Текст книги "Blindfold Vol. 1"
Автор книги: M. S. Parker
Соавторы: Cassie Wild
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Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 9 страниц)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Book Description
Blindfold Release Schedule
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
All series from M. S. Parker
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Acknowledgement
About The Authors
Blindfold Vol. 1
By Cassie Wild and M.S. Parker
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Belmonte Publishing LLC
Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC.
Book Description
I came from a large family, neither rich nor poor. We never went hungry, but we always had to work for what we wanted. So when I was sent to work as the personal assistant to Isadora Lang, the twenty year-old orphan and multi-billionaire heiress, I knew I could never fit into her world. Not that I had any desire to fit in…that was, until I met her gorgeous ass of an older brother, Ashford Lang.
For the last thirteen years, Ashford Lang has been the substitute parent to his younger sister, and when he hears that Isadora has hired a personal assistant named Toni Gallagher, he's determined to do what he's always done – protect his baby sister.
The last thing he expects when meeting Toni is a tiny, fiery redhead who doesn't give a damn who he is. A challenge no doubt. One that Ash is more than willing to take.
What he doesn't know is that, soon, Toni will be the least of his concerns.
Don't miss the first steamy book in the Blindfold series, the newest collaboration from M. S. Parker and Cassie Wild.
Blindfold Release Schedule
Blindfold Vol. 1 – September 18th
Blindfold Vol. 2 – September 25th
Blindfold Vol. 3 – October 2nd
Blindfold Vol. 4 – October 9th
Blindfold Vol. 5 – October 16th.
Chapter 1
Toni
“Six months.”
I stared at the check Dr. Willis Schumacher had given me when I visited him in the hospital, trying to understand how this could have happened. All right, I understood how it happened. On an intellectual level anyway.
A hand reached out and tugged my hair, successfully getting my attention. Victor, my pain-in-the-ass older brother was grinning at me. He'd always pissed me off when he pulled my hair as a kid, but it had always been impossible not to smile at least a little.
Only a little, though.
It would take quite a bit more to make me smile as much as I normally did. I didn’t get down often, but the past week had managed to shoot my mood straight down to the level of toxic.
“Aw, come on, Sis.” Vic braced his elbows on the table and leaned down, trying to catch my gaze. His dark red hair was the exact same shade as mine and the wind blew it back from his face. “It’s going to work out.”
The brisk April breeze had managed to rip my hair from its loose knot, so I glared at him through a tangle of hair. “Six fucking months!”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Toni…”
“Stop it, Vic.”
Aggravated, I surged up from the wrought iron chair and started to pace. We’d met for coffee in Bryant Park, which showed how well Vic knew me. At twenty-seven, he was three years older than me and we'd always been close. It had been Vic and me against our three older brothers more times than I could count. And he knew that what I needed right now was to vent.
“Doc Schumacher had a heart attack, Toni.”
Sometimes, I needed somebody to yell at since I couldn't yell at life.
“Really?” I practically snarled at him. “So that’s why I spent ten minutes pounding on his chest?”
Ribs had cracked. I’d never forget the sound of it. Rubbing the heel of my hand over my chest, I swallowed back the bile that rose there even as I thought of it now, days later.
Vic lapsed into silence. Doc Schumacher, my boss – former boss now – was one of my oldest friends. One of my family’s oldest friends. I’d known him since I was a little girl. He was part of the reason I decided I wanted to help people. I’d had a kitten when I was four, and she’d somehow managed to break her leg. He’d found me bawling in the alley next to my family's house, the house where my parents still lived.
He’d helped calm the kitten – and me – down, then he’d stabilized her leg and taken me to my parents. Her name had been Reeses. Like the candy. She died a few years ago. I’d never forgotten how kind he’d been. That was one of the reasons I'd wanted to work for him while I put myself through college.
I guess that’s why I wasn’t prepared for the fact that the heart attack that almost killed him would also terminate my employment earlier than I'd planned. Willis had always seemed invincible to me. Even at seventy-two, I'd only seen him as strong and capable. I'd seen him that way up until the moment he collapsed. When he told me that his doctor told him he had to make major changes, I hadn't truly realized what that would mean.
I was trying to be logical about this. Logical and not selfish, but the job that had paid my tuition, my living expenses, for my books, for everything these past few years was just…gone.
