Breaking Out (14 page)

She paused at the door when she saw the candles flickering from the sconces on the walls. “You're trying to throw off my game by distracting me with ambiance, aren't you? I've gotten too good for you. I knew I would.” She buffed her nails on her shoulder. “Prepared to be defeated.”

He chuckled and pulled out the heavy, ornate chessboard. Evelyn settled onto the floor across from him as he lifted the lid off the velvet-lined box and carefully removed each ivory piece. She was always white.

“Do you remember our first game?” he asked.

How could she forget? Heat crawled up her throat as she sipped the glass of wine Lucian had poured her.

“Yes.” As the crystal rim pressed to her lips she hid a smile. “You may have captured my king, but if I remember correctly, I still walked away with my panties intact.”

His hand froze over the ivory bishop he was placing beside her queen, and he chuckled. “You looked at me with those big doe eyes. What was I supposed to do?”

“Exactly what you did, be a gentleman and let me walk away with at least a shred of dignity.”

“That shred was a thong. My thoughts were anything but gentlemanly,” he mumbled as he lifted the lid off the box of onyx pieces. “Do you remember what I said to you that night?”

“That the king can do whatever he wants?” She smiled cheekily and he smirked.

They really were comfortable with each other. She never had to worry about what she said or fear he would laugh at her for being so uninformed about normal everyday things.

Evelyn knew things most people never needed or wanted to know, like how to tell if meat was rancid, or which storm drains flood and which could be used to block the wind on below-freezing nights. Yet she was clueless about things that were common knowledge, like the fact that the news was on television every day at five, or that every single person in the world now basically had a computer, or whatever the hell a Tickle Me Elmo was. But no matter what, Lucian never held her ignorance against her or made her feel less than anyone else.

He placed the onyx queen on the board beside his king. “And what about this old girl?”

“Oh, well she's got all the power, of course.”

“She must protect her king, and never stray too far, Evelyn. That's key.”

“I do believe I've kicked your ass before when she abandoned the king and ransacked your front line, Lucian.”

“You won that time because your foot was on my cock and I wanted your mouth there. You said I couldn't touch you until the game was over.”

“Excuses. Excuses.” She rolled her eyes.

“You've only beaten me three times. Each victory I was under extreme duress!”

She laughed. “Oh, is that it then? You really are a sore loser, Mr. Patras. I believe it was you who told me chess is a lyrical exchange of aggression and surrender. You must learn to surrender a bit more gracefully, sir.”

His laughter bubbled up and faded into silence as their gazes met.

“What?” she asked, unsure what to make of the serious expression on his face.

“You remembered my words.”

“I love your words. You have a great vocabulary and way of putting things.”

“Why such an obsession with language, Evelyn?”

She shrugged. “If I could use big words and sound intelligent, people wouldn't think I was stupid or know I was illiterate.”

“You were never stupid and you're learning to read and write better every day.”

“I know,” she said quietly and cleared her throat. Her gaze fastened to the board, now set and ready for a match.

“Who is the king's greatest asset?” he whispered.

Her eyes went to the queen. She loved this board. The pieces were so ornate and beautifully hand-carved with little faces. She even loved the opalescent gleam swirling over the checkered surface of the board. She'd come to think of the board as half hers.

“The queen,” she whispered softly, admiring the priceless carvings.

A shadow passed over the board and Lucian placed something in the center. “Be my queen, Evelyn.”

She sucked in a breath as a sickening dread rushed through her. Her eyes jerked to the tiny satin box, and then to his face. His expression was an unreadable mask, but his eyes showed a myriad of emotions, hope, fear, anxiousness, love.

“Wh-what?”

“I love you. I don't want you to stray too far. I want you to be the solace I come home to each night. Protect me. Let me be your shelter and protect you, always. Be my queen and let me take care of you. Marry me.”

