The Taking (Seven Deadly Sins #3)(14)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“And for God’s sake, if you start screwing the guy, can you please be discreet about it? If Beau finds out he’ll hurl an adultery charge at you so fast your head will spin.”

“But we’re legally separated.”

“Like that will matter to him?”

True. “I’m not going to have sex with him. I just want to talk to him.”

Jen finally cracked a smile. “Famous last f**king words.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to know?” Felix said, knowing precisely what the girl in front of him had spent twenty minutes working up the nerve to ask.

She was a plain, shy girl in her early twenties, the kind who had been dealt an unfair hand by fate. No amount of makeup could mask the squareness of her jaw, there was no way to alter the closeness of her eyes, and no cream that could fix the stretch marks that had already appeared on the peak of each of her br**sts. This was the kind of young woman who had spent her life being judged as less than attractive, and had clearly retreated into shyness as a result of harsh societal standards of beauty.He would have to coax the question from her.

“No, I guess that’s it,” she said, shaking her head, even after her friend nudged her with her shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Don’t you want to know about your love life?” he asked, smiling at her. “Most people do.”

The sallow yellow shirt that didn’t flatter her ruddy complexion slipped and she tugged it, covering the bulk of her cle**age back up. “Oh, well.” She laughed, a self-conscious, sad sound. “What love life?”

At one point in his life, back when he was young, mortal, greedy, he would have flirted and flattered for the sole purpose of ensuring repeat business. If you gave customers what they wanted, they kept coming back. It was a basic business principle.

Now he did what he did simply because everyone needed some kind of hope. Everyone needed to believe that there was one person out there for him or her, a soul mate.

If they didn’t have hope, they became Felix.

And the world didn’t need another one of him.

“We are talking about six, maybe nine months from now,” Felix said, his smile pleasant, not flirtatious. He never flirted with customers anymore. That was something that had died back in the nineteenth century with Camille, as had the desire for money. For any of the things money could buy.

The girl was trying not to look too interested. “Oh?” she asked.

“That’s when you’re going to England!” her equally unattractive friend said in an excited whisper.

“Exactly,” he said, with a confidence he didn’t feel. But he had learned that confidence could create an illusion that could create a reality. If he bolstered this girl, maybe she would go off to England and take a chance and talk to a man she was interested in, and maybe, just maybe, she would find some kind of happiness.

Or at the very least, get laid. That never hurt either. Felix couldn’t always shake his cynicism, and he figured sex was better than no sex even if it came without a declaration of love and a promise of forever.

“There is a man, outside a castle . . . a tour guide, maybe? He likes your accent.”

The friend giggled. “Do we have accents in Georgia?” she said with a rueful grin.

“You’re wearing a navy shirt when you meet him.” Might as well steer her in the direction of a better color for her complexion.

She frowned. “I don’t have any navy shirts. I like bright colors.”

“Maybe I’m wrong about that,” he said, soothingly, knowing she would be out shopping that very afternoon for navy. “But he shares your interest in horses.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice breathy, expression thoughtful. “That would be . . . nice.”

The two girls sighed and exchanged a look of contentment. Maybe the fantasy would be enough. Or maybe just the idea would spur confidence in her, and that was worth a few words of encouragement from him.

The doorbell tinkled the arrival of another customer and Felix wrapped up the reading. He couldn’t see who had entered the shop, since he did readings behind a screen, but he could care less if someone robbed him of every last voodoo doll and scented candle in the shop. It was meaningless to him.

The girls thanked him with smiles, dropping a five-dollar bill into his tip jar. Not that he could keep it. Most of it went to the master, not to his pocket. But he expressed his thanks anyway, smiling and wishing them a good day as he escorted them around the screen.

They walked toward the door, scooting around the new customer, and he opened his mouth to say hello.

Then he realized who it was and his greeting died on his lips.

Regan Henry Alcroft.

Just who he didn’t need to see.

She was wearing expensive jeans, boots with heels, and a black sweater. Along with a tentative smile.

“Hi. I’m not sure if you remember me, but I was at a function you gave readings at . . . you gave me a reading. I’m—”

He cut her off, not wanting to prolong this, not wanting to feel any compassion or desire for her. “Regan Henry Alcroft. I know who you are.”

She was startled, but then she recovered, dropping her large handbag down onto the floor at her feet. “Actually, it’s Henry. Just Henry.”

“Excuse me?” He didn’t follow her thought, preoccupied with wondering if it was coincidence that she was in black again, or if she preferred black and white clothes.

“I’ve dropped the Alcroft. My divorce will be final in a few weeks, I hope.”

Well, well. Felix’s eyes automatically fell to her ring finger. It was bare. Alcroft hadn’t mentioned a divorce in progress, but then why would he? The master gave no explanations to the servant.

“Do I offer congratulations or sympathy?” he asked, leaning against a display table a few feet away from her.

“Congratulations.” There was a pink stain on her cheeks, and she looked nervous, but pleased with herself. “It’s a good thing and it was my decision.”

“Then congratulations. May Regan Henry be very happy.” Far, far away from him.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“So are you just passing by?” he asked. “In need of a potion to win more in your divorce settlement?” He didn’t think for one minute she had just been strolling down Orleans Street and walked into his shop by accident. She had sought him out, and damn it, that made him uncomfortable. Her being anywhere near him was dangerous, for both of them.