The Taking (Seven Deadly Sins #3)(33)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“You have two choices. Wait until you’re emotionally ready to have another relationship and find a guy you want to have that relationship with. Or you can go for it and shag the hot voodoo dude and hope there’s no fallout.” Chris raised his wineglass. “I think you can take a wild guess which one I would do.”

“Oh, I have no doubt which one you would choose.” They were dining al fresco at a restaurant on Royal Street a block from her house, and Regan glanced over at the fountain burbling water over rough, aged stones. “And for me, well, for the first time in my life I’m tired of playing it safe. It’s like leaving Beau gave me the courage to rock the boat in more ways than one.” She smiled at Chris. “If I was given a do-over, I think I would go for it.”

“You still can. Text him. Call him.”

But she shook her head. “It’s too late for that. I ticked him off. I’m not even sure he’ll show at the party.”

“He’d better. He made a commitment. Just call him.”

Suddenly Regan laughed. What the hell was she worried about? People’s opinions? Felix’s opinion? If she wanted something, she should just take it and they could all go screw themselves. “Maybe I will. Why not, right?”

Only Chris didn’t respond.

She looked at him. “What? I thought you would approve.”

“Normally, yes. But for a second there, Regan, I swear to God, you didn’t look like yourself. It was like your face kind of changed or something. That was freaky shit.”

“Drink more wine,” she told him lightly, dismissing what he was saying, even as a nervous tremor ran up her arms.

For just a second, she had actually felt unlike herself, full of defiance and anger and selfishness.

None of those were normal to her, yet she had felt them.

Like the dreams.

Only now she was awake.

Felix hated being summoned. Hated that when he had accepted the false promise of security, he had given up his independence, the ability to ever be his own man.

A young, pretty secretary showed him into Alcroft’s office, flipping her hair and smiling coyly at Felix the whole time. He barely spared her a glance. Too young. Too obvious. Too not Regan.“Leblanc, how are you?” Alcroft asked, rising from behind his desk and adjusting his tie.

“Fine.” He didn’t bother to inquire about Alcroft. He didn’t give a shit how he was doing. “I’m here. What do you want?”

“You know, you’d think with all the money you have, you could wear clothes that didn’t look like a garage sale leftover from the Seattle grunge days of the nineties.” Alcroft moved around his desk and leaned against it, displaying his designer suit and Italian shoes.

Felix was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, what he always wore, and it was who he was. At least who he was now. There had been a time when he had reveled in the sharp clothes money was able to buy, the elegant watches, shiny shoes, ebony walking sticks. But they had come with a price, and in the end, Felix had shed his materialism.

Ironic that while he had outgrown the trappings of greed, he was owned by the biggest purveyor of that particular sin—the demon of greed.

“Did you ask me here to discuss my fashion sense?”

Alcroft gave him a smile, and it wasn’t a pleasant one. Felix steeled himself, forcing himself to maintain a relaxed stance, his hands loosely in his front pockets.

“No. I asked you here because I want to know why the hell you are doing your little voodoo bullshit at my wife’s fund-raising party.”

Now Felix did relax. “Because her party planner called me and invited me to do it.”

“And that’s all?”

“Sure. It’s no different from the law firm party. Just another way to make a quick buck.”

“And it’s just a coincidence that she is my wife?”

Alcroft didn’t seem to know that Felix had seen Regan personally, and he wanted to keep it that way. “Actually, no, not a coincidence. I thought maybe you had something to do with it. That you wanted me there.”

The demon laughed. “I suppose I could see that. But no, I had nothing to do with it. I don’t want you around my wife. You can do her damn party, but you’re not to have any contact with her, do you understand?”

“Why?” he asked, knowing it would piss Alcroft off, but not caring. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

“Nothing. You can’t do anything. But Regan is a weak woman, and we all know how easily they fall for your Creole charm.”

“I don’t have any charm left, Alcroft. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.” Hell, Regan had thrown him out of her house, after all. She hadn’t seemed to think he was the least bit charming two nights ago. It wasn’t smart to rile the demon in his cage, but Felix couldn’t resist. “Though I did notice she has dropped your last name. Trouble in paradise?”

Alcroft’s eyes narrowed. “You could say that. Regan left me, ironically enough the night of the law firm party when she had a reading with you. Could there have been anything you might have said to her that encouraged her abandoning a very happy marriage?”

“She left that night? Right before Christmas?” Felix gave Alcroft false sympathy. “I’m sorry, that must have been very difficult and embarrassing for you.”

“Watch it,” Alcroft said, in a soft voice. “You forget who you’re speaking to.”

“Oh, I know exactly who I’m speaking to. I never, ever forget.” Felix forced a casual shrug. “I didn’t say anything to her about you, other than to tell her the necklace she was wearing was pretty. We talked mostly about her sister.”

Alcroft rolled his eyes. “Of course you did. She blathers on about that stupid dead kid every chance she gets. But she must have had a reason for leaving me.”

Disgust rippled through Felix. “Maybe it’s because you have a block of ice for a heart and you refer to the sister she loves as that stupid dead kid.”

But Alcroft just laughed. “Like I ever said that to her. No, I was a damn good husband. She is my tenth wife, after all. I’ve gotten good at satisfying a woman’s material and physical needs.”

No mention of emotional needs, of course.

“And she’s the first wife who has ever left me. There has to be a reason, and you’d better hope it has nothing to do with you.”

“Maybe she just isn’t as weak and pliable as you thought she was.” Regan was that paradox, appearing so even and passive, yet Felix knew there was an iron core to her.