Master of the Opera, Act 5: A Haunting Duet Read Online Free PDF Page B

straightened up when she came up the stairs and gave her a rueful smile that did nothing to warm his eyes. “I missed you, so I came early.”
    “That’s sweet of you.” She pecked him on the cheek to avoid more of a kiss.
    He took a couple of the grocery bags from her, giving an irritated look at the cheerful Reusable Bag! cartoons on them. “Let me help you,” he said, and they both pretended this wasn’t the first time he’d ever entered her apartment.
    “Want a beer?” Christine held up the six-pack she’d bought. She tried not to fret about him coming into her apartment. Why the sudden change of heart? Did he suspect she was lying to him? “They’re not cold, but they’re air-conditioned-store cool.”
    “Yeah. Okay, thanks.”
    He sat in one of her faux Southwestern-antique bar stools, painted a garish orange she planned to change one of these weekends, and watched her put the groceries away, his eyes speculative. When she finished, she popped a beer for herself, leaned her elbows on the counter, and raised her eyebrows in silent question.
    “I see the cops are sitting outside.”
    “Yeah. I guess I’m of sufficient interest that they want to see what I buy at Trader Joe’s.”
    He snorted, then searched her face. She kept hers smooth, no cracks for him to crawl into. “They treat you okay? I hated to think of you being down there all alone.”
    “I’m fine. It wasn’t too bad. I don’t know anything, so that helps.”
    “You know something.” When she straightened, he tilted his head, giving her that charming grin. “The lawyers said they asked about me. And that you talked to the cops before they got there. What did you tell them?”
    The fine hairs prickled on her arms, but she played it cool. And stupid. “What would I say? You don’t know anything. You’re only involved in all of this because of dumb ol’ me.”
    “Yeah.” He shrugged, drinking his beer, his eyes on her. “Where did you go to pray last night?”
    She started to say “huh?” but stopped at the flat look in his eyes. Hard-edged, full of venom.
    “You didn’t have your car, so where did you go? Are you seeing someone else?”
    “No!” But she heard the lie in her own voice.
    “Because I’ll kill him, if you are. And then I’ll make you sorry. Do you understand?”
    “I’m not seeing anyone else.”
    He laughed, a hollow sound. “You sound oh so guilty. Tell me the truth. Confession is good for the soul.”
    Her sunny kitchen dimmed and exhaustion crept in, a headache throbbing in her temples. She rubbed one, aware of Roman’s cruel smile. He rose and patted her on the ass on the way to the refrigerator. “Want another one, sweet girl?”
    “I think you should go. I need to rest before dinner tonight.”
    “But we haven’t finished talking. You’re a terrible liar, you know. Makes me wonder whose blood you carry after all.”
    That remark chilled her further.
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “I think you know.” He raised an eyebrow and leaned against the counter; elegant, confident. “You’ve been doing your research, haven’t you? The merger of our two families will be quite profitable for us all. It’s fated.”
    “I don’t believe in fate.” But her mouth was dry around the words, full of sticky cobwebs.
    Roman popped the top on the beer and carelessly dropped the cap on the floor. “You don’t have to believe anything. You just have to be a good girl and do what you’re told. Are you being a good girl, Christy?” He helped himself to the bag of chips she’d planned to pack in her lunches. “I know what my fiancée told me—pillow talk, you know. You felt so guilty, confessing to me about your secret lover. Maybe he’s the one who hurt the lovely Carla, whose only crime was to piss you off.”
    She stared at him aghast. He tossed the bag aside and, in a lightning-fast move, grabbed her by her wrists, wrestling them behind her and crushing her against the counter. He tried to kiss