Catwoman: Soulstealer (DC Icons #3)(50)

If only because her smile also held a hint of a sharpness that he’d never noticed before. Her eyes…keen.

That was the only way to describe her eyes. Keen and cunning. She might be an insufferable snob, but he had a feeling she wasn’t as shallow as he’d first thought. That she perhaps pretended to be, to her own advantage.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Luke asked, settling himself behind the glass desk. And finding himself strangely glad for the barrier between them.

She flicked those green eyes over him. “I wanted to see how you were. I heard about your car.”

It was the least of his concerns.

The Porsche had been tracked down, thanks to the tracing system he’d installed. A broken shell of a beautiful beast. He’d gladly handed it over to the GCPD for evidence.

“I’m fine,” he said, waving a hand. And even though this conversation was the last thing he wanted to be having, especially with his suit still needing a few hours of repairs, Luke surveyed Holly again, the way her hands were white-knuckled on the chair. “How are you?” She’d been there two nights ago.

She brushed a hand over her collarbone, as if she could feel the jewelry that she’d no doubt been forced to give away. “Shaken, but fine.”

He knew a good number of people were still saying that, too. His fault—that shakiness, that fear. If he’d been faster…

Luke said softly, “It was just a couple of criminals. They’ll be brought in soon enough.”

A glimmer of something in her eyes. “Those weapons were serious.”

They were.

“Our building has good security,” he said. Some part of him wondered if she’d come here, to him, for some sort of reassurance. “And every gala from now on will have armed guards.” He offered what he hoped was a calm, if grim, smile, unable to suppress that part of him that still sought to reach out, to comfort and protect. The part he’d never been able to turn off. “They’ll be apprehended soon. I promise.”

Apparently, that was all she needed to hear. She nodded, rising to her feet. Luke stood with her.

Holly’s attention drifted to the busy street behind him, a stunning view of the city visible from nearly every angle of his office. “I don’t have any friends in Gotham,” she said at last, her voice softer than he’d ever heard.

He wasn’t surprised. But Luke said politely, “Oh?”

His mother would be so proud.

Holly studied the cityscape for another heartbeat. “I heard that you and your mother are starting a nonprofit to help veterans by teaching them boxing.”

Each tick of the crystal clock on his desk was audible.

She shrugged with one shoulder. “I would like to help out.”

Luke blinked at her. He cleared his throat. “That’s very generous of you.”

“No,” she clarified. “I—I mean…” He’d never heard her stumble before. “I mean, I’ll give you money, of course.” Was that a faint hint of color on her cheeks? “But I’d like to help out. With my time. Volunteer, I mean.”

The offer stunned him. And for the life of him, he couldn’t detect a sign of anything but genuine feeling. The first he’d seen from her. Perhaps this was the person beneath the society-bred armor.

But why now? Why after this robbery? The question must have been on his face, because Holly said, “I heard you helped sneak some people out of the ballroom the other night. Got them to safety.” He didn’t ask how she knew, who’d told her. “I realized…maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”

An extended olive branch. And enough of a glimpse into who might lurk beneath the web of status symbols she used to navigate their world, to defend herself against it, that Luke found himself considering.

He was sure he or his mom could find something for her to do. So he said carefully, “We’re not official yet, still in the planning stages. But I’ll keep you posted.” He added quietly, “Thank you.”

Holly’s brows furrowed for a heartbeat. As if seeing him. Really seeing him. Something about it tugged at his memory, his chest. She shook her head a moment later, sunlight catching in her blond hair. “Of course. I’ll see you later.”

She pivoted on one of her towering stilettos and aimed for the door.

Luke knew it had nothing to do with his mother’s etiquette lessons, nothing to do with the fact that he needed to appear normal and make her think twice before wondering why he sometimes didn’t return home until late, as he took a step around the desk and asked, “Do you wanna come over for some takeout tonight?”

Holly paused on the threshold. Luke realized the woman probably had never eaten takeout in her life, and opened his mouth to suggest an alternative, but she surprised him. “Pizza?”

There was enough hope, enough relief in the question that he smiled. “Seven o’clock. Bring whatever you want to drink.” He only had beer and scotch, and he doubted she was the sort to drink either.

Holly gave him a grin, so unlike any he’d seen from her before. “Thanks. See you then.”

And as he watched her stride out, her steps smooth and unfaltering, Luke wondered if he’d opened a door he might not be able to shut.



* * *



—

She’d needed an alibi for tonight.