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way he had looked at her earlier. Not when Lilac could so easily picture how he looked whenever Karla’s name was mentioned.
    She stole a look at Nick and was surprised to catch him staring.
    Nick watched Lilac’s brows pucker into a charming little frown. Even though the glasses coveringhalf her face made her more unreadable, he instinctively guessed what she was frowning about.
    Why are you staring at me like a stalker?
    In a rough voice unusual for someone known for his polished manners, Nick said with rare honesty, “I’m strangely happy…we’re friends.” The words did not come easy. He didn’t like being beholden to anyone.  But right now, he didn’t like the idea of not having Lilac York in his life even more.
    For so long, the memories of Karla had been like a festering wound that didn’t heal – one Nick wasn’t even sure he wanted to heal. But with Lilac, the wound had stopped aching.
    For the first time in years, Nick felt…free.
    He knew Lilac wasn’t Karla, knew Lilac wasn’t better or worse than his ex. But he also knew Lilac was different. Lilac was special – a person he wouldn’t want to give up.
    When they reached her home and Nick got out of the car to open the door for her, Lilac’s heart started beating madly. Shameful as it was to admit, Lilac was wondering if Nick Christakos would kiss her goodbye. The silly thought was more than enough to make Lilac sigh and mentally berate herself: friends did not kiss each other, you ninny!
    Nick assisted Lilac out of the car, and then they were standing next to each other. Taking a deep calming breath because she so didn’t want to slip up, Lilac said very carefully, “Thank you…for driving me home.” She turned towards the house and slowly started to walk towards it.
    Nick’s phone rang as he continued to gaze at Lilac’s retreating form, even though he knew she wasn’t the type to look back.
    “Nick? You there?”
    “Yes.” It took him more seconds than usual to answer.
    “You sound weird, brother. What the hell are you doing?”
    “Just drove a girl home.”
    Jason whistled. “You personally drove her home? She must be good---”
    “Lilac’s not like that,” he said sharply before he could stop himself.
    “What do you mean she’s not like that?”
    He kept silent.
    After a beat, Jason said incredulously, “You drove a girl home even though nothing happened between you?” The grin in his brother’s voice was unmistakable.
    Nick rolled his eyes. “Fuck you.”
    “I want to meet her---”
    “Not on your life.”
    “Why not? Scared that she’ll like me more?”
    He tried to picture Jason with Lilac, and jealousy struck him. “Fuck you again.”
    Jason chuckled. “Ah, brother, you’re just making me want to see her more---”
    “If you’re just going to waste my fucking time---”
    “Wait!” All humor fled Jason’s voice. “I have something to tell you.”
    Nick tensed. “What is it?”
    “They’ve found Beatrice.”
    ****
    As far back as Nick could remember, Beatrice Crichton had loved living the high life, partying and drinking until dawn, with the occasional drug-and-sex weekend every time Aristos Christakos was away on a business trip.
    Dressed in an obviously expensive wraparound dress and stilettos, her hands weighed down by costume jewelry, their father’s widow looked extremely out of place in the almost-bare interrogation room.
    Once, she had been Ariston’s blushing bride, a trophy wife whose only claim to fame was her supposed skills between the sheets, a fact that most millionaires in Greece could attest to. Now, she was nothing but a shadow of her former self, a socialite turned convicted criminal who looked every bit of her thirty-three years and then some.
    Her expertly applied make up was unable to hide the ravaging effects of the kind of lifestyle she was known to pursue. Dark bags circled her eyes, her skin was sallow, and she was far too thin to be healthy.
    Behind the two-way mirror, the