The Lost Story of Eva Fuentes - 24

Boston

2024

A knock sounded at her hotel room door.

Luke had booked them adjoining rooms at a boutique hotel in Beacon Hill. The rooms were nice and comfortable, the king-size bed in Margo’s room was plush, the water pressure in the shower was perfection. It didn’t hurt that they were right next to each other, either. Ever since they saw the man who had been following her at the airport in Edinburgh, Margo felt as though she had a target on her back.

Margo pulled the towel off her wet hair. She’d showered after they returned from the library, the long travel day catching up with her. It was the middle of the night in London, and her body was completely out of sync. She hadn’t had a chance to eat yet, but considering how gross she’d felt, a shower and change of clothes had been the biggest priority.

Margo walked over and checked the peephole.

Luke stood on the other side.

Margo disengaged the security lock and opened the door.

“I picked up sushi from a restaurant around the corner,” Luke said, holding up trays of food. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes! Thank you. I opted for a shower first, but I was just thinking I could eat.”

“I got plenty of salmon—I know it’s your favorite. Picked up some sake, too.”

Margo groaned. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

“No problem. I figured you’d be hungry.”

It looked like he had showered and changed as well. Gone were the dark pants he’d been wearing earlier. Now he had on gray sweatpants and a black hooded sweatshirt.

He looked good.

Really good.

“Let’s set up over there,” Margo suggested, pointing toward the little sitting area next to the bed.

Luke set the food out on the table and took a seat on one of the end chairs near the couch.

Margo sank down on the couch beside his chair.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, sharing the sake Luke had picked up. Maybe it would have been awkward if not for how many times they had found themselves in this position at the end of a long day. It was easy to slide into their respective roles, for companionship to take over.

“Do you want to watch something?” Luke asked her, gesturing toward the television.

“Sure, feel free to pick whatever.”

Margo set her food aside, curling up onto the couch as Luke picked a mystery series they’d watched the first season of together when they were married.

Back then, they used to sit on the couch at the end of a long day and eat dinner while watching their favorite shows together, the giant table his parents had gifted them sitting empty and unused more often than not. Those had been some of her favorite moments—when she could relax after working, her efforts to build her business at a fever pitch in those early days.

An episode drifted into two, and when Luke looked uncomfortable on the chair, she offered for him to sit on the couch next to her.

He hesitated only for a moment before nodding and joining her.

Later, she would think back to how the night had unfolded, from Luke standing on the opposite side of the door with food in hand—no before that, even (maybe when she was in the shower washing her hair)—to the moment when she invited him to sit on the couch beside her. The thing was—they’d dated, they’d been engaged, married. They knew each other’s moves as well as their own. Margo knew that when Luke had shown up on her doorstep with sushi, he hadn’t just been interested in dinner. Hell, when he told her that he wasn’t seeing Sasha anymore, she’d known that eventually they would end up here. And Luke had likely known when she offered for him to sit on the couch beside her that she wasn’t just talking about watching TV. There was an entire conversation going on between them that needed no words until they ended up beside each other on the tiny couch that wasn’t more comfortable than the chair he’d been sitting on, Luke’s leg pressed against hers, Margo doing her best to keep from running her fingers through her hair, nerves filling her.

Finally, Luke turned to face her.

“Well, this is awkward,” he said.

Margo laughed despite herself. “It is, isn’t it?”

Luke swallowed. “I think about you—a lot. I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I never stopped thinking about you. I think—I wanted to help Mitch, of course. I mean, the last thing he needed was to be worried about work, but if I’m being honest, someone else could have covered it and tracked down the book. I told myself I was the best person to handle it because I’d done similar work when we worked together, because I had some connections like Mr. Thornton, but the truth is, I think I took the job because it gave me an excuse to speak with someone who knew you, who worked with you. Because like I said—I think about you. I miss you. I’ve never stopped missing you.”

Well.

There it was.

She wasn’t surprised Luke had decided to put it out there, especially considering how much they had been dancing around it, but now that he’d thrown down the gauntlet, it was time to face her fears.

She could barely hear what he was saying over the roaring noise in her ears.

This seemed like the worst possible idea on every single level. They were divorced. She’d barely walked away from him whole the first time. When this went sideways—and inevitably it would, how could it not—how was she going to put herself together again?

Silence yawned between them, the awkwardness of the moment nearly engulfing her. She stared down at the pattern of the couch, fixating on the fabric, her body frozen in place, even as she told herself that she needed to get up, to put some distance between them, to inject some logic, and order, and reason into this entire business.

