Chapter 16

She saw Lucas beckon a finger at the third person in the room. It was a woman in a pants suit and she made it look bewitchingly feminine. She had a slick high ponytail, deep red lipstick, extremely long legs on four-inch heels, and holding an iPad in her arms. She was extremely beautiful with narrowed eyes and pouted lips that gave her a prideful look.

Lucas muttered something to her and she wrote it down on her screen. He went to take a seat on one of the chairs and gulped a handful of water down.

"And what about your meeting with the coders tomorrow?" The woman uttered with perfect enunciation.

It took him a minute to catch his breath.

"Let them know we're going to be running their programs for trial," he exhaled. He set the water bottle down and met his eyes with Abigail. "This is Caroline. She's my secretary and I believe you recognize her from family photos."

Abigail moved from Lucas to her. The resemblance was vague but now that he said that, she did somewhat remembered seeing her when she was studying the Barrington family tree.

Caroline Walters was a distant cousin of his. Though she doesn't come around much, her sharp cheekbones and fierce eyes were a lasting impression on anyone who'd seen her.

"Caroline. Mind replacing him?" Asher called from the mats after throwing a few kicks in the air.

The secretary batted her lashes in annoyance.

"Come on now, darling. Last time I heard, you put a sergeant to sleep." Asher was persistent and quite the prick when he's bored. Apparently, that punch didn't give him what he deserved.

Lucas gestured his approval with his head. He also gave an irritated sigh to show his frustration with the loud guy.

As soon as Caroline left, he started taking off the white bandaging around his hands.

"Surprise seeing you here. Thought you were going to avoid me forever with that sad face. Tell me, what brings you---"

When he finally looked up and saw the book in her hands, his nose flared and he cursed.

"He's asked, hasn't he?"

She didn't understand what he meant by that and just handed him the notebook.

"He said it's your problem to handle."

He snorted. "Precisely not the word choice he would use."

After releasing all the bandages on the one hand, he took the book from her, tossed it on the empty seat next to him, and started on the other. She turned around to leave but a sudden thought appeared in her head and she halted.

"Did you do it?" She turned around.

The question caught him off guard and he clicked his tongue.

"What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. Her eyes traveled to the book and back to him again. The way her lips opened and close displayed the nervousness in her hesitation.

He followed her gaze and when he knew what she was talking about, his jaw clenched with fury. She could practically see the veins on his neck popping.

"You looked?" he spat.

She gasped and took a step back. Her breath became shaky. She didn't mean to provoke him with her curiosity, but she had to get to the bottom, if it means it's related to her Mother's death.

"I couldn't help it," she started to blab. "Something's telling me it's not right. The shed was a special project and it was my understanding that Sir Barrington built it to help me cope with the loss of my Mother. But what's in that book is telling me otherwise."

There was a short pause.

"What do you think it's telling you?" he challenged firmly but his eyes had softened a bit.

She wavered. Swallowed hard and fidgeted with her hands.

"That you were behind all of it."

To her surprise, the corner of his lips pulled up slightly but noticeably. "By any chance, you might consider that into my offer?"

Her eyes blinked and scanned back and forth, really not sure what he's talking about. Maybe her confusion was amusing to him because a smirk was plastered on his face. When he was absolutely sure she didn't understand, he had to pocket his smile.

"That's a yes, Abigail."

Her face was blank.

To assume he was the one behind her shed was just an idea, but to actually hear him admit it was shocking. What did she mean to him? Why was he doing all this for her?

"Does my Mother's death have anything to do with me too?"

As soon as this question was asked, the room strangely went silent. She thought it was just the machines or the music, but even the chattering and grunting from Asher and Caroline's stunts disappeared as well. When she followed Lucas's gaze toward Asher, the two men shared a skeptical look that Abigail cannot simply shrug off.

To confirm her theory, Asher quickly shook his head and muttered, "I knew this day would come."

Lucas swore.

Abigail became lightheaded. An outsider knew. But she didn't?

"Leave us," he exclaimed. His voice was loud, implying his aggravation.

The PI and secretary started to collect their things and made their departure. Lucas put the rest of his bandages inside a duffle bag of his stuff and took a deep breath. He ran both hands through his bright auburn hair then rest his elbows on his knees. His neck craned up to meet her.

"The things you're asking for are not good for you."

"You don't know what's good for me," she opposed him quickly. A part of her was wondering where she's getting all this new strength to defy him. "This is important, unlike anything I can easily dismiss."

He rolled his tongue around in his cheeks. This time, he spoke slowly in case she didn't hear him the first time.

"I don't think you understand the depths of what you're searching for. Before you get too invested in what you do not know of, be sure that the answer is something you may not expect it to be." He paused. "And I don't think you're ready for the answer."

She listened to him intently, nodding her head, not agreeing with what he said, but finally accepting that no one in this Manor would help her seek what she desperately needed. Besides, he had already implied heavily that her Mother's death did somewhat relate to her, or else why would everyone try to hide it extensively? Even Asher?

Did he hate her because she also caused the Lady's death?

"Come here." Lucas puffed out his chest. He extended a hand.

She looked at it, followed it to his thick arm and up to the dangerously handsome face. The last thing she needed was for him to explain his side to her. She loved her Mother, and she loved Lady Barrington just as much. But if no one was willing to consider her feelings of closure, she'll find it somewhere else.

Abigail turned around to leave. There's no point in staying any longer when he's adamant about his position.

She didn't make it another step when she felt a strong grip on her forearm that pulled her back to him. Before she could even determine the distance between them, he had tugged her and closed the space off completely. She fell in between his laps. Both masculine arms wrapped around her tiny waist and a palm pressed her back into him, keeping her locked in place. The side of his head pressed firmly against her chest.

Abigail gasped in surprise and pressed her palms on his shoulders to release her. She thrashed at him, pounding her fists on his solid biceps and digging inside his arm.

It was in vain. He wrapped himself around her like a child begging for affection. She was sure he could hear the rapid pounding of her heart, but she was more worried about the intimate area he was resting against.

His embrace was unyielding. His palm was securely on her back. The weight of his head on her chest was suffocating her dreadfully.

"I know it's unfair to you, and I'm fine if you hate me even more. But what I'm afraid of, is you'll hate yourself when you learn the truth and I can't afford that, little Abby. I can't lose you any more than this."

Although his words came out soft, they struck her like knives. She paused from trying to free herself. At this point, her unknown involvement in her Mother and Lady Barrington's death was more clear than ever. She was stifling the tears welling up in her eye sockets. Her breathing became short and raspy. Her arms fell limp around his shoulders. His silky hair tickled her chin but she could care less. Her bosoms heaved and his head moved along with it.

Eventually, the tears started to drop. How could they not? There was a chance their deaths had something to do with her. The sweet, innocent Abigail. What could she ever do wrong, except cause the death of two mothers?

She had never felt so alone and helpless. She remembered she asked her Father where her Mother went when she didn't come home one day. He vaguely replied to a four-year-old Abigail that she had died. He hugged her, then left her alone to be miserable with the new concept of death. Till this day, she knew no more than when she was a child.

How was it that there's no one she could turn to? No one to answer her. No one to comfort her and give her what she needed. Not her Father. Not John. Not Sir Barrington. And definitely not Lucas.