Her mouth was producing too much saliva yet her throat was too dry to swallow. Tension settled onto her shoulders like a heavy weight, and she found it suddenly difficult to breathe. He leaned forward and opened the box.

She gasped. It was her missing sea glass, the piece she loved, smoothed into two perfect pearls nestled around a humongous diamond. It was in the traditional kite shape she knew there was a name for, but at the moment words were beyond her grasp.

He lifted it out of the box and his fingers slightly trembled. Lucian Patras didn't tremble. He was an oak.

“If you don't like it, we can pick another. It's my mother's stone. Do you recognize the pearls?”

They were stunning, perfect spheres swirled with plum, jade, and cerulean blue. She tried to speak, but no words came out. Forcing her dry throat to open, she cleared it, and rasped, “My favorite piece.”

“Because beauty can be found anywhere, Evelyn. It doesn't matter where it comes from. I think those glass pieces are more beautiful than the six-carat diamond. Let me put it on you.”

Without thinking, her hands jerked out of reach.

“Evelyn?” He frowned at her.

“I . . . I need to go to the bathroom.” She scrambled off the floor and fled the library before he could stop her. Passing the powder room near the den, she ran up the steps and directly to the rarely used hall bathroom. Her unsteady fingers quickly locked the door. Pressing her back against the heavy wood, she breathed and massaged her temples.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,
shit
!” she hissed.

This was horrible. This was a nightmare. She couldn't marry him! Then when he decided to leave, which she knew he eventually would, things would be so much more horrendously messy. Why was he doing this to them?

And he would make her sign a pre-nup and people would find out where she was from and call her horrible names like gold-digging whore. She couldn't breathe. She needed air.

Rushing to the window, she pulled back the curtains and broke a nail trying to open the window.
Stupid lock!
Once it was unlocked it went up a lot easier. She sucked in gulps of air, but that still wasn't helping.

She went to the sink and turned the cold knob. Cool water rushed over her wrists. She splashed her face and returned to the window. The night air chilled her damp skin and some semblance of calm set in.

She had no idea how long she was in there. Her face was chilled to the bone when she left and all of her nails were bitten down to the quick. The scent of extinguished candles swept through the hall as she approached the den and the lamps were now turned on.

Lucian looked up as she stood in the doorway. His arm draped over the couch and an empty glass dangled from his hand. His gaze fell on her and he frowned.

Neither of them said a word. She opened her mouth, but what could she say? She looked around the room for the box holding the ring, but couldn't find it.

She'd never known such awkwardness. It seemed to take shape all around them, jostling their tense bodies, cementing their feet firmly in place. Paralysis took over and she was pretty sure that someone could set her clothes on fire in that moment and she would find it difficult to move.

Finally, he broke the silence. “You know, I played this moment through my mind, came up with a hundred different ways you could've reacted. I gotta say that wasn't one of them.”

“You took me by surprise,” she mumbled.

“Well, now that you know what's coming, do you think we can discuss it?”

“Lucian, I . . .”

“Evelyn, this isn't something I've ever done or ever considered doing before. At least do me the courtesy of telling me what's going through your mind. I mean, I have no idea what to make of this. Did you just need to find your bearings? Are you flat-out rejecting me? Is it the glass? The way I asked? Were you just caught off guard? I want nothing more than to slip this ring onto your finger and make love to you as my fiancée, but you feel a million miles away. Talk to me.”

In truth, she was only a few feet from him. She fought the urge to turn and run away again. Jamming her stubby thumbnail into her palm, she forced herself to step into the room.

She awkwardly sat on the edge of the couch, her body poised for fight or flight. “God, you don't even want to sit with me. What the hell's going on?” he asked.

Run.
“I . . .”

“Do
not
even say you need to use the bathroom again.”

“Sorry, you just took me off guard.”

“So you've said. That
is
the traditional way to propose, I'm told.”

Propose.
She never once imagined herself married. The scenario simply didn't work in her head. Where some girls played with dolls and dreamed of white dresses, she played with branches that looked like people and dreamed of warm clothing. She had never been more unprepared for a moment in her entire life.

