The Fortune Teller(12)

The desire in his eyes made her forget every thought running through her mind. She wanted him—had wanted him from the first moment they met. Their lips locked, seeking each other, and the tension that had been building between them all these weeks turned into an insatiable dance. It was as though a hand reached inside and turned her like a spinning top.

“Semele,” he whispered and lifted her up.

She felt the table beneath her and his hands as they slid along the silk of her stockings. She leaned back, taking him with her as the kiss deepened. They were almost unable to stop.

It was Theo who pulled away. His breath sounded ragged as he ushered an apology. “I’m sorry.”

Those two words jolted her back to reality. She was lying across the examining table in her client’s arms.

Semele opened her eyes and saw a myriad of emotions play across Theo’s face before his gaze shuttered and the connection between them was severed.

He backed away and gave her room to stand. Her legs wobbled, her whole world off-kilter. She had no idea how to handle the situation—she couldn’t find her voice.

“Forgive me,” he said, sounding like a repentant gentleman from the 1800s. His stilted manner made everything worse. She could barely focus on what he was saying. “I’m afraid I let myself get carried away.” He seemed to be waiting for her response.

“Me too,” she stammered like an idiot.

Before she could recover, he said, “Forgive me,” once more and strode off toward his father’s study. “Safe travels, Miss Cavnow.”

The door closed behind him with a definitive click.





Knight of Swords

After Theo’s exit, Semele crashed back to reality. Her first thought was of Bren.

How could she have done this to him? A flush spread over her as she pictured herself with Theo.

She berated herself while she waited for the courier to come pick up the crates. An endless hour of waiting. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She was half tempted to call Bren right then and confess.

Tomorrow marked their two-year anniversary. Now she had this—this nightmare, this shame—blackening everything.

A million times she questioned why he had kissed her.

Theo Bossard was a client. They had barely spoken the whole time she was here, and now he dared to leave her with that send-off? It wasn’t as if she could have a fling with a man who lived four thousand miles away, even if she weren’t with Bren—and she was.

The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that Theo had seduced her for sport. If she hadn’t had that damn wine, none of this would have happened.

For the rest of the evening she tried to forget. She ate dinner back at the hotel without tasting a thing. She packed her suitcase on autopilot and then stood under the shower, eyes closed, hoping Theo’s memory would wash away with the water.

She didn’t know how she could tell Bren or how he’d react. The past year had been difficult for them. They had been about to move in together when her father died and they’d agreed to put their plans on hold. Bren had helped her through her father’s death and the rift that had occurred between her and her mother when, after the funeral, Semele had discovered the secrets her parents had been keeping from her.

She kept thinking at some point she and Bren would return to how they were their first year together, before her family had fallen apart. They had been “that couple” in the park on Sundays, lying on a blanket and taking turns resting their heads on each other’s stomachs, while reading books in the sunlight. They cooked dinner together, went grocery shopping together, and for Valentine’s Day they even took a couples’ massage class to learn each other’s pressure points.

All that had changed after the funeral.

Semele mourned by losing herself in her work. It was perhaps the biggest source of tension in their relationship. Bren tried to be patient. They still had their own apartments even though they usually spent the night together.

She knew talk of the future would come up again tomorrow night over dinner. And here she was, sabotaging everything.

Lost in thought, at first she didn’t register the strange noise outside the bathroom.

She heard the shuffle again and turned off the water. Someone was in her hotel room.

She stood paralyzed in the shower until instinct kicked in and she reached out to secure the bathroom lock.

She waited breathlessly, dripping wet, with her ear to the door.

Outside there was a sudden swoosh of movement and the quiet click of a door closing.

Frantic, she wrapped a towel around her body and looked for a weapon. She grabbed the only hard thing she could find—the hair dryer.

The adrenaline coursing through her was a rush unlike anything she’d ever felt before. She undid the lock and charged out with a scream.

The room was empty.

Still charging, still screaming—she whipped open the door and ran down the hall, clutching the towel around her while holding her hair dryer out like pepper spray.

The hall was empty too.

She stopped running and turned a full circle, then lowered the arm holding the dryer. She looked deranged.

An elderly couple stepped off the elevator, and the three stared at each other for an awkward moment. Then the old man gave her a wink.

With an embarrassed smile, Semele hurried back to her room, but not before hearing the woman whisper, “American.”