Lucian’s gaze flew to the ceiling. The room was dark and the warm body curled into his was sleeping peacefully.

Footsteps. Damn footsteps.

He knew that’s what he just heard, because he hadn’t fallen asleep. No, he was lying here, watching Julia sleep like some kind of damn creep. He couldn’t help it, though. There was a part of him that couldn’t believe she had come to him, that she’d opened up about her ex-husband and that she hadn’t been scared when he admitted that he’d done things he wasn’t necessarily proud of.

He strained to hear any other sign of the footsteps, but after a few moments, he found himself looking at Julia again. Truth was, if someone was up there doing jumping jacks, he probably wouldn’t pull himself out of this bed.

Lucian had never felt that way before.

Fuck. He really was out of his element here as he reached down, scooping several strands of hair off her cheek, brushing them back from her face.

He was enthralled with the lines of her face. Such interesting angles blended together to form such a perfect shape. He was addicted by all the soft curves, wanting to memorize every inch with his fingers and lips. And he was fascinated with the genuine kindness he saw in her eyes and heard in her words.

In his world, that was a rare thing.

No one was kind or helpful with expecting something in return. Julia was both things and expected nothing.

She’d loved her ex-husband—loved a man who obviously didn’t deserve her, and Lucian wanted—

He stopped those thoughts. What in the hell was thinking? Actually, what was he doing? Because he knew, deep down, he knew that tonight wasn’t about getting off or fucking an obsession out of his system. It was nothing like that.

So what did that mean?

Lucian didn’t know as he trailed his fingers down her bare arm. She wiggled in response, pressing against his side, and he was immediately hard. Just like that. She wasn’t even awake and trying to seduce him, and he was already seduced.

Running his fingers down her side and over her hip, he knew he should let her sleep. Hell, he should probably get some himself, but that’s not what he did.

He eased onto his side, smiling when she shifted onto her stomach, making this little murmuring sound. Brushing her hair aside, he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck and then followed her spine all the way down to the curve of her ass, kissing and licking.

Lucian knew the moment she was awake. Her body stiffened for a second and then relaxed. He rose behind her, planting a knee on either side of her.

She drew one leg up, her hips moving restlessly as he slipped a hand farther down. “Mmm,” she murmured. “What are you up to?”

“Seconds,” he told her. “I want seconds.”

And he got them, with Julia on her belly and her ass up, pressing back against him as he gripped her hips. He took those seconds, and when he was done, his body slick with sweat and hers trembling with the aftershocks of release, he wanted more.

Lucian needed more.

Twisting her hair up into a knot, Julia shoved a thick bobby pin into the strands, securing the mess of hair into place. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Lucian didn’t look over at her as he thumbed through a ring of keys. “Yeah.”

Julia did not believe that for one second. From the moment he showed up while she was working with Madeline and said he wanted to get the stuff out of his mother’s room for his sister, it was like a totally different person manifested in front of her.

He’d gone quiet and remote, and Lucian was never quiet—ever—or remote, especially not last night . . . or this morning, when he woke her once again, this time with his hand between her legs and his mouth on her breasts.

He got seconds.

And then thirds.

So she wasn’t taking the weird vibe he was throwing off personally. She also wasn’t letting herself focus on what had happened between them. Not a single part of her regretted last night, not at all. He’d been pretty up-front last night about who he was. Lucian didn’t need to tell her this was going to be a one-night stand kind of thing. She was able to read between the lines of what he said. They weren’t starting a relationship.

They weren’t starting anything.

But that didn’t mean . . . well, that didn’t mean she didn’t care about Lucian. That she was okay with what he was forcing himself to do.

At first she’d thought it had something to do with Daniel, but even after he left and an entire day later, Lucian was still silent.

She’d fretted over how to handle this as the afternoon progressed and he helped move his sister back to the bed. But it had been Lucian who suggested they get this over with, and so here they were, standing in the wing of the house Julia had never stepped foot in while Livie sat with Madeline.

