Lie to Me (Pearl Island Trilogy #4)(5)
Was Chloe Davis attracted to him? The thought had him pushing his wet hands into his hair to keep his mind from blowing. Talk about a dream come true.
What would happen, though, when he told her who he was?
In his world of diehard gamers, telling a woman he was Luc Renard, creator and as-yet-undefeated champion of Vortal, usually meant a guaranteed score. Being featured in a Fortune article on the new breed of billionaires had the same effect on women who didn’t care about his game. None of those women, however, had ever seen the old Luc. The nerd version. That’s what Chloe would remember, though. She’d been a sassy and confident tomboy who fit in equally well with football jocks and popular girls, while he hadn’t been worth her time.
Would her current attraction overcome her memory of him as the chubby kid in dorky glasses who spent every moment with his nose glued to a gaming device?
As much as that possibility appealed to him, it also complicated things. He hadn’t made this trip with any expectation of hooking up with Chloe. He’d come to get his grandmother’s necklace back. If remembering him didn’t kill her attraction, finding out why he’d come would likely do it. According to the article he’d read, she’d had to fight hard to be declared owner of the ancient piece of jewelry. How thrilled would she be when he took it away from her?
“Great,” he said as he started up the hill. His fantasy girl finally showed a spark of interest, and he had to end it before he could even enjoy it. For one brief second, he thought about blowing off the necklace and pursuing Chloe instead.
The idea brought him up short. What was he thinking? Forgetting about the necklace was not an option. To the rest of the world, the pendant with a tiny mirror in its center might be a major historical find. To him and his grandmother, it was far more personal. Far more powerful.
When most people looked into the mirror, they saw only their reflection, while others saw vague images that made no sense. For his grandmother, the mirror had increased her natural gift of sight. With its help, she’d become one of the most celebrated fortunetellers in the French Quarter.
After losing it, she’d stopped telling fortunes all together.
Mémère would always be a colorful part of the French Quarter community, but sometimes he felt as if a part of her was missing. She’d assured him repeatedly that she accepted the loss, but he feared her brave face hid a deep well of grief. The minute he’d shown her the article about Chloe finding the necklace, she’d broken down and wept, begging him to go to Galveston. To go after the mirror.
No way would he return home without it.
Firming his resolve, he walked up the trail to the inn, where Chloe and the children had already gone inside.
“Is the boy okay?” one of the guests on the veranda asked.
“He’s fine,” Luc assured.
A sign on the front door said Welcome, Come On In, so he did. The air-conditioned interior enveloped him and his eyes went temporarily blind after the bright sunlight on the beach.
When his vision adjusted, he found himself in a central hall wide enough to serve as a lobby. Wood-paneled walls and a high ceiling gave the space an imposing presence, especially with the sailing ships and sea serpents that had been carved into the thick crown molding. Adding a softer touch, Victorian armchairs and a settee had been grouped before a massive fireplace where someone had filled the hearth with flowers in deference to the warm weather. Beyond the sitting area, a grand staircase swept up the back wall under a tall, stained glass window that bathed the landing in jewel-toned light.
Now this, he thought, is a house worthy of a notorious shipping baron. Power and wealth hung in the air. Even the dust motes gleamed like tiny flecks of gold.
A brand new world for Vortal sprang to life in his brain. He couldn’t wait to add booby traps around every corner. The ideas came one after another, even as he looked for Chloe.
Poking about, he found a gift shop to the left of the front door. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves told him the room had originally served as a library. The feminine tea sets, dolls, and knickknacks that filled the shelves now seemed an affront to such a masculine domain. For Vortal, he’d return it to its original purpose and add secret passages behind the bookcases. At the desk in the center of the room, which now served as a display table, he imagined a dark-haired, sinister man in pre-Civil-War tailcoat and breeches. Getting past him would be one of the challenges.
Toying with potential scenarios, he crossed the lobby to investigate the room in the base of the turret. It had obviously been a parlor but now served as an office. A modern laptop sat on a dainty desk before a white marble fireplace. Gauzy drapes covered the tall, slender windows in the curved wall, obscuring but not hiding a view of the cove.
To balance the sinister dude in the library, here he’d have a beautiful Southern belle who could serve as a keeper of secrets to aid players on their quest. He pictured her with raven-black hair styled into sausage curls at the nape. He’d put her in a hoop-skirted lavender gown worn off the shoulder to reveal a tasteful amount of breast.
His mind still churned with ideas as he turned back to the lobby and stopped dead. The exact woman he’d just pictured came rushing down the stairs, the skirts of the gown belling about her.
She looked so real, every hair on his body stood on end.
The woman stopped on the landing and stared at him with riveting blue eyes.
He remained frozen in place as the vision shook off her surprise and continued her flight down the stairs. He braced himself, afraid she’d come straight toward him. Instead, she rounded the newel, dashed toward the wall of paneling under the stairs, and vanished straight through it.