The Edge of Recall (18 page)

“He heard you.” Tessa tucked a wisp of hair back into her clip.

“He asked me to collaborate on a design that would work for both of you.”

Petra frowned. “How well does he know Rumer Gaston?”

Tessa shrugged. “Only through this, I think.”

“Rumer expects to get what he wants, the way he wants it.”

“If you had told him your ideas, he might have brought the changes to Smith himself.” Had they done Petra and Rumer a disservice by working the plan without them?

“You don’t understand.” Petra touched a gloss wand to the center of her lower lip. “I came in here on the chance he might change his mind—if I’m not there to see it happen.”

Tessa had no idea how to respond, but Petra read her thoughts.

“Why do I put up with that? Because Rumer is riding his star, and it’s rising fast.”

“But you could—”

“Have anyone I want?” She drove the wand into the bottle. “I’m twenty-three. How much runway do you think I have left?”

Wasn’t twenty-three incredibly young to feel washed up? “He’s your fiancé. He must want to know what you like.”

Petra flicked her fingers through the white front of her hair. “Whatev. I got what I wanted. That’s what counts.” She turned from the mirror, all sharp cheekbones and smooth skin.

It was like talking to a shell, a beautifully polished shell the real creature had left behind.

The pulse pumped in Gaston’s temple. “This is not what we discussed.”

Smith held the laser beam of Gaston’s gaze with difficulty and resisted making excuses. He wished Tessa hadn’t left the table. She might have explained their reasoning—her reasoning—better than he could. “We felt it a good blend of the elements we’d been given. Yours and Petra’s.”

“I’m surprised you made that choice. It shows confidence, willingness to take a risk.”

Smith shrugged. “Designs get modified.”

“Mine don’t.”

Again he held his tongue. Tessa had said Gaston wanted to be king. It was in his bearing, his tone, in his command of the room, his casino, his castle. Tess had never met him, had heard only Petra’s side, yet she’d hit it dead on. Probably fifteen years more experienced and immeasurably more voracious, Gaston pinned him with a stare that could shrivel.

Smith didn’t let it. The afterglow of what they’d accomplished had resettled while showing the design, and he would not betray their effort by apologizing. Either Gaston agreed or he didn’t. They could tweak or revamp or throw the whole thing out and start over. But he would not apologize.

Gaston’s eyes narrowed. “Petra show some leg? Promise to play nice?”

Smith stiffened. “Actually it was Tessa. She thought it important you both enjoy your new home. Petra’s ideas at first seemed incongruous, but after hashing it out, we found creative ways to blend the visions—as I imagine you and your fiancée would have done.”

“You imagine wrong. I decide what makes Petra happy. And I give it to her. Anything I want her to have.”

Smith bit hard on the responses that came to mind.

“Lucky for you”—again that penetrating stare—“I like what you’ve drawn. You have some talent.”

“Thank you.”

“And your little maze specialist. Will she deliver?” He intentionally left that ambiguous.

Smith knew his type, always keeping people uncomfortable, on edge. “She’s the best in her field.” He pictured her in the literal field she found so fascinating. “You won’t be disappointed.”

“Who could find her disappointing?”

He refused to be sucked in and deftly changed the subject. “There’s something else you should be aware of. Some odd happenings.” He described the events, letting Gaston draw his own conclusions. If someone was making a point by moving their things, marking their doorstep, Gaston might already know why.

But he looked blank. “What’s it about?”

“I thought you might know.”

Gaston scowled. “I told you I wanted privacy.”

“I don’t think word’s gotten around. This business started as soon as we got there, so I thought maybe someone had issues with our building there. I don’t know the recent history of the property.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Unless it escalates to vandalism and sabotage. Is there anything you know that could have upset someone?”

“Of course not. Have you seen the miscreant?”

Smith shook his head. “He’s eerily invisible.”

As Petra and Tessa reentered the lounge, Gaston hissed, “Don’t tell Petra. She’ll make something supernatural of it.”

Smith nodded. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”

“Figure it out and deal with it.”

Smith stood as the women joined them, seated Tessa, and noted that Petra seated herself, albeit gracefully. What was Gaston’s game? Decked out in his designer suit, his chunky gold ring and Rolex, was he above courtesy? Gaston honed in on Tessa, and the talk turned to landscape and labyrinths.

She explained, “Your labyrinth is a replica of the Chartres Cathedral design, originally laid as a symbolic pilgrimage to the Holy Land. The floor labyrinth in Chartres has over eight hundred feet of paths contained within a tiled circle. Some penitents walk it on their knees.”

“Ow.” Petra grimaced.

“But I believe the St. John labyrinth stood about six feet high in hedge, with a diameter of forty-four yards. It’s going to be quite outstanding once the new hedge has matured and is properly trimmed.”

“Will you be trimming it?” Petra flicked a speck from the table.

Tessa shook her head. “I’ve started uncovering the stone path. I’ll restore that, then plant a new hedge. It will take some time to mature before it can be trimmed. You and Rumer will need a topiary professional to maintain the path, but it could easily be quite a famous garden. I’m certain any number of publications would feature it.”

Petra lit up. “You mean like
Lifestyles of the Rich and
Famous
?”

Gaston iced Petra with a glare. “That’s not happening.”

Tessa must have missed the chill in his expression, since she pressed her point. “It could be completely anonymous. The publications would not reveal the owners or address. But it could be quite an impressive feature.”

Petra pouted. “Why have it, if no one knows?”

“Do you see all this, all these people?” Gaston’s eyelid twitched. “Who here doesn’t know me? Who doesn’t want something from me?” He swept his arm around the lounge, crowded with partiers who seemed more interested in themselves or possibly Petra. But Gaston’s face had reddened. “You haven’t been in enough magazines, you have to put our house on display too? You think I want to live in a circus?”