The left wing looked exactly the same—long halls with numerous, closed doors, and flickering wall sconces, except it was darker. It seemed as if the bright sunlight from outside couldn’t penetrate any of the windows. There was a chill in the air that wasn’t present in the other side of the house. Since Devlin and Gabe stayed on this side, she imagined they preferred to keep it cooler and that was the reason for the temperature differences. The illogical part of her brain was dwelling over the ghost stories Lucian had told her about as she glanced down the dark, narrow hall they’d walked through.

Lucian cursed as he stared down at the keys.

She felt bad for him. Going through his mother’s things had to be painful, no matter how many years had passed. Biting down on her lip, she glanced over her shoulder as she tapped her foot restlessly. Lucian didn’t need to be doing this. She didn’t want him to be doing this. And she knew he probably felt like he had to. That this was his sister he was helping and this was his mother’s room—a room that obviously wasn’t entered often, because it had taken a good thirty minutes for Lucian to find where Livie had the keys stashed.

“Got it.” Lucian shoved the key into the lock. A click echoed like thunder, and with a twist of his wrist, the door inched open. The scent of vanilla wafted out.

Lucian didn’t move as Julia peeked through the foot or so opening. The room was dark, so she saw nothing. Wetting her lips, she placed her hand on his arm. His head swung to hers, and those eyes closed off.

She drew in a short breath, her mind racing to find a way to get him to agree to not do this. “I’m hungry,” she blurted out.

His brows knitted.

Okay. She needed to elaborate on that. “I didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast. Someone made me late this morning. No names mentioned.”

Lucian’s expression softened by a degree.

“So I’m hungry. Do you think you can make me a sandwich?”

He now stared at her like she’d grown a third boob in the center of her forehead. “You’re asking me to make you a sandwich?”

Fixing a smile on her face, she nodded. “A grilled cheese sandwich. I really love them, and I haven’t had one in forever.”

He tilted his head to the side. “A grilled cheese sandwich?”

“Yes. I’m not particular with the type of bread. I like the good old unhealthy stuff—white bread, but if you have wheat or whatever, I’ll take that.” She could feel her cheeks warming, but now she kind of wanted a cheese sandwich, like for real. “Can you make me one?”

Lucian just stared at her.

“I would do it myself, but I don’t want to touch anything in that kitchen. Everything looks like it’s worth more than my life.” She was smiling so widely she feared her face would crack. “But I’m really hungry and you wouldn’t like me if I’m really hungry.”

“And why is that?”

“I get really cranky. Like next level mean,” she told him, which wasn’t a lie. “If you Google hungry, you’d find a picture of me glaring back at you. Plus, I get super dizzy and sick if I don’t eat when I’m hungry.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” That wasn’t exactly true. Neither was her next statement. “I think it’s a low blood sugar kind of thing.”

“You think?” One brow lifted. “Shouldn’t you eat some candy then?”

Crap. “Do you have candy? Because that would be great, too. Candy and a grilled cheese sandwich.”

Lucian dipped his chin and looked away as he lifted a hand, clasping the back of his neck. Silence stretched out between them, and she really thought he was going to tell her no, but then he sighed. “Lock up when you’re done.”

Julia blinked.

“Meet me in the kitchen and I’ll have a grilled cheese sandwich waiting for you.” He held up the keys. “And candy . . . for your blood sugar problems.”

She bit the inside of her cheek as he dropped the keys in her palm. “Will do.”

Lucian started to turn away and stopped. A moment passed, and then he stepped into her. Without saying a word, he cupped her face in his hands and lowered his head.

Her breath hitched.

Kissing her softly, he dragged his thumbs along the curve of her cheeks. This was a different kind of kiss. It wasn’t frenzied like all the others. This . . . this felt like a thank-you.

Then Lucian was walking away.

Julia closed her eyes, exhaling raggedly as she placed her fingers against her lips.

“Goodness,” she whispered, dropping her hand. Time to focus. Mentally giving herself a pat on the back, she pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped instead, blindly feeling the wall until she found the switch. She flipped it on and light flooded the room.

