Page 49 of Noctis

I laughed. “Well, that’s definitely not the right way of saying it.” When he lapsed into silence, I took pity on him. “I’m doing better.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

His answer hung between us just long enough for me to believe he might genuinely care. Then he ruined it.

“An earl should be capable of exhibiting self-restraint.”

I snorted. “Says who? We’re in the twenty-first century, not the eighteenth. Besides, I’m not an earl.”

“You will be when I’m gone.”

I didn’t bother answering. We’d had this argument countless times, and it always ended with me wondering whether he wished he’d produced another son—one better suited to inheriting the title.

“Let me know where you want me to drop you.”

I bit down on the urge to say here, concerned he might take me literally and pull over while we were still miles from home.

Instead, I simply nodded.

Chapter Seventeen

Rowan

I waited on the curb outside my house in Kensington until the Bentley disappeared from view, then headed for the front door. I was looking forward to being home. I could change into clothes that weren’t one of the same three outfits―someone needed to tell Tyler that the next time he dumped someone in rehab, he should pack a suitcase rather than a rucksack―and settle onto my own sofa to contemplate everything that had happened.

And there was a lot to contemplate, including the bizarreness of my encounters with Caligo, why my father had come to collect me himself―a decision he’d never explained to my satisfaction―and last but not least, Donald Wentworth and what part, if any, he’d played in my mother’s death.

The key wouldn’t turn in the front door.

I laughed at myself. Christ. How had I been gone long enough to forget which key opened my front door?

Except when I checked, it was the right one.

Strange.

I tried again, making doubly sure I’d inserted it all the way.

Same result.

I dropped my bag and peered through the letterbox. The first thing I noticed was Tyler’s coat hanging on the rack. The second was a pair of his shoes.

He was still here.

Until that moment, I hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that he might ignore my deadline.

The third thing I noticed was the corner of his laptop on the kitchen table, its screen glowing. Someone had been using it recently.

“Tyler? I know you’re there. I can see your laptop.”

Nothing.

“TYLER?” One advantage of having been with someone for two years was knowing exactly what got under his skin. “Fine. Be a fucking coward who’s too scared to face me.”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. A moment later, Tyler rounded the bend and came into view.

“Open the door,” I demanded.

He obliged, but only by a few inches. A chain stretched across the gap―one that hadn’t been there when I left.