Loki's Game Read online

  Definitely a test.

  He wore a well-tailored suit with a long-waist coat of dark blue linen lined with black satin, and he moved like a man used to partaking of the finer things in life. His quiet confidence both excited and unnerved her. Lily perched on the edge of the chair, eyes still fixed on him. His smile was natural and easy, and put her on edge as he took the seat opposite her, sinking into its comfort as if he’d sat there a thousand times.

  “Relax,” he said. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

  “Thank you, Mr…”

  “Rowan,” he said, extending his hand toward her. “Rowan Keir.” She accepted the friendly offer, prepared to shake it. Instead, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the skin just behind her knuckles. “Enchantée.” Lily cleared her throat to hide the girlish giggle threatening to escape. It was such a cheesy line, but so, so flattering.

  “A pleasure, Mr. Keir.”

  “Call me Rowan.”

  “All right, Rowan,” she said, trying hard to ignore the tingle across the back of her hand where his lips touched. “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but I was hoping you could tell me what sort of job it is I’m applying for.” He hit her with the full force of his smile, a sight that would have made her knees weak had she been standing.

  “Very straightforward. I like that.” He poured two cups of tea. “The position I offer is unique. It requires certain…talents.” She swore his words had a double meaning as he pushed a cup toward her. “Honey?”

  Lily had to clear her throat twice before speaking. “Thank you.”

  “This position will require close collaboration with me on many topics,” he said blithely, as if he had not noticed the immediate effect he’d had on her. Lily knew men weren’t immune to that sort of thing—he could probably smell the change in her body’s chemistry…if not see the bright burn of embarrassment heating her cheeks.

  “So, an assistant.”

  He smirked, and she went gooey inside. “Something like that.”

  At a complete loss for words, Lily lifted the cup to her lips. He watched her, mimicking her movements. Her eyes wandered back to the Monet painting above the fireplace, grasping for a way to break the tension. This man was not ordinary in any way, a realization both terrifying and refreshing. At least he would be anything but dull.

  “Tell me a bit about yourself,” Rowan said, startling her back to attention. His gaze was intense and intimate, and Lily cleared her throat nervously, hugging the teacup to her.

  “I’m twenty-seven, never married, no pets, no job, and bills coming out of my ears.” She took a sip of her tea. “Other than that, there isn’t much to tell.”

  “That is unfortunate,” Rowan said. The look on his face was strange, as if he didn’t know how to verbalize the thoughts in his head.

  “What about you?” Perhaps if she prompted him…

  “Also not much to tell. Thirty-four. Never married. But I do have a pet.” Lily barked a nervous giggle and they fell back into tense silence. She sipped her tea once more. Rowan looked around, admiring his collection.

  Look at me like that, Lily caught herself thinking, and immediately squashed the thought. Tension! She couldn’t stand it.

  “The Monet…is that an original?” she asked. The question obviously pleased him.

  “It is. An early variation of Water Lilies.”

  “So you’re a collector?”

  Rowan nodded. “You are an art lover,” he replied. She blushed again, and felt silly for doing so.

  “Sort of,” she admitted. “I was an art history major. My specialization is Renaissance artwork.” Why was she telling him this? He had her résumé!

  “Impressive,” he said as if he was just learning this information. “So far you are the only prospect who has been able to correctly name one of my paintings.”

  “Score one for the home team,” she said, twirling one finger in a sarcastic fashion while attempting to ignore his comment—if he had more than one painting then she was in way over her head. He chuckled, and the sound shot through her like a surge of pure energy.

  “And a sense of humor. Miss Redway, you are by far the most interesting woman I have met in years.” She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. But one thing was certain…spending much more time in his presence would lead to very bad things. He was intoxicating, like a glass of fine, aged wine. Just this small taste of him already had her wanting more.

  Stop it, she berated herself, this is your future boss! In one gulp, she drained her cup. Here she was already placing herself in the job, and she didn’t even know what it was yet. This whole interview felt completely absurd—like it was only a front for something different. The longer she sat there, the less she felt like a job candidate and the more she felt like she was about to be propositioned. And she could not guarantee to herself that she would turn him down if he did.

  Talk about skewed perceptions.

  “So you know artwork,” he continued with a smile. “What can you tell me of mythology?”

  Lily shrugged. “Not much,” she said, thankful for the abrupt change to a less personal subject. “I had to study the history around the time period relevant to my degree, but the ancient mythologies I can’t say I know much about.” Setting her cup on the table, she brushed a hand over the side of her head to make sure her hair was still in place. “I know the Greek and Roman stories from high school, but I don’t really know much of the others.” She pinned him with a steady gaze. “Is there a reason you ask?”

  He smiled.

  “I find myself drawn to the old histories,” Rowan said. “Nordic mythology seems to be a particular favorite of mine.”

  “You mean Odin and Loki?”

  “The very ones,” he replied, and her heart leapt into her throat. She didn’t know these things! She was losing her chance… She had to find a way to save this.

  “Is that knowledge relevant to this job?” Lily asked.

