“Mom.” Mycah briefly met his gaze, and he caught a flash of emotion that on anyone else he would’ve labeled concern. But that couldn’t be right. Why the hell would she be worried about him? “What are you doing here? At my job?” she asked, an edge in her tone.
Her mother laughed, a delighted, charming sound that grated across his nerves.
“To see my daughter, of course. Is that any way to greet your mother? Your friend will think we’re heathens.” She strode farther into the office, her arms outstretched.
If Achilles hadn’t been studying Mycah so closely, he might not have noticed her hesitation, but he did observe the pause before she crossed the room and briefly embraced her mother, air-kissing both cheeks, then stepping back.
“That’s much better,” her mother admonished, brushing at the shoulder of Mycah’s pale green shirt. “Getting you to return a phone call is a minor miracle, so you left me no other choice but to come hunt you down.” Then, as if remembering Achilles’s presence, she switched her attention to him with a warm smile. “I’m sorry for just barging in and interrupting. I’m Cherise Hill, Mycah’s mother. And you are?”
“Achilles Farrell.”
Recognition glinted in her dark eyes, and unease crept down his spine. Instinct warned that his identity hadn’t come as a surprise to her.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Farrell. You and your family have caused quite a stir these past few months.” She approached him, her arm extended.
His chest tightened, everything in him repelling at the idea of grasping that hand, but despite the rumors circulating about his nature, he did have manners.
Enveloping her hand in his, he lightly squeezed it, then released her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hill.”
“Hmm.”
She studied him, and manners or not, he returned the favor. He knew her type, had come in contact with it even before arriving in Boston. If she expected him to cower and fidget underneath that analyzing, patronizing inspection, well, life was full of disappointments. The days when he bent for any man or woman were long gone.
“Mom, I’m sorry you had to come all the way downtown. But what is it that you needed?” Mycah pressed, drawing Cherise Hill’s focus away from him and back to her.
Why did he get the sense that she had that maneuver down to a fine art?
“Well, like I said, if you’d have returned my or your father’s calls, you would’ve known that we are planning a dinner party for a week from tonight.”
“A party,” Mycah repeated, tone flat. She crossed her arms, and Achilles frowned at the gesture that didn’t strike him as annoyed but rather reeked of self-protection.
“Yes, honey, a party.” Flint slid into Cherise’s voice. “And consider this your official invite. And you, too, Mr. Farrell.” She whipped around, aiming another of those hostess smiles his way, the warmth of it belied by the hint of frost in her gaze. “We would absolutely love if you joined us.”
“Mom—”
“Thank you. I accept.”
The words leaped out of him before he could cage them or consider the ramifications. But he didn’t rescind them. Even when he noted the flicker of satisfaction in Cherise’s eyes.
Even when he caught the glint of disquiet in Mycah’s.
A glutton.
He was most definitely a glutton for punishment.
Eight
Pride goeth before a fall.
Jesus, how many times had Achilles heard that from his grandmother while growing up? And she’d immediately followed it up with “Don’t be like your mother.”
Achilles snorted. God knows Natia Lee had enough pride to have a few proverbs written about her. And he’d adored that about her.
Sighing, he nodded a thanks to the driver, who’d opened the back door of the sleek black Lincoln town car. Another amenity Cain had insisted Achilles accept. This one he didn’t mind having so much as the others. The drivers in Boston were another level of crazy. And he didn’t relish taking his life in his hands by getting behind the wheel among them.
“Thanks, Dave. If I don’t call by ten, assume they have me trapped in the Sunken Place and send in reinforcements.”
Dave snorted, closing the door behind him. “Will do. In the meantime, try not to scowl too much and remember bathrooms are for pissing, not the carpets.”
