Chapter 1 – Amanda
“I’ll have a water,” Iinstructed the waiter. “We’ll make a wine selection when the other member of my party is here.”
The wordboyfriendwouldn’t roll off my tongue.
“Very good, ma’am,” the waiter intoned. He went to move but faltered. It was the slightest misstep. I wouldn’t have seen it if I wasn’t looking. But I was.
Following his gaze, I noticed the energy of the room had shifted. There was a subtle stillness I’d learned to recognize in boardrooms. The moment when someone powerful entered without an announcement.
The waiter shook himself and scuttled away.
My focus, however, was snagged by the group of men in crisp, dark suits. The luxurious tailoring draped over their hard, brutally cut bodies. They painted a picture of wealth and power. And something else. Something familiar. Maybe it was the way they carried themselves. Or the predatory look in their eyes, always assessing for a threat. Whatever it was, it simmered under the surface.
I watched them weave through the restaurant, going to the back and ghosting into a private dining room. From where I sat, it was impossible to make out any faces.
Good lord, what would it be like to have clients like those?
Someday. If I worked hard enough. Those were the kind of sharks I wanted to fight for my services.
I rose from my seat as the friendly giant approached. “Steven! How was your flight?”
Dressed in a soft navy suit, Steven didn’t look like he ran a trillion-dollar energy company. His own energy was naturally laid back, as if he were ready to go to the yacht club, not the boardroom. That creamy blond hair was perfectly gelled andstyled, and he’d grown a thin mustache over his upper lip since the last time I’d seen him.
He chuckled and pulled me in for a hug. “Abysmal.”
If my body was stiff and rigid against him, he didn’t mention it. I took a deep breath, forcing my muscles to relax. The scent of citrus and sunlight helped, but only a little.
His blue eyes glittered as he pulled back. That cultured British accent made my stomach flip as he helped me back into my seat. “Long enough to read that book you recommended.”
I stifled a groan. “I didnotrecommend it.”
We weren’t in a serious enough relationship for me to force my boyfriend to read dark, unhinged books about wolf kings and fae lords. But he’d caught me reading it in the park last month when he’d come to say goodbye to me—again.
From the way he smiled across the table as the tuxedo waiter poured the wine, I asked myself for the millionth time why I wasn’t attracted to him. Having a long-distance boyfriend was certainly a plus, leaving more time for my priorities. Steven was handsome and rich. He didn’t berate me for my long hours at work; he never asked me to tone down my ambition. And my father approved of the relationship, which was the first time Dad showed any interest in my casual partner.
Our time spent together? It was just…blah. When we were around each other every few weeks, Steven didn’t make my insides hum to life, and I didn’t particularly care for his touch.
But Steven was a great guy.
Those were words I would carve on his tombstone.
Well, that’s not morbid as hell.
“I’ve got to say, Amanda, I don’t understand the ‘god bindings.’ They didn’t even have a choice in the matter.” Steven laughed. “But I see how you like a powerful woman who can forge a magical sword.”
“They were meant to be together,” I said lamely, not wanting to discuss that concept any further. “It’s just a silly story. Tell me about the MirPhlax Merger.”
Steven rubbed the thin landing strip on his upper lip. “See. It’s always work with you. And yet you read such strange books.”
I didn’t understand the appeal of my comfort reads either. I should be reading business books, growing my knowledge base, and staying abreast of the latesttrends. But I found myself craving escape and something…darker. An idea I wouldn’t let myself voice. Corporate girls like me, who worked in the world of sharks, didn’t admit that we wanted to be at the mercy of a powerful being. Of surrendering to a shadow daddy.
“There’s been a delay in the merger,” Steven said, and the edge in his voice had me sitting up straighter. “They gave our family a six-week extension.”
As he spoke, the back of my neck tingled. I swept a look around the restaurant. La Petite was packed, but the hushed tones of the businessmen dining, the socialites catching dinner before the club, or the couples having a romantic evening weren’t loud enough to eclipse the strains of jazz music floating above us. There was nothing out of the ordinary, just the typical crème de la crème of Manhattan enjoying one of the most exclusive dining spots in the city. Even a high-caliber lawyer like myself couldn’t get a table at this place. That was one of the perks of dating a legacy like Steven. Dropping his name ensured we had a table despite the two-month waitlist.
Sliding a look to the back, I suppressed a shiver. The private dining room door was still closed. The sharks hadn’t emerged. But I felt their presence. I longed to go. To join them. Whatever high-stakes business was going down behind that door called to me. There was nothing easy, nothing safe about the idea of their business.
Silly, you haven’t earned a spot there. Not yet.