I was six months shy of being done with my Ph.D in psychology. I could have been done two years ago, but balancing the course load with my finances…well. It was basically impossible.
Feeling Vic’s gaze on me, I looked over at him. “Where am I going to find another job that will pay what I make and let me have the days off I need to finish up?”
“I might have an idea,” he said.
His dark eyes shifted away from mine, and I knew whatever he was thinking was probably a bad idea. I loved my big brother, but he wasn't exactly known for his good ideas. I lifted my face to sky and blew out a breath.
Six damn months. The luck I had sometimes was just ridiculous. Although, looking at it logically, I wasn’t the one who’d technically died for six minutes, so I supposed I was being a bit petty.
“Talk about putting things in perspective,” I muttered.
“If you’re done talking to yourself...”
Glaring at him, I shoved my hair out of my face as the wind snatched at it again. I swore as it whipped across my face. Going to sit back by my brother, I dug through the messenger bag that doubled as a purse and book bag.
“Whatever idea you have probably isn’t the sort of job I want, Vic.”
I ran a brush quickly through the snarls and then separated my heavy hair into two sections. The braided pigtails might look juvenile to some, but it was a style that had been popular for a reason – it worked. Especially for pain-in-the-ass hair like mine.
“Fine.” Vic shrugged. “Don’t listen to me. I guess you can always go to work for the family business.”
I made a face at him, refusing to let the idea even settle in my brain. My family was close, as close as a family could be, really. But there was still tension between Vic and the rest of our brothers. And with Dad.
Vic had gotten into trouble as a teenager, and it still rubbed him wrong that Dad had left him to deal with his mess rather than bail him out even though Vic and I both knew it had been good for him.
But knowing it and liking it were two different things.
“All right, big brother, what exactly do you have to offer me?” I asked, cocking my eyebrow at him. “Dealing cards in some back alley game? Mixing drinks until two a.m.?”
He grimaced at the last one. “Well...”
“I can’t.”
I secured one braid and got to work on the other. Without saying anything else, I finished the second braid, and then dropped down onto the metal chair across from him and took his hand in both of mine. His big paw dwarfed my smaller ones. He was the tallest of all my brothers, towering over me by a foot.
“Vic, I love you, and thanks for trying, but I can’t pull those hours, finish up with school, and stay sane enough to help other people with their problems.” I knew it had only been because of Doc Schumacher's kindness that I was able to get this far this fast. If I'd needed to get a different job, it would've taken me even longer to make it to this point.
Vic looked away, his face going a dull, ruddy red. He wanted to help so bad and I knew why.
Everybody had expected me to go off to Yale on a full ride.
I had expected it.
Then Vic had gotten into trouble, right as I'd been applying for scholarships. He’d gotten in trouble in the worst kind of way – hitting national news and everything.
What he’d done shouldn’t have affected me.
I was smart. No bones about it, I was fricking brilliant. I had graduated from high school at sixteen and, thanks to advanced placement courses, already had a good portion of pre-requisites under my belt. I'd already been accepted to Stanford to pursue my BA, and then on to my Masters before pursuing my Ph.D. But then the deadline for financial aid had passed and ... nothing.
So I stayed home.
At first, I told everyone that it just made more sense for me to stay and finish up my BA rather than worrying about transferring credits. I needed to be around my family during the trial anyway. Mom had needed me too. When I'd started on my Masters, no one bothered asking why I hadn't moved away.
The sound of my phone whistling at me interrupted my heavy brood marathon. I jolted and looked down to see that yet another brother was calling to check up on me. The oldest this time.
I blew out a breath.
Six months. That’s all I had needed.
“Hey, Deacon.”
Deacon was the opposite of Vic in every way. Grounded and steady, my oldest brother was following in my dad’s footsteps and he took the job seriously. Too seriously, and I didn't just mean he was a damn good electrician. He also seemed to think he was there to watch out for me, like I was still some skinny, brainy little eleven year-old, heading into middle school without him there to look out for me.
“I think I might have a line on a job for you,” Deacon said without preamble.
Rolling my eyes, I said, “It’s sooooo wonderful to hear from you too. Yeah, I’m here with Vic, but it’s a great time to talk and tell me how to live my life.”
