C. Omololu - Intuition

I take a step back. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“I made them to complete the set,” he says, holding it out toward me. He glances at the pendant. “They’re meant to go together. Always were.” He puts the box in my hand and folds my fingers around it in a familiar gesture. I’m too stunned to object when he whispers, “With these jewels you shall have means to get away. Keep them hidden, whatever you do.”

I gasp as I recognize the words Connor said to me just before he was led away. We were alone in the room that day—there’s no way anyone else could have known. I can’t look at Drew because I’m afraid of what I might see in his face. Of what I might see behind his eyes.

I hesitate, then turn the small box and lift the lid. Inside, nestled in a velvet liner, are delicate silver earrings, each with a bright red ruby in the center. I put one hand reflexively on my pendant as the room seems to recede around me.

“This!” the old man roars, yanking the pendant from around my neck. As much as I try to stand my ground, I flinch, and my skin burns as the chain is pulled free. “This is what you had made with the Raimondi Ruby?”

Connor steps forward to form a shield between me and his father. “It is mine to do with as I please. And I chose to give it to the woman I love. Return her property at once.” His words are civil, but his tone is strong. The only hint of his anger is a slight trembling in his arm.

As an answer, his father spits in Connor’s outstretched hand. “The woman you love,” he says in mocking tones. “The whore. She is not fit to be anything but a concubine. Her low birth, her questionable parentage, her social graces—none of these things serve to recommend her to my society.” The sensation is physical as he scans me with his greedy eyes. “Although I can see how you might succumb to some of her most obvious charms.” The leer on his face is sickening as he runs one wrinkled finger across my cheek, flicking one of the ruby earrings that Connor has just given me.

In seconds the old man is flying through the air as Connor rushes at him. “Never lay a hand on my beloved again!” he screams, standing over the crumpled form. Despite my revulsion, I’m grateful that Connor has no weapon, because I have no doubt that he would use it at this moment. Instead, he pulls my pendant free from his father’s grasp. “Never touch her!”

Connor calmly walks back to me, folding the pendant into my palm and putting a protective hand on my arm as we turn to face his father. “I should go,” I whisper, the first words I’ve spoken since we were discovered alone in the garden house.

“You should listen to her, for she is finally speaking some sense,” his father says, pulling himself up to a standing position and straightening his tunic. I know that he won’t easily forgive the physical display, but I can see that Connor’s strength has made him wary. “She should go, and stop playing the lady.” He stands at his full height as he regards us, dabbing at the small cut on his lip with his sleeve. “For she will never be mistress of this estate as long as I have the breath to forbid it.”

Connor’s eyes are steady on his father as he speaks. “Then prepare to lose another son, for I would rather live the rest of my life as a pauper with my beloved than endure one more day of privilege without her. She is my wife, with or without your blessing.”

I put my hand on Connor’s chest to stop him from speaking, overwhelmed by all of the trouble I have caused. “Stop. You don’t mean that.” I look up into his green eyes, but then look away, unable to say what I must. I push past him and rush out the door, the heavy wood and iron slamming behind me. I’ve barely made it twenty paces when I feel a pull on my arm.

“Don’t,” Connor says, putting a finger to my lips as I start to speak. “Just listen. For one moment, just listen to what I have to say.” His eyes soften as he brushes a strand of hair from my shoulder. “I meant every word. I can live without the estate and the title, the trinkets and the travel to foreign lands. I can live without my family. But I cannot live another day without you.”

Connor pries my fingers open and lets the pendant dangle from its chain, kissing the ruby before tenderly fastening the clasp around my neck once again. “You are my family. The only family that I’ll ever need. Whatever happens, we are meant to be together. Forever.”

Forever. The word echoes in my ears as the memory fades and the black velvet box comes into focus. My heart is still pounding as I think of the fight, of the look in Connor’s eyes as he spoke, of the truth that I now remember in them.

“I had the earrings made for you,” Drew says softly. “Before . . .” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but we both know. Before Connor was killed. “But they were lost to time.”

I look at how the silver shines. These earrings aren’t like the pendant—they lack the same weight and age. “So you made these?”

Drew nods sadly. “I did. I only wish they were the originals.”

“They’re beautiful.” I have to say it, because it’s true.

Drew leans in, but before he can say anything else, I feel a heavy sense of foreboding. I look up through the window in the practice-room door and see Griffon standing in the hallway staring at the two of us.

“Damn.” I pull myself away from Drew, and yank the door open. Griffon doesn’t move, just looks at me with a question in his eyes.

“Hey,” I say, trying to play this off like it’s nothing. “I was waiting for you.”

Griffon nods toward the practice room. “Who’s that?” No way is he going to let this go.

I gesture vaguely in that direction. I feel like I’m walking on the edge of a very sharp knife. One wrong move and it’s going to be bad. “Nobody. Just someone that Kat used to work with.” I grab his hand and try to lead him to the door, but he won’t budge.

“If he’s nobody, then what’s that in your hand?”

I look down and see that I’m still holding the little black box. I don’t dare look behind me to see if Drew is still standing there. “Uh, some earrings. He’s a jewelry designer and he was showing them to me.”

Griffon folds his arms across his chest and looks right into my eyes. “I thought you agreed to tell me the truth from now on. No more hiding things. I’m going to ask one more time. Who is that?”

