Despite the doubt and trepidation coursing through him, Lucien laughed. “No, I promise you, I am not Batman.”
“No, of course not,” she said, taking another look around. “He could never afford all this.” She gaped at the vehicles, open-mouthed and shaking her head.
Impressing her pleased Lucien, for reasons he couldn’t name. Perhaps it pleased him so because, outside of Hattie, impressing anyone wasn’t something he’d accomplished in many, many years. Imari was a genie, after all, accustomed to great wealth and extravagant riches, and yet she found his collection interesting. That was quite a feat.
He also enjoyed the wonderment in her gaze. It was almost childlike. He was astonished that she could express that kind of emotion considering all she must have seen in her life. Even more astonished that he was the cause of such a response.
But it troubled him, too. Not her wonderment, but how much he liked pleasing her. How much he liked evoking emotion in her. How easily he could see himself becoming addicted to the pleasure he was feeling in this moment.
Becoming addicted to her.
That couldn’t lead to good things. Not for him, anyway. Or her, for that matter.
Everything in him tightened up, extinguishing the small joy he’d just experienced. An emotion like joy might be fine for her, but it was foolishness for him. He knew better than to let himself forget how untenable his life was. Doing so would only cause them both great pain later on.
He got out of the car and walked around to open her door. “We should go in.”
She looked up at him, bag clutched against her. “Okay.”
He stepped back to give her room as she swung her legs around, but the effort of getting out of the low Bugatti while holding on to her bag caused her to fall back into her seat on the first attempt.
He held out his hand. “Give me the bag.”
She hesitated, and he remembered she’d put the bottle in there.
The muscles in his jaw tensed. “Give me your hand, then.”
She took that offer, placing her fingers lightly into his gloved ones.
Color exploded back into his world, and he gasped at the sight of his beloved cars awash in all the brilliance of the rainbow. Slowly, he looked from one end of the garage to the other. Radiant sunny yellows, vivid marine blues, and fiery reds filled his vision.
Mixed in were gleaming silvers; a single emerald green; blacks so dark they seemed to absorb the light; a couple snowy, pristine whites; one garish, gorgeous citrus orange; and a royal purple that he had no recollection of agreeing to.
“You okay?”
He remembered himself and pulled his gaze back to her. “Yes.” He helped her up, then let go of her hand, lingering for a second longer than he should have. The garage and everything in it returned to its normal shades of black and grays.
He stared at the ground. It was easier than looking at the cars and thinking about what he could no longer see. And it was far easier than looking at her and knowing what he could never have.
“You’re not okay.” She was right in front of him. Too close. The tips of her embroidered silk slippers were almost touching his Italian leather loafers. He could smell her perfume. Or her shampoo. Or whatever it was that caused her to smell like some exotic pastry and make his mouth water. “What just happened?”
“Nothing.” He reached around her, closed the car door, then walked toward the entrance to his home.
Her footsteps echoed through the vast space as she hurried to catch up. Thankfully, she let the matter rest.
He reached the door ahead of her, opening it for her to go in first. She did, and he followed into the mudroom. It wasn’t an impressive entrance. Spacious, but nothing special. He wasn’t sure anyone besides him and Hattie had ever used it. Greyson always came in through the club entrance. “I’ll show you to a guest room.”
“If you don’t have visitors, why do you have a guest room?”
That was a good question. The answer was Hattie, but he didn’t want to explain all that to Imari. “My housemate prefers it that way.”
Imari’s expression said myriad things, but mainly that she had many questions. None of which he planned on answering. He was opening his home to her, not his life.
A voice rang out. “Lucy? Is that you?”
Imari’s brows shot up, and her eyes filled with new questions, but she said nothing.
He closed his eyes and growled. That wasn’t a nickname he’d wanted Imari to hear. “Hattie, we have a guest.”
“Greyson?” She materialized in ghost form at the entrance to the mudroom.
“No.” He gestured toward Imari. “This is—”
“Imari Zephara!” Hattie instantly became corporeal and clapped her hands. “What a nice surprise!” She sent a cross look Lucien’s way. “Why didn’t you tell me we were having company? I should have straightened up the house.”
“The house is never un-straightened, Hattie.”
“I could have made cookies.”
“Didn’t you do that this afternoon?”
She thought for a moment. “No, I made apple tartlets. Completely different.”
“Are they?” Sweets were sweets.
“Yes. And you should have told me Imari was coming, regardless of what I baked.”
Imari laughed softly.
Hattie threw her hands up. “I’m so sorry, we’re going on like you’re not even there. Come in, dear. I’m Hattie Dupree.”
“Nice to meet you, Hattie. How do you know my name? Have we met?” Imari asked.
