His black hair devoured the light with a shadow’s inkiness, and his cleft chin, his strong nose, and his sharp jawline conveyed a hard, unforgiving face, if not a bit arrogant. Those thick brows formed wicked arches, and his lips pressed into a firm frown, at home with the rest of his features.
When his gaze landed on me, I flinched. The glacial chill in those golden eyes made me want to run on sight alone.
And I’d seen this man before. Never in person, but in the research I’d done.
This was the reclusive Cillian Ashmore.
The wealthy businessman who not only owned the Spires but crushed enemies with little care.
The man who’d be able to tell me what happened to my father.
And he’d come down here.
I didn’t believe in coincidence.
His broad steps trembled the floor he strode upon, and the impulse to run rose fast and fierce. Except my feet were frozen in place. He closed the distance between us, each thunderous step bringing him closer and closer. I couldn’t stop staring, even as he stopped a few feet away, looming well above my height. This close, the scent of brimstone rolled off him as if he’d emerged from the depths of hell.
“When Amelia mentioned the innocent little thing asking around for Hank Taylor, I had to come.” His voice held the force of a semi rumbling down the highway, its echo reverberating off the polished tiles. The hushed silence that had fallen didn’t help either. My whole body trembled to attention at the massive predator who had just entered the room.
Because that was what Cillian Ashmore was. Even the refined suit couldn’t hide the feral gleam in his eyes or the long fangs on display with his lazy grin. I shivered, suddenly feeling like prey who’d been marked.
“I’m not innocent,” I blurted out. Of all the things I could have responded to, I wasn’t sure why that struck me first. However, now I’d set the tone, and I couldn’t back down. I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and stared him in the eye. Except those eyes were stripping me down right in the middle of the casino, as if no one else existed but the two of us.
Cillian’s grin widened, showcasing even more of the wicked arch of his brows. “Well, you’ve got some backbone, I’ll give you that. Not sure if it’ll help you, though.”
“I’m not a fool,” I said, even though I felt wholly like one. “If he went missing here, there must be a reason. I’m not here to storm down the gates, simply to talk.”
And hopefully barter, though with what? This man had unimaginable wealth and people fawning over him left and right. This wasn’t a simple meeting in a diner with my dad’s information guy.
No, this was a meeting with one of the most powerful people in Peregrine City.
He could crush me with his reputation alone and bury me in an undisclosed location where I’d simply vanish.
“Interesting,” he said, scanning me over with a deliberateness that made me want to back away a few paces. His silences communicated more, the sheer power simmering through the room enough that the strike of a match would light it all up.
“Mr. Ashmore, do you want a private room?” Amelia approached, even though she was the only one. “I can prepare one down here.”
“No, we can arrange a meeting upstairs.”
Amelia’s face paled, and my determination faltered. For this calm, cool woman to blanch, it signified everything.
I wouldn’t be leaving the Spires alive.
Self-preservation demanded I run, just bolt toward the doors of this building at top speed, but I hadn’t looked away from Cillian Ashmore. There was a cruel glint in his eyes, as if he’d hunt me down himself—and enjoy it.
A shiver rolled down my spine, darker impulses that would never see the light of day.
“Right,” Amelia said, the lines on her features a bit starker. Clearly reassuring. “Please follow me, Mister…”
“Beau,” I rasped out, my throat dry. “Beau Taylor.”
Her eyes widened, and then if possible, her lips pressed tighter.
“Let’s go,” Cillian said, turning his attention away from me as if I were a mere bug underfoot he was waiting to crush.
Yet the magnetism in his voice somehow tugged me forward, my feet moving of their own volition. I ran my fingers through my curls, the dread growing stronger with every step toward the elevator. I chanced a glance at the information desk behind us, and everyone stared, deadly quiet. Many of them watched as if it was their first glimpse of the man who owned this casino, unlike Amelia, who was clearly seasoned at working by his side.
“Come along,” Amelia said, giving a light tap to my elbow. “Mr. Ashmore doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
