She doesn't respond, but her already pink cheeks turn an alarming shade of red.
“I'm not angry with you,” I say softly, checking her badge. “Tamara. Why would I be? I left him.”
Her face burns brighter, and she winces, as if warring between humor and pity.
“Oh.” My stomach drops as the humiliating realization dawns on me. I've been a fool. “It's been going on longer than I thought, hasn’t it? Of course it has.”
“Can I leave him a message for you?” The forced professionalism in her voice makes me cringe.
“I'm sorry for you, honestly,” I say, although I should keep my mouth shut. “You have no idea what's in store for you once the shine wears off.”
She scoffs, the former embarrassment I registered turning on a dime toward anger. My coat hangs open and her gaze drifts judgmentally over the beige cardigan set and pearl necklace I’m wearing. “I think I might have a few more years of shine left than you.”
The comment hits me like a fist to the gut. I’m only twenty-five and only wore this outfit because it’s Tony's favorite, the same reason I've pulled my bleached hair back at the base of my skull. He always insisted I dress like this, and I thought it would improve my odds of getting what I want from him if my appearance pleased him. But as I look at Tamara, a deep pit opens in my chest like an ice cream scooper has scraped out my heart. She is what Tony wanted all along —the blond hair, the big boobs. Her cerulean-colored wrap dress accentuates every curve. He’d never have allowed me to wear what she’s wearing.It’s confusing, and another punch to the gut, even if Tony isn’t doing the punching this time.
I clench my eyes shut and just breathe. No way am I going to cry in front of this woman, not over a man like Tony. When I open them again, I look down at my hands rather than at her, see my watch, and remember why I’m here.
“Sunset.” I curse under my breath.
“Excuse me?”
“I'll show myself back.” I ignore her protests and race-walk down the hall directly to Tony's office. His door is open, and his jacket is on the back of his chair, but he’s gone. The darkness outside his window offers a stunning view of the Richmond skyline. Oh hell, am I too late?
“It's better if you're not here when it happens,” a deep voice rumbles from the shadows, and all the tiny hairs on my body stand at attention. It’s like I’ve touched a live wire. My pulse quickens with my breath and I’m as aware of the advocate’s presence as I would a lion walking into the room. I pivot to find him standing in the shadow of the door, his silver eyes the only thing visible until he steps into the light. Damn, he’s wearing a suit tonight in a shade of navy that brings out the blue tinge in his pale eyes. It’s stunning. Thickness forms in my throat and I can’t find my voice.
But then I don’t have to. Tamara bursts in, her finger pointing in my direction. “Leave now, or I'm calling secur—Oh, hello.” Her voice softens the moment she sees the advocate, and she flashes a warm smile, her lashes fluttering. “I don't recall checking you in.”
He steps closer to her, locking eyes. “You will go back to your desk now and forget either of us is here.”
Tamara's face slackens, her expression distant as if hermind has wandered off. “Right. I need to go.” She chuckles, glancing around the room as if she can't remember why she’s come in. With a flip of her blond hair, she strolls from the room and heads in the direction of the front desk.
“That's a neat trick,” I mumble.
He whirls on me, gripping my shoulders hard enough that I can’t forget what he is. This is the monster I called, the one who drinks blood and is sewn together from shadows. He brings his face close to mine, his nostrils flaring.
“Leave now, little bird, or it will be difficult to separate you from what I have to do. The longer you’re here, the harder it will be for me to conceal that fact.”
Conceal as in wipe minds like he did to Tamara? Tamper with the security cameras? What exactly is the advocate capable of?
This close to him, my body tenses in alarm and something else I don’t want to admit. I clamp my thighs together and swallow repeatedly to get my voice to work. When I do, it comes out wispy and trembling. I pull away, putting room between us. “There's been a mistake. I don't want you to kill Tony.”
He glares, his lips peeling back from his teeth. “You don't?—”
“What the fuck?” Tony strides into his office, adjusting the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt before sinking into the chair behind the desk. His bushy brown brows pinch above an aquiline nose and thin, sneering lips. He pointedly looks at his gold watch. “You need to leave, Eloise. I have work.”
“We need to talk about the house.” I shove my hands into the pockets of my coat and toy with the candle. “You know what's going on with Grams. I can't let you have Harcourt. It's wrong,and you know it.”
Tony's eyes lock on to the man beside me. “Who the hell is this?”
If he only knew. I glance at the advocate, who appears even more menacing than before, and realize I still don't know his name. “He's my… counsel.”
Tony scoffs. “Is everyone at that firm of Maeve's a damned freak?”
A low growl, almost imperceptible, rumbles from the advocate's chest.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask. “You have everything. Leave me my family home.”
Tony leans back in his leather chair, hands threading over his abdomen, and lifts his chin to peer down his nose at me. “Half the value of that property is rightfully mine. Pay me my portion, and I'll move on. It's as simple as that.” His lips twist into a demeaning smile. “Oh, that's right, you can't. You have no assets but the property itself, and even if you could secure a mortgage on the house, it wouldn't cover my half.”