Across from me, Vic was laughing and I glared at him. Vic may have been the screw-up, but I was the baby...and none of my brothers ever let me forget it.
I could practically hear him smirking.
“Okay, brat. How are you?”
“Lousy,” I countered. “How's the family?”
Deacon had married the girl he’d fallen for in tenth grade. They'd gotten engaged after she graduated from high school and had gotten married six months after that. Their fifteenth anniversary loomed in front of them, as well as the first birthday of their fifth, and last, child. Beth had made it very clear that this one would be the last or she'd be giving Deacon a vasectomy herself. Without anesthetic.
“Let’s not discuss that.” Some strain came through my brother’s voice.
“What’s wrong?”
I could practically hear the mental debate and finally, he sighed. “Hell, we think Emma has chicken pox. There’s a girl at the daycare…I don’t know the whole story, but somehow she got in without getting vaccinated, and now Emma has it.”
“Oh, no.” Mentally, I was crossing my fingers and hoping, but Beth was a nurse. She knew what chicken pox looked like. I wanted to tell my brother not to worry, but I remembered what it had been like to have chicken pox as a kid and two year-old Emma was going to be climbing the walls. “Keep me updated.”
“I will. Anyway…the job.”
I couldn’t even talk my way out of whatever he had to say now. He was stubborn like that. “Okay, what is it?”
I behaved myself while he was talking and waited until he fell silent before I spoke. “This is Deacon Gallagher, right? Old man? Dark brown hair?” I glanced at Vic, who appeared to be waiting for me to share. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“Toni, be reasonable.”
At least he didn't scold me for swearing like he'd done when I was younger. Eleven years older than me, he'd taken it upon himself to be another parent pretty much since moment one.
“It’s a job and your hours are negotiable with your boss. You're matched by hours available and your personality.” He paused and then added, “Okay, keeping that in mind, you’re in trouble.”
“Very funny, asshat,” I said darkly. “You’re screwing with me. A personal assistant? I’m going to school to be a psychiatrist, not a secretary.”
Deacon’s voice hardened. “Our mom's a secretary, Toni. Remember?”
He didn’t have to point that out for me to feel bad. I wanted to kick myself the second the words left my mouth. “I know that.” Self-conscious, I glanced over at Vic. He gave me a sympathetic look, but it didn’t help.
“Look, Toni. You know what Mom and Dad always told us. There’s no shame in any kind of honest work. And it's not like it'd be forever. Just until you finish your degree. That does still matter to you, right?”
Nothing else he said could have made me go.
Absolutely nothing.
***
The gleaming of Winter Enterprises made me think of a penis. I couldn't help it. I was the youngest of four brothers and they were guys to the nth degree. Everything was a penis metaphor to them, even if it wasn't. They'd been overprotective, but that hadn't kept them from talking like typical guys around me.
I actually felt a little bad about thinking that way about Winter Enterprises. While they'd been involved in charities since they were founded by Dominic Snow a few years ago, he'd recently announced that he'd founded In From the Cold to help find people who'd been victims of, or involved with, human trafficking. The foundation had gotten a lot of extra press recently due to the scandal of some high society woman who'd gotten arrested for conspiring to blackmail Snow and his fiancé. Considering his fiancé was a small town girl who'd become his assistant and was now wearing his ring, it had been like Christmas for the media.
Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, I moved forward. All the people milling around made my nerves jack up even more and that just irritated me even more. I didn't like being nervous. Ask me to organize and keep track of the workings of an entire doctor's office, I'm fine. Put me in the middle of my brothers and their crazy friends, no problem. Professionally and with my family, I was a rock, but this crowded job fair was turning me into a five foot, twenty-four year-old ball of nerves.
Taking a deep breath, I made my way inside and looked around, taking a minute to acclimate. Early in life, I’d learned to deal with being thrown into situations where I wasn't comfortable. One of the many joys of having always been smart.
Lines for registering, lines to get sorted…
What a fucking mess.
I took another look over some of the groups clustered around, and had the sinking sensation I’d have to tell my brother that this just wasn’t going to work out. These were so not my kind of people.
Many of them were dressed to the nines in designer names and expensive haircuts. And then there was me, with my cute sundress and chic little shrug draped over my arm. I had a file and my iPad, while others carried giant briefcases and padfolios likely stuffed with impressive resumes.