Margo stared down at the couch, because she knew that if she looked up, if she met Luke’s gaze and saw the desire reflected in his eyes, the desire that she could hear in his voice—

And then she said it because it was true, and more than anything, she owed him the truth.

“I never stopped thinking about you, either. And I miss you, too.”

She moved first, misgivings be damned.

Margo kissed him.

As soon as their lips met, he froze, seemingly caught off guard by the fact that she’d taken the lead, and then his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her toward him like he never wanted to let go.

Margo’s eyes fluttered. Sunlight filled the room, filtering in through the drapes. She rolled over to her side.

Luke was gone.

She sat up, the sheets slipping down to her waist, suddenly very awake as the full impact of what had happened hit her.

She’d had sex with Luke. Twice. They’d slept side by side, her body tucked into the curve of his, their fingers linked, palms pressed together, his heart beating against her back. He hadn’t let her go all night, which was extraordinary, considering when they’d been married, neither one of them had been much for cuddling in sleep, preferring space and a good night’s rest. But that was before—

If she had known that their last night sharing a bed as a married couple was going to be their last night together, would she have rolled over onto her side or would she have held on to him tightly as she had last night?

A piece of notepaper with the hotel’s logo at the top of it rested where Luke’s head had left an indent in the pillow.

She grabbed the paper, reading the words written there:

Going to get coffee. Didn’t want to wake you. I’ll bring you back a cappuccino. Got a meeting with Flintrock. They’ll see us at 10 a.m.

Luke

Did he regret last night?

Her phone rang.

Margo glanced down at the screen, expecting—hoping—to see Luke’s name staring back at her.

Greer.

It had been less than four days since they last spoke, since he’d sent her that picture of Luke, but somehow it felt like a lifetime, considering all that had happened in such a short time.

Even though she didn’t work for him, she couldn’t resist answering the call. After all, they were here in part to learn more about the mysterious Greer and who hired him.

“My employer wants to meet with you,” Greer said.

“I don’t think we have anything to discuss, considering that stunt you pulled with the photo you sent me. My office was broken into. I returned your fee. Our business is concluded.”

“Please—” He said the word like a man who wasn’t particularly familiar with using it. “I understand that you’re upset. My employer is as concerned as you are about the direction this entire business has taken. He certainly never intended for anyone to get hurt, much less killed.”

The hotel room door opened.

Luke strode through, an excited look on his face, phone in hand.

He stopped when he saw her on the phone.

“It’s Greer,” she mouthed to him, immediately putting the call on speaker.

Luke hurried toward her.

“Who is your employer?” Margo asked. “Who hired me? After everything, I deserve that much.”

“His name is Bennett Baskin. He’s an American businessman. I work for Mr. Baskin. He would just like a few minutes of your time. We can meet somewhere public. At the place of your choosing. He understands your trepidation in seeing him, but he hopes you’ll reconsider your decision when you talk to him, when you hear his reasons for wanting the book.”

What was his connection to a book published by a Cuban author at the beginning of the twentieth century?

“Why can’t you just tell me them yourself? Let me be the judge of that now.”

“As I said when I hired you, it’s a personal matter. It’s not my story to tell. He’s in London. He’s been traveling on business, but he came to see you, to speak with you in person.”

Margo hesitated. She didn’t think her client was behind the attacks, and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she felt sucked in by the mystery of this strange book as well as a sense of guilt and responsibility surrounding Mr. Thornton’s murder. That still didn’t mean she trusted him.

She probably shouldn’t have been entertaining the thought of hearing him out, but it felt like she owed it to Mr. Thornton. This started with Bennett Baskin hiring her to find A Time for Forgetting . She needed to see it through to the end.

“Is your employer in London right now?” she asked Greer, the decision made.

“He’s staying at a hotel in Mayfair,” Greer confirmed.

“I’m not in London right now. Let me think about it. I’ll be in contact.”

Heart pounding, she disconnected the call.

“Did you get all that?” she asked Luke.

He nodded. “We finally have a name. But get this—you know how there were rumors that A Time for Forgetting was going to be auctioned off?”

“Did you get a lead from one of the auction houses?”

“I did. The Cuban librarian—the one Adriana told us about—her name is Pilar Castillo, and she’s the one who has it and is putting it up for auction. I just got a call from a contact. Pilar is in London. So is A Time for Forgetting. ”