I felt my spirit still, and I chose my words very carefully, although they came out sharper than I intended.
“Are you telling me your son is a psychopath?”
“No.”
Then he turned and looked at me, those gleaming silvery eyes locked on mine.
“I want you to affirm to the HNL that he’snota psychopath.”
Immediately I was shaking my head.
“No.No. That’s a bad idea. My work is all about helping psychopaths practice kindness and empathy, and I am always scrupulously honest. I can’t go into a session with a patient with a preconceived idea. That’s totally antithetical to my ethics and morals as a scholar.”
“Please,” my boyfriend said. “And it’s important that you meet him. After all, I’m hoping our relationship is long term.Verylong term.”
I hesitated. How likely was it that his son was a psychopath, really? They were very rare. I couldn’t count how many parents had eagerly shoved their offspring at me to be analyzed, only for me to find out they weren’t psychopaths at all, just spoiled.
“What’s he done?”
“Nothing much.” Lucian waved his hand. “A few fights throughout the years. Last year a drunk and disorderly charge. But, there’s still—hesitation on their part.”
“Why hesitation? Is he very good at hockey?”
“He’s a genius,” Lucian said seriously, meeting my eyes earnestly. “Gabriel is a young man who has everything he could ever want—skilled enough to play in the major leagues, moremoney than he can spend, very intelligent, can get any girl he wants. It’s made him a bit—arrogant. I think his lack of—a sympathetic personality makes the team reluctant to play him. They want assurances.”
“That doesn’t sound like psychopathy,” I said with relief. “Many young men of his age are arrogant. How old is he exactly?”
“22.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It sounds like perhaps a normal trajectory for a very privileged athlete. And you say he’s been good at sports his whole life? It’s not uncommon for young men to think the whole world revolves around them. It has nothing to do with psychopathy. Very few people are true psychopaths.”
“I agree,” Lucian said, smiling at me.
God, he was handsome.
“It would mean a lot if you came down to Ashgrove for a few weeks. Just to observe him. A word from a scholar of your stature would convince the Steelblades management he’s safe to play.”
“I don’t know. . .” I parried, but I couldn’t help being curious.
A fewweeksnow? That was a good sign he really was serious.
Silver fox, considerate lover, good job, and he had afamily manor.
There must be something wrong with Lucian, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what.
“I will not promise to do anything but my professional duty,” I said firmly. “It doesn’t sound like anything much is wrong with Gabriel except perhaps he’s a little spoiled. But if there was, I warn you, I take my job very seriously. I won’t sugarcoat it for you.”
“Perfect,” Lucian said, bending down to kiss me. “That’s all I ask. After all, I don’t want to be presumptuous but. . . hopefullyas his future stepmother. . . you have a vested interest in his health and well-being, too.”
CHAPTER 2
The next day we drove to Ashgrove Manor. It was about 45 minutes outside of town and past a series of charming little hamlets and rolling green hills covered with the bounty of a New England harvest.
The nearby village was small and adorably quaint, with a neat little pub, schoolhouse, and downtown, and Lucian and I stopped to pick up a pumpkin to carve from a wizened old farmer.
“Why is it called Ashgrove?” I asked as my excitement started to grow.
“Oh, this house has many long-standing old legends and ghost stories,” Lucian said as he hopped out to open up the high wrought iron gates.
