Beneath These Scars (Beneath #4)(33)

My chuckle came out more like a snort.

“That’s better. I’m only telling you because it just seemed out of character for him. And if we were talking about anyone but Lucas Fucking Titan, I’d say he’s into you. Like maybe for real.”

Whoa. Now it was time for Elle to hold up.

“Excuse me?”

“He was concerned and stuff. Wanted to know about the shop, and if we knew why you’d gotten spooked out of staying at your apartment.” Her tone turned cautious, and maybe a little reprimanding. “By the way, what the hell was up with that? Why didn’t you call me? Did it have anything to do with . . . him?” Meaning he who shall not be named, at least in Elle’s book.

I appreciated her caution when bringing him up, but first things first. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing really. Except maybe that you found out Harriet was selling the place and you were looking to buy it. I hope you don’t care.”

I would have preferred Titan not know any details about my personal life, but apparently that ship had sailed.

“It’s fine. Just don’t share anything else with him. Not that you probably need to—I’m assuming he has the resources to find out anything he wants to know.” Although knowing how well my former father-in-law had covered things up with my ex-husband, it might even be a challenge for Titan to find. The proceedings were all kept closed, the records sealed. Money could buy you a lot of things in this town, including silence.

“So, are you going to tell me what the hell is going on? Did the voodoo doll you made not do the trick?”

Elle was referring to the voodoo doll I’d made of Jay the night Valentina had told me he’d been approved for parole. It had been one of those impulse things, something to make me feel better and take out my fear and frustration and anger on. It had helped, for that night at least. Elle had been her usual amazing self and hadn’t wanted me to be alone. And now here I was, home, in an apartment that no longer felt safe.

“Not exactly,” I said, finally responding to her question.

“Is there something you need to tell me about, Yve?”

I debated how much to say. I wanted to tell her everything, but I also wasn’t looking to lay my problems on Elle’s doorstep. I had to stand on my own two feet and deal with this myself, but I could share at least some of it.

“I think I’m just flipping out because I know he’s out, but I don’t know where he is.”

“Oh shit. That’s not cool.”

“No. It isn’t. And I think maybe I’m just jumping at shadows. I don’t know.”

“Look, babe. Trust your gut. If you think something isn’t right, chances are it’s not, okay? Don’t write something off as crazy just because you’re a little jumpy.”

Her advice was certainly solid. And I would take it—by being extra careful.

“Okay.”

“And promise you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.”

“And you’ll call me if anything freaks you out.”

I hesitated for a fraction of a second. This was my problem. “I love you, Elle.”

“Yve, don’t think I’m missing the fact that you didn’t promise.”

“’Bye, babe.”

“’Bye, hon.”

I hung up, feeling marginally less crazy, but a hell of a lot more pissed off. I had a visit to pay to Mr. Titan.




I felt like I was storming the castle as I screeched to a halt in front of Titan’s place.

Damn gate. He truly was a king behind his fancy wrought-iron fence, probably sitting up in his tower counting his billions and meddling in people’s lives like they were pawns.

I climbed out of the Blue Beast, stalked up to the intercom buzzer, and pressed the button. A familiar voice answered.

“Ms. Santos, lovely to see you this evening.”

Confused, I glanced around, looking for the camera.

“It’s built into the intercom panel, my dear,” Jerome replied, reading my movements accurately. “Please come right in.”

The latch of the gate clicked and released, and I slipped inside. Striding up to the house, I tried to get my thoughts in order. What exactly was I going to say to him?

Stay the hell out of my life?

If you want to know something about me, then you damn well better ask me and not my friends?

Why are you invading my thoughts when I don’t want you there?

Okay, that last one I’d keep to myself. But everything else was fair game.

Jerome was standing at the open front door when I reached it. “Don’t you look lovely this evening, Yve. It’s wonderful to see you again so soon.”

I glanced down at my dress. It was a retro white number I’d picked up on eBay. It was after Labor Day, so my mama would have said I shouldn’t have been wearing white. But guess what, I didn’t care. I’m a rebel like that.

“Thank you, Jerome,” I replied, trying to be polite, but I was a woman on a mission. “I don’t mean to be rude, but where the hell is he?”

Jerome’s lips quirked into a smile, and I could swear his eyes twinkled. “He’s having a swim. Do you know where the pool room is located?”

The familiar heat of my blush rose in my cheeks. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”