“Lucian,” her voice was barely a whisper. They were only supposed to play chess. “You don't want to marry me.”

“Don't tell me what I want, Evelyn. I don't make hasty decisions.”

“Okay, maybe you want to get married, but why would you want to marry me?”

He looked at her as if she admitted to something as heinous as boiling puppies for fun. “Why wouldn't I? You're smart, fun, beautiful, you make me happy. Evelyn, I love you. Don't you get it?”

She shook her head, dumbfounded. “No, I don't.”

His frustrated expression crumbled to a look of insecurity that was so unfitting on Lucian's face. He frowned, his lips thin as he worked out his words. “Evelyn, do you . . . do you love me?”

She shut her eyes. Pain knifed through her as if something unbearable sat on her chest. She couldn't say it. Once someone had another person's love, they took advantage of it, took it for granted, killed it. It was giving someone ultimate power. “I care for you—”

“Don't give me that bullshit! It's a simple question. Do. You. Love. Me? Yes or no?”

“I . . . I don't say that.”

“Well, do you feel it? I love you. Give me something here. We've been together for months. I tell you almost every day. I see the way you look at me. What we do, it isn't always fucking. I've felt you make love to me. Why can't you just admit it?”

“Because I've only ever said that to one person and she's done nothing but hurt me my entire life!” Startled by the anger in her voice, she covered her mouth. He was cornering her emotionally and she didn't like it. He seemed undeterred.

“I'm not your mother. I would never use you the way she does.”

“You don't know that. You've known me for less than half a year, Lucian. Marriage is supposed to be forever. I'm too much of a cynic to believe in such things, and you're too much of a realist to consider a man like you marrying a girl like me feasible.”

“Stop referring to yourself as some sort of anomaly. You're just as good as everyone else. Fuck the past,” he hissed and took her hands in his. “I love you,” he whispered. “I know you love me too, whether you admit it or not.”

“I'm sorry.”

His expression slowly darkened and his eyes narrowed. “Marry me, Evelyn.”

Was she talking to a wall? “Lucian, I can't.”

“Yes, you can. It's a simple yes. You agree to be my wife and we get married. It doesn't have to be tomorrow or even this year, just say yes and when it's time we'll say vows. I won't rush you. I promise. I just need to hear you say you'll be my wife.”

She'd never seen this desperate side of him before. It threw her. He was being irrational. “That isn't how it's supposed to be, Lucian. Listen to yourself. You are asking me to promise my life to you.”

“Fuck how it's supposed to be! And I know what I'm doing!”

She jerked back. “What's wrong with you?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing on end. “Nothing. Everything. Fuck!”

She flinched. “Maybe we should go to bed.”

“No!” He grabbed hold of her wrist, startling her. Next thing she knew he was on his knees. “Evelyn Keats, I love you. I promise to always be faithful to you, take care of you, honor you with every bit of my being far past my last breath, so long as you agree to be my wife. Will you marry me?”

She didn't know if she should cry or be scared. Was he having some sort of episode? “Lucian, you're starting to freak me out.”

He reached in his pocket and withdrew the box. His hands shook as he removed the ring, letting the box fall to the floor. He gripped her fingers and moved to slide it on her finger. “Just let me put it on your finger. It's only a ring—”

She jerked her hand away and stood. “No! What's gotten into you? Lucian, you're moving way too fast and you aren't listening to a word I say.”

She stepped around him and stormed to the door.

“
Evelyn, wait!
Please, don't leave. I just . . . I . . . would you please just wear the ring? For one month, that's it. Then you can throw it away for all I care. We won't call it an engagement ring. It'll be just another piece of jewelry you wear. One month.”

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Unable to listen to any more, she turned.

“Goddamn it, Evelyn, I can't let you say no! I know you don't understand, but I need you to wear this ring. I'm fucking begging you.”