My breath gets shallow and I feel my heart racing. There’s no going back now—I have to tell him the truth. “His name is Drew.”

Griffon waits without speaking, calm on the outside, but even from here I can feel how upset he is.

I force myself to look in his eyes so that he can see I’m not lying about the rest of it. “Before . . . a long time before . . . his name was Connor. Connor Wyatt.”

He seems to lose all color in his face as the name sinks in. After that lifetime he must have done research on Lady Allison, because he knows exactly who Connor was. “Lord Connor Wyatt?” He glances back over my shoulder. “Are you sure?”

I press my lips together hard; the uncertainty of his reaction is killing me. I can only nod.

“I’m out of here,” Griffon says suddenly, turning and walking quickly down the hallway.

I catch him as he reaches the outside door. “Griffon, stop, please! Let me explain!”

One hand on the door, he straightens his back and turns toward me. The look on his face is devastating. His eyes are hard, as if he’s made a crucial decision in the few moments since he heard the truth. “There’s nothing to explain. I get it. You have unfinished business with . . . with him. I can’t compete with that.”

“Come on, you’re being ridiculous.” I feel suddenly hot all over, like I’m going to be sick. “There’s nothing between me and Drew. You’ve got to believe that.” I reach for his arm to lead him outside, but Griffon shakes me off. “Please,” I say. “Let’s go outside and talk about this.”

Griffon looks at the ground. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“It’s not like that.” I feel desperation rising as I open the door. “Please. Just come outside.”

Griffon grunts, but follows me. The sound of cars whizzing by on the busy street calms me just the slightest bit. “Drew’s engaged to Kat’s boss.” I take a deep breath and start again, knowing this isn’t coming out the way I want it. My voice drops to a whisper. “He . . . he was explaining some things that I’m starting to remember.”

Something shifts in Griffon’s eyes, and I feel a jolt of hope running through me. He wants to believe me. He reaches over and lightly runs his finger over my ankh. “He gave you that, didn’t he?”

I force myself to answer. “Yes. And he just wanted to give me the earrings that go with it.”

I can barely hear him as he whispers, “What else does he want from you?”

“Nothing! It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be with him, no matter what our relationship was before. I want to be with you. I love you.”

Griffon blinks slowly and his nostrils flare as he considers my words. “I’m not ready to do this again, Cole.”

“What do you mean again?” My words rush out as I try to keep him here. I can feel him pulling away, retreating from me. “There hasn’t been anyone else.”

“I don’t mean with you.” His tone is dismissive, and I feel everything deflate. “I’ve done this before, and I swore I’d never do it again. If . . .” He pauses and glances at me just for a second. “If you have a history with him, something you have to finish in this lifetime, I can’t stand in the way of that. I won’t stand in the way of that. Not this time.”

In a rush I realize that so much of what he’s reacting to has nothing to do with me or our relationship in this lifetime. It’s all about the pain he’s carried through many lifetimes. “What happened in your past has nothing to do with us,” I say. I can hear the pleading in my voice, but I can’t do anything about it. “This is about you and me. Here and now.”

Griffon waves my words away, but the look of pain on his face is unmistakable. “This isn’t about my past. It’s about yours. I can’t—I won’t compete with a ghost.”

“How can I make you understand that I’m not interested in Drew?” It feels like there are miles between us, like he’s someone I don’t even know.

The door to the studio opens and Drew walks out. His eyes flick to Griffon, but then settle on me. “Everything okay?”

“Just go away!” I shout. I thrust the earrings back into his hands. “You’ve done enough.”

Time seems suspended as Griffon looks from me to Drew and back again, his hands clenched into tight fists as he slowly takes a step back. His face is a mask, and I’m so far away I can’t read any emotions. After what seems like an eternity, he turns to me. “I’m going to do you a favor and walk away.”

I grab for his hand as he turns to walk down the sidewalk, but he’s already out of reach.

“You can’t go!” I shout, but I’m already talking to his back. “Not now. Please!”

“Think of it this way,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m making your decision a hell of a lot easier.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kat asks, looking over her shoulder for traffic.

“I have to. He won’t answer my calls, and I have to talk to him. He just needs some time to realize that he made a mistake. That’s all.” Just turning down Griffon’s street makes my stomach churn. I check my phone one more time on the off chance he’s answered one of the texts I’ve sent since yesterday, but the only thing on the screen is the picture of Rayne and me that’s been my screensaver for months. I stare at the houses going by, steeling myself for the first glimpse of his.

Rayne leans forward from the backseat. “Peter’s been no help at all. He says this is between the two of you.” She squeezes my shoulder for support. “Sorry.”

“Guys are like that,” Kat says. She glances at me as she drives. “I hate to say this, but maybe it’s for the best, you know? You two seem to argue a lot.” I don’t blame her for thinking this, because I couldn’t tell her what had happened the last time, that I’d found out that he was the one who had executed me back then—all she knew was that we’d had a fight.

“It’s not for the best,” I say. “This is all just a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t know why you won’t tell me what it was about this time,” she says. “Maybe I can help.”

“I told you, it’s no big deal.” If Kat even got the smallest hint that Griffon broke up with me because he found me with Drew, she’d go ballistic. I had just finally gotten her to stop thinking I had a thing for him. This kind of information would send her over the edge. I point out the front window. “It’s that one there. The one with the brown shingles.”