“Something of a zoo, isn’t it?”
The quiet voice came from next to me and I glanced up to see a stocky, pleasant-looking man standing next to me. With his salt-and-pepper hair, I put his age in the early forties. “I’d say that sums it up.” I couldn't help but add, “I see mostly herd animals, very few standing out from the pack.”
That elicited a chuckle, his dark blue eyes sparkling.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what position are you applying for?”
I took a closer look at him and realized with a start that he was an employee here. Not that he wore a nametag. This place probably stopped with the nametags outside the lobby.
“Personal assistant,” I said slowly. I shifted toward him, using the movement to tuck my single file folder behind my back. I was really starting to think this was a bad idea.
“Exclusive.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded. Exclusive was the name Winter Enterprises had given to the new service offering to match up personal assistants with the New York elite. Again, I told myself I was an idiot. This so wasn’t the job for me. What did I know about helping out the jet set?
What did I care about the jet set?
“May I?” He held out a hand, clearly waiting for the file I’d stowed behind me.
Reluctant, I turned over the file. He opened and skimmed it, but I had the feeling he was more interested in me than in what a couple of papers had to say. “What would you do if your employer received a call that they were being investigated by the IRS for tax fraud?”
“Call their accountant,” I responded without even thinking. What did I know about their taxes? “And probably whatever lawyer they have on retainer for that sort of thing,” I added after a moment. If they were rich enough to use a service like this, then they probably had a lawyer.
He flicked me a look over the edge of the file, but I couldn't read it.
“Your client asks you to pick up someone at the airport and to make sure that their luggage bypasses security. Would you ask questions?”
Frowning, I held his gaze. This was a loaded question. I could already tell. Finally, I shrugged and said, “I would tell my client that, while I don't need to know what's in the luggage, I wouldn't be comfortable bending the law. If the client insisted, I would hand in my notice. I don’t want to work for criminals.”
He nodded and held out a hand. “I’m Robson Findley. Come on. I’ll finish your interview myself.”
***
It was the quickest and weirdest interview of my life. Instead of asking me about my previous experience, he hammered me with more odd questions.
It’s your off night and you get called to order some flowers and candy sent to an unknown address. What do you do?
You’re meeting a friend for your employer and the friend hits on you. Do you tell your employer?
You’re visiting your employer and you hear some unusual noises coming from one of the rooms. What do you do?
It didn't take me long to realize that this wasn't going to work. I didn't interrupt though. I wanted to be able to tell Deacon I at least gave it a fair shot. I waited until there was a gap and then rose. “Mr. Findlay, I really appreciate the opportunity, but I don’t think this job would be right for me.”
“Yes?” He cocked his head, eyes shrewd, but not annoyed. “Just why is that?”
I didn’t have an exact reason I could give, and in a moment of utter desperation and stupidity, I blurted out, “I don’t like rich people.”
It sounded offensive enough that I assumed I'd be thrown out on my ass as soon as he called security. I lifted my chin, crossed my arms over my chest, and waited.
To my surprise, Findlay laughed. He dropped down into the chair behind his desk, tipped back his head and actually laughed. A few moments passed before he stopped, but when he looked at me, his eyes were still glinting with mirth. “Can I be blunt with you for a moment?”
I stared at him.
“Sometimes, I don't like them much either.”
The moment he said it, he blinked, almost as if startled he’d actually said it.
It was a look I was familiar with. I was always having people tell me things they wouldn't have told anyone else. I'd been told I have one of those faces. It’s not really all that great.
He cleared his throat and began shuffling papers on his desk. “As I was saying…”
He hadn’t been saying anything, but I didn’t call him on the lie, just watched as he regained his composure.
“I think you’re going to work out rather well, Ms. Gallagher. Assuming we find you the right match. And while I still need you to fill out the forms, I already have a couple of ideas for good matches.”
Hesitant, I eyed the forms. I still had some serious misgivings about this.
“Perhaps you should have an idea what it pays,” he said with a smile.
The figure he named made my jaw drop.
Hello college tuition.
Chapter 2
Toni
Fifth Avenue.
What the hell was I doing on Fifth Avenue?
Especially this part of Fifth Avenue.
Smoothing a hand down the trim black pants I’d selected to wear, I approached the door and tried not to look like I was hesitating. There was no doorman. That might have struck me as odd, except this massive building wasn’t some collection of ultra-cool, ultra-expensive condos.
