He’s strong.
And a vampire.
“Ash might surprise you, little deer. He’s very observant. Careful. Understands what his smile does to you. How it makes your heart race. Such a clever, boy. I was a quiet baby, apparently. Max was the handful at this age.”
My heart balloons.
“Ooh,tell me more.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
clay
My intercom crackles,and Que’s polite voice slides through the speaker. "You have company, Boss."
I was not expecting company, given that my sweet girl is cake tasting today with Bronson and Cassidy. “Who?”
“Lorna, Boss.”
I set the silver letter opener down on my desk. Reclining in the chair, I relax backwards, looking out at the afternoon sky. Once, it was merely sky. Now, it is the same blue as her engagement ring, a matching hue to her right eye, the primary colour of the linen my sons were first swaddled in. Even the heavens, ancient and common, now remind me of my sweet girl and all she has given me.
Christ.
I am a man obsessed.
I answer through the desk speaker, "Let her in."
Soon, stilettos tap-tap against marble and wood. My little deer is always barefoot. It’s an unpleasant sound, the clipping, the confidence in each tap, tap, tap, jarring.
Lorna enters my office, stopping before a red wine stainon the carpet, her eyes glazing with melancholy. "You still haven’t replaced the carpet.”
“I will,” I confirm.
My curt response sets her jaw into a tight line. Her crimson lips part only to take a deep breath, flashing teeth as white as bone, as immaculate as her skin. I used to enjoy the feel of that skin once, beneath me, over me. Now, I can’t imagine wanting anyone other than my fiancé.
“I’m surprised to see you,” I admit, tone even, standing and circling my desk, pulling a chair out for her on the opposite side of the wood. “Please.” I nod at the chair. “Sit.”
“Ever the gentleman.”
“Manners are a rarity.”
She sinks into the leather chair, flattening wrinkles from her pencil skirt before crossing her thighs. She used to be comfortable in my space, but now she sits like a tension-rope—hiding something from me. Mimes of body language are something Jimmy Storm taught me. When a person relaxes, they breathe easily, move smoothly, and happily level their gaze across rooms and companions. Lorna is nervous.
"I am here for Aurora,” she clarifies. Quick. Sharp. A closing gate over her heart. “She would want me to continue to look after you in this way. Using my connections and the newspaper to keep you informed. I do this for her. Not you.”
Interesting.“I accept that.”
Her manicured fingers touch the strand of pearls at her throat, a gift from me from many years ago. A pointless attempt to remind me of our time together.
"Go on." I lean back, lifting my ankle to my knee.
"I stumbled upon something yesterday.”
“Yes,” I press.
She lifts her chin as she says, “While I was going throughFawn's files in the District Media database. We also have access to closed cases, as you know.”
At the sound of my sweet girl’s name, my Butcher blood simmers, though outwardly, I don’t so much as flinch.
