances.
“Getoffme,” she said, trying to yank her arm from the man’s grip.
Christien’s heart jackhammered and it had nothing to do with the altercation.
“I just wanna dance.”The man slurred his words and swayed, but it was the woman Christien focused on.
Her hair fell down her back in cascading waves of silky mink.She wore silly shoes with open toes that looked like they were pinching her feet and even though he was too far away, he could have sworn he smelled lavender.
He grabbed the collar of the drunk, wrenching him away from Madelaine.The man’s beer went flying.Madelaine ducked to avoid it.The crowd hushed and even the music stopped playing.
“What the—” The man’s outraged sputtering died when he saw who held him.“I just wanted to dance,” he said quickly, his eyes widening in fear.