  “Not necessarily,” he answered, and she relaxed a bit, watching him as he spoke and taking in the way his Adam’s apple moved in speech, the way his lips formed around the words, and wondered for a moment what those lips would feel like forming around hers. “But I cannot promise that I will not bore you to tears with the stories.”

  “I like stories,” she said dumbly. Lily grimaced and covered her face with her hand. She was making an absolute fool of herself, and all he could do was smile at her with his too-full lips and his bright, white teeth.

  “More tea?” he asked, already pouring before she could answer. “So tell me something,” he continued in an obvious attempt to put her mind at ease, “what made you answer such a vague advertisement?”

  “Curiosity,” she replied with a noncommittal shrug. “Masochism,” she added and she heard his cup rattle on its saucer as he held in his laughter. “But mostly I think it’s because I don’t have a job.”

  “Again, points for honesty.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.” An enigmatic smile played across his lips and his eyes glimmered with something wicked. Her throat went dry.

  “Why would you post such a vague ad?”

  “Those are the requirements.”

  “But I still have no idea what the job is!”

  The good humor never left his eyes. “Consider it an engagement.” He placed his cup to the side and rose. “Come, walk with me and I will try to help you understand.”

  She boggled at him, but did as he asked. Rowan extended his elbow and she slipped her hand through, and the urge to giggle swept over her again. Even beneath the fabric of his coat, his skin burned against her fingers. “Your résumé says you were a curator,” he said, leading her through the door. “What happened?”

  “The museum lost its funding and closed.” She sighed. “The collection was scattered amongst the investors and returned to owners.” Lily shrugged one shoulder, trying to hide her disappointment. “There isn’t much call for an art history major a
nywhere else.”

  A low, vibrating chuckle escaped him, shimmering through her and all the way to the tips of her toes. Every cell in her body grew hotly aware of him, of his side brushing against the back of her hand as they walked.

  “Your professors trained you well.” Lily grinned at the compliment, and covered the motion with her hand. She didn’t want to appear too eager or too smitten. Besides, in her experience, compliments were usually followed by less pleasant things. “Now what of your family?” he asked. Shaking the butterflies from her stomach, she dared a glance up at him. His profile wasn’t one that could be considered perfect, but it was still enough to make her want to get closer—to completely derail her brain.

  “My parents live in Tampa,” she said. “I was already in Atlanta, so they left Charleston when my dad retired. I’m an only child.”

  “I am sorry to hear that. Being an only child can be lonely.”

  “‘You know this from experience?”

  “I do.”

  “What of your parents?” she asked.

  “Deceased.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Do not be,” he said, and laid a hand over her fingers, still curled at the crook of his elbow. The contact sizzled. “They lived long, full lives and wherever they are, I know they are together.” They entered a room that she realized a moment too late was an elevator…not that it mattered. She wasn’t the type to be interested in intimate contact against the wall of a moving elevator. At least, she hadn’t been before. Lily reminded herself of his potential for being a psychopath, but the idea only heightened her desire for him. He didn’t have to actually murder her… there were so many other ways he could kill her.

  “You were close?” she asked, and cleared her throat to shuffle the thoughts from her mind. He punched a button to take them upstairs—to the second of three floors in this sprawling monster of a house.

  “We were. My father was my best friend. He taught me everything I know.”

  Conversation fell aside as the doors opened and they entered a gallery of glass cases. Lily’s eyes widened as she took in the collection.

  “Oh, my God,” she said with a breathy gasp, “how did you get all of this?”

  “My father’s legacy,” Rowan said. “Please, have a look around.”

  Lily gasped, her eyes widening in awe. The items in the cases were breathtaking—bits of history thought to be lost forever. She recognized many of the pieces, from early Mesopotamian to late Renaissance, each piece carefully preserved. She wandered through the rows, lost in the sheer majesty of the collection until movement on the far end of the room caught her attention. She had all but forgotten her host, but he seemed to pay no mind. He appeared perfectly content to watch her.

  There was something in his eyes that frightened her…something dark and powerful.

  Possessive.

  This was not good. She realized this interview absolutely was something else; something for which no amount of school could prepare her. Lily felt trapped, as if she’d been lured in with luxuries only to be stalked by something sinister. Psychopath. Lunatic. Serial Killer.

  Shaking herself back to reality, she crossed the room to stand in front of him. She smiled as best she could while fighting to control the nervous shriek building in her throat.

  “Thank you, Mr. Keir,” she said briskly, “for a lovely time and the tea, but I’m afraid I can’t work for you.” She extended her hand to him, and he took it, his thumb grazing the sensitive flesh of her wrist.

  “That is too bad,” he said, regret tugging at the corners of his eyes. “But before you leave, might I ask why?”

  Lily hesitated. Why did she want to leave? Was she afraid of him? Or was she afraid of herself if left in captivity with him for long periods of time? She didn’t know anymore. What she did know was that he was very handsome and very, very tempting, and this situation was spiraling out of control. Fast.

  “Let’s just say it’s a matter of trust,” she said. “My mother always taught me to be wary of things that seem too good to be true.”