Petra blanched. “No. It was stupid. Forget it.”

“Forget it; forget it.” His lip curled. “I don’t forget. But maybe you forgot who you’re marrying. Maybe it’s all air inside that sugar coating.” He gripped her chin and wagged her head.

Petra cringed like a scolded dog, far from the vixen who had swept into the office insisting Rumer wanted her happiness.

Tessa straightened. “That’s not—”

Smith gripped her knee. “I’m sure Petra understands that Tessa meant the finished property will equal anything you’ve seen in those types of publications. We’re all in agreement regarding the nondisclosure. Your privacy and Ms. Sorenson’s will be protected.”

Gaston backed off. “Petra has lived a very public life. There isn’t much of her people haven’t seen.”

Smith flushed at the insult, but calling him on it would enflame Gaston once more. Though Petra’s eyes glittered, she said nothing. He followed her cue. His priority was to save the project and make sure Tessa didn’t voice the outrage in her face. “If there’s nothing more, do you mind if Tessa and I tour the casino? I’d like to see what you’ve done.” What someone had done for him, but he knew where to place the credit.

Released by a curt nod, Smith slipped his laptop into his briefcase. He took Tessa’s elbow and helped her down from the high stool. With a hand to the small of her back, he moved her purposefully away from the table. Indignation rose from her in waves. He moved her out of the lounge before she could vent it.

“I won’t do it.”

He kept her moving toward the elevator.

“I won’t build a cathedral labyrinth for that man.”

He’d never seen her so furious.

Her eyes snapped. “He’ll desecrate the path.”

They slipped into the emptied elevator and thankfully had it to themselves. “I understand, Tessa. But we’re under contract. You’re under contract.”

She crossed her arms like blades across her chest. “You saw how he treated Petra. She’s scared to death of him.”

“She’s engaged to marry him.”

She shuddered. “He’s a monster, Smith.”

Her extreme reaction should not surprise him. The man was odious, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t build his house. After tonight he’d minimize any contact Gaston might have with Tessa. He’d guard her if he had to, but he could not afford to give it up. “Do you trust me? Even a little?”

Her throat worked. “This isn’t about you.”

“Gaston and Petra’s relationship is their problem. Our business is to complete a project we can be proud of. Think about what we did, how we did it. There’s value in the work no matter who it’s for.”

She started to shake. “I can’t make a labyrinth for that monster.”

He had to change her mind. Had to overcome Gaston’s oafish behavior. He turned as the elevator slowed, held her gaze with his, and took a chance. “Then make it for me.”

CHAPTER

17

Dismayed, Tessa allowed Smith to guide her out of the elevator into the lobby. He led her straight through to the outside terrace along the Colorado River. The dark water was shot with colorful streaks of light from the casinos that dimmed the stars and illuminated the far bank. The desert night sweltered, the surrounding land was arid, making the river look oddly out of place.

Exactly the way she felt. She didn’t want to be there, didn’t want anything to do with Rumer Gaston. Imagining him lurking in a labyrinth of her creation twisted her stomach and chilled her spine. She would not, could not do it.

Smith touched her arm. “Tess.”

She turned. “Please don’t make this personal. I can’t build the labyrinth for you if Gaston owns it.”

“We’re only completing a contract.”

She clenched her hands. “He’s evil.”

Frustration and a hint of desperation filled Smith’s face. How could she make him understand?

“There’s a fine line between what I do and what I dream. If I build a labyrinth for a real monster, what will keep …” She shuddered.

“Come here.” He enclosed her in a strong embrace that felt so good—even if it was so that he could make his next point.

He eased her back. “Don’t take what I’m going to say wrong, but could you be exaggerating this just a bit? Gaston possesses a loathsome self-importance and is markedly discourteous, but evil?”

She searched his face. “How would you describe his humiliating Petra?”

“Wretched. But, Tessa, she could have walked away. She could have thrown her drink. Or slapped him.”

Maybe. But Petra wouldn’t do it because Gaston had control of her thoughts and emotions. It frustrated her that Smith didn’t get it. “You still want to work for him? You see yourself completing his home, then moving on to resorts and casinos around the world?”

“I want to deliver what we’ve promised, Tess. I wouldn’t be much of a professional if I quit on every client I didn’t like.”

He was right, but it terrified her to bring the nightmare to life, to meld her worlds.

Smith softened. “Think about it. Sleep on it. We need to see our way through with integrity.”

“I know.” She dropped her chin. “And I know you think I’m overreacting. But the first time I stepped onto the path, I sensed that maybe this labyrinth should be left alone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I felt a danger, like … I don’t know.”

He took her hands. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

She shook her head. “You can’t promise that.”

“You’re not afraid.”
But she was! Her chest squeezed. Her legs jellied. She turned and gripped the rail. She would not melt down in front of Smith again. She needed Dr. Brenner, needed to tell him the monster spoke.

“You won’t say a word. Not one word.”

Her throat closed up.

“If you do, I’ll find you.”

She clutched the rail.

“Just the way I did tonight.”

She sensed more than felt Smith supporting her, his words lost behind the evil whisper. She had nowhere to hide now that the monster had escaped her dreams and entered her consciousness, unless … She hardly dared think it. Maybe she had to build the labyrinth to trap him back inside. Maybe that was why it had a gate.

“Tessa, talk to me.”

She made herself turn. Smith clutched her elbows as though she might fall, but her legs had solidified. She knew what she had to do.

Smith drove his gaze into hers. “Are you all right?”

She nodded.

“Can you breathe?”

She realized she’d been sucking air through fear-clogged passages. “I can breathe.”

“You’ve no idea how that scares me.”

“Me too.” Her eyes teared.