“Oh wow.”

The room looked lived in, like it was still in use. The pretty lavender bedspread was turned down, revealing a mountain of pillows at the head. Cream-colored furniture dotted the room—a chaise and sitting chair, standing oval mirror and two dressers. There was a pair of glasses on the nightstand by the bed. Perfume bottles and pieces of jewelry littered the top of a mirrored bureau. A door to the left was open, revealing a deep closet.

As Julia walked around, she saw that there wasn’t a speck of dust on any of the furniture. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought someone did live in this room.

But the bedroom was a snapshot in time, frozen.

No wonder Lucian had a hard time coming in here. It was like his mother was still alive. There was even a silky blue robe laying on the bed, as if placed there by his mother to be used when she returned. . . .

Julia frowned as she eyed the robe.

Why would someone lay out a robe on a bed if they had no intentions of returning to use it? That seemed really odd.

Then again, she didn’t know if their mother had laid that robe out. Perhaps Livie did. She didn’t know, but something about seeing that robe lingered in the back of her mind as she tossed the keys on the bed and got down to business.

Julia felt weird going through the woman’s stuff, because it seriously felt like at any second someone was going to appear and yell at her. She ignored the tingly feeling along the nape of her neck and carefully rooted through the drawers, searching for signs of the photo albums or journals Daniel mentioned. The pearls had been easy to find. They were nestled in a velvet box on one of the dressers and she found a stash of super long pearls on display inside the closet. She gathered them up, placing them in a large straw basket she’d found next to the dresser.

There were no sign of journals or photo albums, at least no place obvious. That left the stack of boxes in the back of the closet. There were large square ones, like the kind designer purses or hats were shipped in. Several brown Gucci boxes sat one on top another, next to a pile of white ones. Julia went through them, experiencing every level of envy as she uncovered several purses she’d give her left arm for.

Moving the Gucci boxes aside, she almost didn’t see it at first. Julia leaned forward as her gaze landed on the floor of the closet. There was a section of the floor, at least three boards each about a foot long, that seemed oddly pieced together. She ran her fingers over the boards, finding that they were raised about an inch higher than the rest. They didn’t budge when she pried at them with her hands. Was something hidden under the boards or had they just been replaced for some reason? Looking around for something that could be used to pull the boards up, she didn’t see anything she could use except for coat hangers, and she doubted that would work.

Filing that little discovery away, she reached for the next box, a white one. Peeking inside, she found what she was looking for.

“Bingo,” she whispered. Picking up the box, she brought it over to the bed and sat down. She peeled open the lid to get a better look at what was inside.

She had hit the jackpot.

There were three large, black photo albums inside. Why would the photo albums be packed up in a box, though? Julia had no idea. The family was just really weird. Julia placed them in the basket and then reached back into the box, picking up a worn, red leather-bound journal with a leather strap binding the journal closed. She ran her finger down the strap, lifting the small key that dangled from the end. It didn’t go to the journal, so she supposed that it was just some charm.

Julia tugged on the leather binding, but stopped, her finger frozen under the strap. A trail of icy fingers glided over the nape of her neck, spreading a wave of tiny bumps along her skin. Her breath caught as the hairs all over her body rose. Whipping around, she saw nothing but empty space behind her. She scanned the room, half expecting to see the apparition of Lucian’s mother, but of course nothing was there.

Her imagination was really getting out of control. The icy air was probably just that—air kicking on from behind one of the numerous vents.

She glanced down at the thick journal, then tightened the strap. Rising, she placed the journal in the basket and then picked up the box. Eager to get out of the room that felt like a living memorial, she quickly put the box back where she found it. Snatching up the basket, she locked up the room and then hurried down the hall.

Julia never went down three flights of stairs as fast she did in the moment. Unfortunately it took a god-awful amount of time to find her way to the kitchen, taking the wrong hall and ending up in the same damn room more than once. But she knew she was getting close, because her stomach grumbled as she caught the scent of melted cheese and fried bread.