It was one, ginormous family home.
I couldn’t even fathom how many millions of dollars a family home on Fifth Avenue must have cost. The buzz of traffic around here was noticeably less, and as I drew closer to the house, some lady decked all in white sailed by with her dog on a pink leash. There was a sparkle at its neck and I had the insane idea that the sparkle might be from diamonds. Real diamonds. But that couldn't be possible, could it?
My skin started to prickle. I looked up at the ditz who put the diamonds on a dog and found her sending me a sidelong look. When she caught me eying her, her nostrils flared as if she’d smelled something bad, and she whipped her head around.
Wow.
Mentally bracing myself, I marched up the steps between two stately lion statues and knocked.
I’d been paired with a woman by the name of Isadora Lang. I supposed if I paid more attention to the society pages, I would've known the name, but all I had was what Mr. Findley sent me yesterday afternoon.
Isadora was twenty years old and needing help a few days a week – my choice of days – to help her keep her life organized. She hadn't requested any off-hours availability or included a list of crazy demands. It really sounded like a dream job.
But I had a sinking feeling I was about to endure the same sort of treatment I’d received from the ditzy dog owner.
The door swung open and I flashed the suit-clad gentleman my best smile. He was wearing a suit that probably cost more than two months' rent and looked to be in his mid to late fifties.
“Hello. I’m Toni—”
A woman's voice interrupted me.
“Please tell me that’s her, Doug! I can’t figure out this damn newsletter!” She sounded nearly frantic, but not obnoxious.
The suited man gave me a pained look. “Are you with Exclusive?”
“I am.”
A moment later, a tall, curvy woman came bursting out from somewhere behind him. She had stylish black curls, large olive green eyes, porcelain skin, and an elegant, beautiful face. Absolutely gorgeous.
“In, now,” she said as she reached around the man and grabbed my wrist. I stared at her, shocked into silence as she pulled me into the house. “Thank God you're here. If I don’t get this straightened out, I’m doomed.”
Once I was inside, she let my hand go and turned to beam at the man in the black suit. “You can shut the door now, Doug,” she said, giving him the sweetest genuine smile I'd ever seen. “My new assistant and I have a lot of work to do.”
My head was spinning. I didn't think I’d ever seen anybody smile that brilliantly and mean it. When she turned that megawatt smile on me, I felt almost a little dazzled. Heaven help any man who found themselves in her sights.
“Ma'am – uh, I mean, Miss?”
“Call me Isadora, please. Just as Doug here. I don't like the whole 'Miss' thing.”
“All right.” I nodded, starting to find my footing. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”
Her smile turned a little sheepish and she bit her lower lip. “I have to admit, Toni…it is Toni, right? I’m hopeless. I thought I could figure out this whole newsletter thing, but…” She spread her hands out wide and shrugged, her expression making her look less like a beautiful young woman and more like a wide-eyed, innocent child.
“You want a newsletter.”
“No,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t want it. I need it. I told the committee I could do it. I’m good on computers, and I didn’t think it would be that hard.”
Despite myself, I was starting to like her. Sure, I couldn't imagine what was so difficult about making a newsletter, but she didn't seem like she was above it. Just clueless.
“So what’s the newsletter for?” I asked with a smile.
“Rich assholes.”
She delivered the answer without blinking an eye.
Behind me, Doug, in his perfect black suit, smothered a laugh and pretended it was a cough before hurrying away.
“You know what?” I gave her my own version of a brilliant smile. “I think we should start from the top.”
***
She’d led me into a large, airy sitting room.
There was no way I could call it a living room. It was too elegant, too posh, for that. The walls were a pale, soft yellow with the trim painted a gleaming white. In the middle of the room stood a low, round table that gleamed like gold. In the precise middle of that table, there was a vase of the most beautiful white roses I’d ever seen in my life, each petal perfection.
I'd always had a weakness for white roses.
There were any number of small chairs and couches scattered throughout the large, airy room, but Isadora had guided me to a round, fat chair, practically the size of a small pond, and big enough for both of us. Probably two more. A fifth if we wanted to snuggle.
That had been two hours ago and I was still sitting in that chair, comparing the list she’d given me with the newsletter I was compiling. The last one had indeed been for rich assholes. Even I'd recognized those names.