  “You do not trust me,” he said, disappointment mixing with the regret on his face. He still held her hand, absently circling her skin with the pad of his thumb and sending little tingles of sensation coursing through her body. “I do apologize for that. Perhaps we should return to the sitting room to finish our discussion?”

  “No,” she said. “It isn’t you I don’t trust.”

  This revelation clearly puzzled him. His eyebrows knitted in confusion, and the left corner of his lip curled away from his teeth just enough to show the enamel behind it. “Who do you not trust, my dear?” There it was again…that unconscious affection which threatened her undoing. God, she was going to have to admit that she wanted him in a bad way.

  “Myself,” she said in a quiet voice, looking away. “I don’t even know what this job is,” she continued. “All I know is that you want a woman my age, you like a sense of humor, and you are obviously too wealthy for your own good because your private collection is more impressive than the Smithsonian!” Catching her own irritated reflection in the side of one of the display cases, Lily sighed and turned away from him. “I don’t know what you could ever want with someone like me… I’m nothing.”

  “You could not be more wrong,” he said, just behind her left ear. She jumped in surprise, once again very aware of his presence. “You, Lily Redway, are exactly what I have been looking for.”

  She snorted and took a few steps to put some distance between them. She glanced at her reflection again. She was what could only be described as average. Average height, average weight, with average-length brown hair, and a butt she was convinced was too big. She always liked her bright blue eyes, but compared to the sparkling depth of his, even those appeared dull. He could never want her the way she craved him.

  “I have not been completely honest with you, I am afraid,” Rowan said, again closing the distance between them. “I am looking for an assistant of sorts... A partner.”

  “You said that.”

  “But more than anything I am looking for a companion.”

  She turned then to glare at him. “A girlfriend?”

  “For a bit,” he admitted. “I need an assistant to manage my assets. Someone to talk to, to care about… and to one day care about me.” His gaze tangled around hers, and she felt its pull despite the fury boiling in her gut. “I want a mate.”

  Lily’s brain went into overdrive. Anger filled her chest, bleeding over into her eyes and coating her tongue with venom. She’d known it from the start. It was all a setup. She’d told herself over and over it couldn’t be, that she was imagining the worst. Faced with the truth, she couldn’t believe he thought this silly plan would work.

  “You think it’s all right to lure women in with your charm and wealth only to shoot them down because they aren’t good enough for you? Is this your way of telling me to buzz off?”

  “No,” he said, extending his arms as if he were reaching for her. He stopped short, and dropped his hands back to his sides when she glared at him. “You are the only woman I have met in two months of searching whom I have even considered.”

  “That’s supposed to be a compliment?”

  “The highest.”

  She deflated. How could she argue with the sincerity in his tone?

  “Let me take you to dinner,” he said—almost pleaded. “Give me one more chance to explain all of this to you in a neutral setting. If you still wish to leave after you have heard my story, you can go and never look back.” He turned his hand palm up to her. “Please, Lily.”

  She sighed. Insanity. That was the only way to describe what was going on. Complete and utter craziness. If she were smart, she would walk away, hormones be damned. Yet she couldn’t muster the impetus to put one foot in front of the other.

  “Last chance, but I expect real answers,” she said, inwardly cringing at her own foolishness.

  “Of course,” he agreed, smiling when
she took his hand.

  Rowan led her through the labyrinthine hallways that made up his home—and this was his home, she realized as they passed through the massive, gourmet kitchen, pausing only long enough to remove the smoking jacket he wore and lay it across the back of a barstool before resuming his trek into the garage—all the while explaining various pieces of his collection. The small talk he offered only accentuated his nervousness. Lily wasn’t sure she understood why he was trying so hard to impress her.

  And she certainly wasn’t going to admit that it was working.

  Inside the cavernous garage he led her to a small, black two-seater, laid back the top, opened her door, and helped her inside. The manners were good, but she was still confused. He was going to explain the scenario to her—not that she particularly wanted to know what was going on.

  * * * * *

  When the car stopped, it was in front of an upscale bistro fourteen blocks from his home. A young man in a full tux opened her door and helped her out, then took Rowan’s place behind the wheel. The car disappeared a moment later, leaving them standing on the sidewalk.

  “I’ve never been here,” Lily said. Now it was her turn to be nervous. “It looks expensive.”

  “No more than any other establishment I frequent. It is far less formal, however.”

  Lily’s attitude flattened. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

  Rowan smiled. “Come on.” He pulled open the door and led her inside.

  The little restaurant was artfully decorated, the walls and floors covered in shabby-chic, mismatched furniture and decorations. Along the far wall sat three pastry cases, filled with the most delectable sights. A few people milled about, discussing their dessert choices as Rowan led her to a small table near the window.

  A waitress materialized at Rowan’s elbow, a bright smile turned on him. She appeared to not notice Lily’s presence at all. If she had, she was certainly doing a good job of pretending otherwise. Rowan ordered a bottle of white wine and two glasses of water, then asked for the afternoon’s special for both of them.