“We haven’t met, but I have my hair done at the spa where you work. Shelley does it. You know, the little wood nymph with the cotton candy pink hair? She’s so good.” Hattie hooked her arm through Imari’s. “Would you like a cup of tea? We have some excellent varieties.”
“I bet you do.” Imari glanced knowingly at Lucien before answering. “I’d love some.”
Hattie and Imari headed down the hall toward the rest of the house, leaving Lucien behind.
He stared after them for a second, then shook his head and followed. “Hattie, perhaps our visitor might like to see her room first? Maybe put her bag away?”
Hattie sucked in a loud breath as she came to a stop in the living room. “Of course! I’m so sorry, Imari. We haven’t had a guest in so long, I’ve completely forgotten how to behave. Come. I’ll show you your room, and then we’ll have tea.”
“I’ll show her the room.” He flicked his gaze at his grandmother, hoping she understood he needed a moment with Imari. “That way you can start the kettle.”
“Very good.” She winked at Lucien, which Imari undoubtedly saw. “I’ll be in the kitchen. But we should have tea here in the living room, don’t you think?”
“Whatever you wish, Mémé.” He almost cringed as the word left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to call Hattie that in front of Imari.
But Imari didn’t seem to notice. She smiled at him. “I would like to put my bag away, but the kitchen would be fine for tea. I’m not fancy.”
Hattie smiled. “The kitchen it is, then. See you in a bit.”
As his grandmother left, Lucien gestured toward the other side of the house. “This way.”
Imari followed as he took them through the living room and to the right. He glanced at her. She was grinning wildly. “Does something about my home amuse you?”
“Not at all. And your home is beautiful. A little weird, being underground, but I like the way you’ve used the light panels to keep it from being dark. So yes, beautiful in its own way.”
“Thank you. I think.” He cleared his throat. “What’s so amusing, then?”
“Your housemate.”
“I apologize if Hattie came on too strong. I guess she’s a bit starved for company.”
“No, she was fine. It’s just…” Her smile broadened, and she laughed. “I never would have guessed the angel of death lives with his grandmother.”
He frowned. So she understood French. Or was just smart enough to know that the term of endearment he’d used meant grandmother. He sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m sure.”
“And she lives with me.”
“Of course.”
He stopped and opened one of the double doors that led into the guest suite. “Your room.”
She didn’t go in. “Listen, I think it’s sweet that she lives with you. I’m not judging you. At all. I’d love to have my family around me.” Her expression grew wistful. “Life for a jinn doesn’t always work that way.” She made a funny little noise, then stepped into the guest room. “This is lovely. And so big!”
“Hattie designed it.” What colors she’d used, he couldn’t recall. “I know it has its own bathroom.”
“It’s perfect.” She set her bag on the bed and unzipped it. She took the bottle out and put it on the nightstand. “I don’t think I’ve said a proper thank you for opening your home to me like this. I know it was a hard thing for you to do, and I want to be sure you know I’m very appreciative.”
He stared at her. He wasn’t used to conversations like this. “You’re welcome.” A few moments of awkward silence passed. “I’ll leave you alone to get settled.”
“There’s really nothing for me to do.” She walked toward him, narrowing the distance between them. She was peering at him intently. “Do I make you nervous?”
He swallowed. “No. Not exactly.” She was too close again.
“What, then?”
“I’m just not used to company.”
She nodded, but her expression held a vast amount of skepticism. “Then why would you invite me to your home?”
He wanted to back up. “You needed help.”
“And you were willing to put yourself out for me? When you don’t really know me?”
“Greyson…I owed him.”
She shook her head slowly. “You don’t seem like the kind of man who cares about owing people.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. Mostly because she was befuddling him with her nearness and her scent and her impossible beauty. Genies must have the kind of pheromones that made men stupid. That was the only explanation he could think of.
She shrugged. “Whatever your reason, I’m glad you did.”
Then she leaned up and kissed him. On the mouth. It was soft and sweet and the most unexpected thing she could have done.
He should have told her not to touch him. Instead, instinct took over, and he closed his eyes.
That didn’t stop him from seeing color. It exploded in the darkness behind his lids, his own personal fireworks show. A million colors dancing and pulsing with the pressure of her mouth.
Then the kiss was over and the colors were gone. Far too soon. For both.
She turned toward the door. “We should go, or your grandmother’s going to think we got lost.”
“Uh-huh.” Lucien’s mouth was open, and he was unable to close it. A deep tingling filled his whole body, leaving him numb in some places and utterly, electrically alive in others.
Maybe he was dying. Maybe this was what death felt like for a broken grim reaper.
Or maybe, just maybe, he was getting a second chance at life.