couldn’t shake her head fast enough. “I don’t.”
“Not this face. But you know me.”
Did her heart actually skip a beat or two? It sure felt like it. He was weaving some kind of spell, and she had to put a stop to it now.
Olivia managed to slap her hand on his chest to push him away, but even that didn’t work. It only reminded her that she wanted to touch him. Wanted him to touch her right back.
An image flashed through her head. Just a smear of movement she’d already seen in the dreams that she’d been having for the past week.
A hand on a perfectly toned chest.
No shirt.
Bare skin on bare skin.
Olivia caught a whisper of another scent. Not death. This time it was something expensive and totally male. But both the image and the scent were gone before she could even latch on to them.
Much to her disgust, she wanted to latch on to them.
“How?” she asked, hoping he could make sense of the string of questions. “Why? And what is this?”
Lucian stepped back, and she immediately felt the loss. Or something. Yes, she was perhaps going insane, but Olivia forced herself to stay put when he went to his desk. Best to keep some distance between them.
“You’ll want to see this,” he assured her, and he turned the laptop screen in her direction. With a few clicks on the keyboard, a photo popped up. One that she instantly recognized.
“That’s Damien Brannon,” she supplied. One of the people she’d researched at Lucian’s request. And someone Olivia had dreamed about since she’d started this whole research mess. “He was a wealthy businessman.”
“He was murdered nearly thirty years ago.”
“Yes, I know.” That definitely came up in her research and was likely the reason for that death scent she’d caught earlier.
Lucian motioned around the room. “Then you probably also know he owned this building, among others.”
She nodded. “He was murdered here.”
“Right again. Does anything about this place seem…familiar?”
Olivia felt the chill. Not from the AC, either. This chill had come from inside her, and she had another look around. Not only at the room but at Lucian himself. Everything did feel familiar. Including the sickening feeling of dread that churned in the pit of her stomach.
There hadn’t been photos of the room on the internet, but had she seen this place in her dreams, too?
“You know Damien,” he said.
“No. He died when I was a baby,” she insisted. “I couldn’t have known him, and before today, I’ve never been to this building. What’s this all about? And why did I let you touch me? With all the self-defense classes I’ve taken, you should be in pain right now.”
The corner of his mouth lifted just a fraction, but she got a smidge of that slow, killer smile before it vanished. It happened at the exact moment he put another photo on the screen.
Yet someone else she recognized. And someone else from her dreams.
“Marissa Langford,” he said. “She and Damien were murdered at the same time.”
Yet something else Olivia already knew, but again, the internet was short of photos. This shot of Marissa was pleasant enough. The camera loved her, the lens gobbling up all that tumbling blonde hair and those luscious curves. She’d been a pampered rich girl. Worlds removed from Olivia’s own, yet there was something about Marissa that felt familiar, too.
“I had an experience when I bought this place,” Lucian said, drawing her attention back to him. Not that her attention had strayed too far. Lucian had a way of monopolizing the room.
And the air.
The next photo popped on the screen. One she definitely hadn’t seen on the internet. It, too, was Damien and Marissa. Naked. Marissa was straddling him, Damien’s erection buried deep inside her. His hands were clamped on her fleshy hips, her ample breasts dangling inches from his open mouth.
Since Marissa was smiling for the camera, Olivia guessed this was some kind of personal porn that they’d taken of themselves. But it was affecting her, too.
Mercy, was it.
She could almost feel Damien’s hands on her. Could almost feel him hard inside her. The way his eager tongue would slide over her breasts. She could even feel the orgasm rippling through her. Olivia dragged in a long breath, hoping it would help. It didn’t. “Why are you showing me this?”
His gaze came back to hers. “Because that’s us. That photo was taken in this very room.”
Lucian paused, pointed to a spot on the floor a few yards away from his desk. “And that’s where we were murdered.”
Chapter Two
“I can’t do this,” Olivia said, her voice filled with the same panic that Lucian saw in her eyes.
She snatched her purse off the floor and bolted for the door. Something that Lucian had predicted she would do. What he hadn’t predicted was she could move damn fast in that slim skirt and heels. She was already in the hall before he pulled her back into the office.
“I can’t do this,” she repeated, the sob tearing its way through her throat.
Yes, he got that, but neither of them exactly had a choice here.
“It’s not us,” Olivia insisted. “We weren’t murdered.” She looked up at him, tears shimmering in her ice-blue eyes and her bottom lip quivering.
He felt every bit of what she was feeling and then some.
Because Lucian knew a lot more than he’d told her. Enough to generate a mountain of fear, and he wasn’t a man who scared easily. Hell, before this, he’d never been scared in his entire life. But he was now. Not for himself.
But for her.
“It happened.” No way to soften the blow on that. He pointed toward the picture on the laptop. “But that happened, too. They were lovers.”
Lucian had to shake his head. It was a lot more than just that. Damien and Marissa had been obsessed with each other.
Best to save that detail for later.
Other details, too.
“Why do you possibly think we’re them?” she asked. There was more grit in her voice now. She’d blinked back the tears and was no doubt ready to run off again.
Especially after the explanation he was about to give her.
It would require a giant leap of faith on her