God, she was brilliant.

Got Lucian out of a painful experience and managed to get a grilled cheese sandwich. She deserved that candy, too.

Her steps slowed down when she heard Devlin’s voice coming from the kitchen. Her stomach dipped as she glanced down into the basket she was holding. She had a sinking suspicion he would not be happy knowing Julia had been left alone in his mother’s bedroom.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Devlin asked.

“What does it look like?” came Lucian’s response.

“It actually looks like you’re making a grilled cheese sandwich.”

“Congrats,” Lucian replied dryly. “You’re able to make simple observations and report on them.”

Julia grinned.

“Since when did you start eating like a six-year-old with a cold?”

Her grin started to fade. What the hell? Grown adults ate cheese sandwiches all the time. At least in her world they did.

Lucian’s sigh practically shook the walls. “Is there something you want, Dev?”

“Sort of. Since I didn’t get a chance to ask yesterday, how did the lunch go with our cousin?”

“It was amazing. You know, I thought, wow, we’ve really misjudged cousin Danny-boy this entire time. And then I was like, maybe we should have him over for dinner every—”

“Forget I even asked,” Devlin cut in.

There was a pause and Lucian said, “Do you even care if Maddie showed any improvement? Because the question you should’ve asked was how did our sister respond?”

Oh God.

Julia looked around the hall. Plastered against the wall as she was, she really was afraid to move at this point. She really didn’t want them to know that she was overhearing this.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve had other things on my mind other than the extended vacation our sister has been taking.”

“Extended vacation?” Lucian’s laugh was harsh. “You’re an asshole.”

Julia had to agree.

“So, these other things on your mind? Have anything to do with the police investigating the death of our father?”

Wait. What?

Julia’s grip on the basket tightened.

“Like I said, Chief Lyon isn’t going to pose a problem much longer.” Devlin sounded bored with the entire conversation.

“You have a surprising amount of faith in our lawyers,” Lucian replied.

If Devlin responded, Julia didn’t hear what he said as she stared into her basket. Why were the police investigating their father’s death? It was a suicide, wasn’t it?

Would the police seriously investigate a suicide unless they suspected it was something else entirely? Like, for example, a homicide? Why would—

Devlin walked out of the kitchen, and Julia’s heart about came out of her chest. Those eyes, the same color as Lucian’s but as cool as a winter’s morning, latched on to hers.

“Good afternoon, Julia.”

She swallowed and fixed a bright smile on her face. “Hello, Devlin. How . . . how are you?”

“Good.” His gaze dropped to the basket, but he didn’t look inside. “And you?”

“I’m good.”

Devlin nodded and then walked past her. She twisted at the waist, watching him disappear around the corner. He had to have known she’d overheard them talking. Turning back to the kitchen doors, she got walking.

Lucian was standing at the stove top, a muscle working along his jaw as he turned the gas off. Picking up a slotted turner, he moved the sandwich from a pan to a plate.

“Hey,” she said, walking over to the island. “I . . . I found the stuff we were looking for.”

“That’s great.” He picked up the plate and walked it over to where she stood, still holding the basket. His gaze flicked up to hers. Those eyes weren’t nearly as cold as his brother’s, but they were still closed off. “Thank you for doing that for me.”

“It’s no problem and thank you—”

“I know you really didn’t want this sandwich.” He placed the plate on the island. “I know what you were doing. So, I’m saying thank you and I mean it.”

She opened her mouth, but what could she say? Besides, she really didn’t want to talk about this or what she found in his mother’s room. She had questions. Many.

Julia didn’t get a chance to ask a single one.

He pivoted around and left the kitchen without saying another word, leaving her there with the basket of his mother’s items. Her gaze fell to the plate, appetite completely gone, and that was a shame, because it looked amazing.

She glanced down at her basket and then she shivered, and it had nothing to do with the sudden coldness in the room and everything to do with the brothers.