This one seemed to be geared toward the opposite. Wary single moms loathe to accept anything from anybody.
I finished that one up just as she managed to compile a somewhat neat stack of information. I looked at it with a combination of trepidation and chagrin.
“I think what you need,” I said suddenly. “Is to learn how to say no.”
Immediately, I realized I probably shouldn't have said it. What if she was touchy and took it as judgmental? What if she was whiny?
But Isadora threw back her head and laughed. “I know, right? It’s always somebody needs to do it and nobody else wants to say yes.”
Looking away from that engaging smile, I focused on the notes in front of me. Handwritten notes, printed interviews, discs with yet more information, graphs, articles, pictures and a dozen other things that needed to be included in a dozen other newsletters.
Over the past few hours, I’d learned enough to realize I needed to stop making snap judgments. It was a flaw of mine. A flaw I hated in others, but there I was, doing it far too often.
It was sad.
I generally only did it with people like Isadora, the privileged and wealthy. My own kind of people, I gave the benefit of the doubt.
Isadora spoke up, interrupting my mental reverie. “What time did you say the first newsletter would go out?”
“About one this afternoon.”
All in all, that one had been the easiest to do. Cleverly and cleanly written, the author poked fun at more than a few of the well-known families here in the city.
Arching an eyebrow at her, I smiled. “You afraid we’re going to get mobbed? These streets are quiet. You’ll hear them coming long before they get here.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, one of them lives here.”
“Oh?” I gave her a questioning look. Mr. Findley hadn't said anything about a husband.
“Yep. My brother.”
She slid her legs off her side of the chair and rose, arching her arms back high over her head and stretching. It brought her shirt up over her belly, revealing a flat stomach with skin the right kind of pale. I was the other kind of pale, the kind that came with my red hair. My brothers used to say I could cause traffic accidents if I left too much skin exposed. I didn't even freckle in the sun. I just went all lobster crispy.
Then I processed what she said. “That could get…interesting.” If her brother was anything like mine, I could only imagine how he'd take it. “What do your folks think about this?”
For the first time, her bright smile dimmed. “They’re gone,” she said softly.
She moved from the couch to stand in front of the fireplace with its candle-scape insert in the hearth and the pictures that dotted the mantle. She took one down and turned, displaying it in front of her. It revealed a pretty little girl, a handsome young man who looked to be in his late teens. There were two adults, each of them looking to be in their mid-forties. All of them looked happy.
“They died in a car wreck when I was seven. This picture was taken just a couple of months before it happened.” She turned it back to her, lifting it to trace their faces with her hand. “My brother raised me. I barely remember them.”
I went to apologize, to say something. I didn’t even know what. I couldn't imagine my life without either of my parents, much less having lost both of them at the same time, and as a child.
Before I could figure out what I should say, she put the picture down and clapped her hands. “Hey, you know what? I’m starving. You wanna order some pizza?”
***
I'd decided this job could work.
I also thought I might even grow to like the somewhat ditzy, but decidedly adorable Isadora.
She was smart as hell, but couldn’t focus worth a damn. I found myself psychoanalyzing her all the time and asking strange little questions that were just a little too nosy, but I couldn’t stop myself. She was fascinating.
She didn’t seem to notice or care, and I was trying to work up the courage to ask yet more questions when we heard a door slam and loud male voices followed.
“Mr. Lang!”
“Okay, Doug. Who the fuck is this Toni person my sister hired? I thought I hired you all to watch over her, not let her bring strange guys into the house.”
“Guys?” I mouthed to Isadora.
But she didn’t notice. She had her face buried in her hands and was shaking her head, though I couldn't tell if she was upset or trying not to laugh.
A shadow appeared in the doorway and I instinctively stood. She caught my hand and looked up at me with a pleading expression on her face.
“Please don’t let him scare you off.”
Scare me off? I snorted. As if. I squeezed Isadora’s hand.
“I’m fine,” I assured her.
Then I turned towards the door and met the hard green eyes of a man who was seriously, seriously beautiful. His hair was the sort of black that would almost look blue in some light, and he had the sort of features that made heads turn.
He was also staring at me as though I was something he’d found on the bottom of his shoe. No amount of good looks could make up for that.
