A knot formed in my throat. I wanted to lie, to beg, to insist. But we both knew my answer. I couldn’t even imagine that kind of freedom. “Yes.” My voice cracked. “I would.”
Looking back now, the words we shared that day take on a whole new meaning.
“Emma?” Aubrey’s voice pulls me back to the small sitting room, and my eyes find her standing in the open doorway. “I said they’re ready for you.”
“Oh.” My response comes out shaky as I stand, my new contacts making me blink rapidly.This is what I wanted, I remind myself.Don’t fuck it up. Spine straight, chin up. I clear my throat. “Thanks.”
Aubrey nods toward the dining room behind her. “You’ll do fine,” she whispers as she starts to steer me past the doorway. “Just remember the contract. Unless you’re like me, do what you can to get claimed.”
The contract. Get claimed.
Deep breaths.
The second my foot crosses the threshold, four male pairs of eyes hit me. My chest rises and falls. My skin feels clammy against the tight dress.
The dining room is dim, enclosed by the black walls I’m becoming accustomed to. It’s lit only by a modest chandelier above the small, rectangular table where the Matthews are seated. I don’t know if it’s the shoddy lighting or the adrenaline suddenly pumping through my veins, but I can’t seem to focus on any one man long enough to make out his appearance.
All I see are frames ofbig,dark, andsuits.
“Matthews,” Aubrey greets them with a nod, “meet Emmy Highland. Your newest secretary.”
For a moment, the room is so still I’m afraid to breathe. My chest is too tight. Their silent, concentrated stares are tiny needles prickling beneath my dress. When another long minute passes and still no one speaks, I flick my gaze to Aubrey, hoping I’m the only one feeling the awkwardness.
Except she isn’t there.
My fingers start to fidget, but I catch myself and clasp my hands together.You show people what they want to see, and they’ll never suspect what’s underneath. Right, Frankie?
A throat clears. The sound is rough and whips my attention to one of the two men seated directly across from me. The other two sit at each head of the table, one to my left and the other to my right.
“Emmy.” The throat-clearer speaks with a strange sort of authority. It’s the kind of voice that trails off, like it has a secret. Like he knows my name better than I do. “Well, aren’t you going to join us?”
It’s not until then that I see the empty chair positioned across from the speaker and the silent man beside him. I force my legs to bring me forward, hoping my movements are fluid despite the unease rolling through me as I slip into my place at the intimate table.
“Ah, much better,” the man drawls. “No use having a beauty like this one under our roof if we can’t even see her.” He winks, nodding toward one of the other men who chuckles.
With the lighting directly above our heads and my pulse settling, I can finally see them clearly.
Since only one man has spoken directly to me, I focus on him first. His face is all sharp angles with a long nose and pronounced cheekbones. His dirty-blond hair, parted mostly on one side, is smooth and long enough to stroke his collar—a very expensive looking collar. I don’t know suits, but his reminds me of wedding attire.
Looks too high maintenance to be my type, but he’s the kind of handsome Frankie would fall right into.
“Excuse my rudeness,” the man says, amusement dripping through his tone. “Allow me to introduce myself.” He stands, and I would have cocked an eyebrow if I wasn’t so on edge. Does he think standing for introductions makes him more of a gentleman? He extends a hand. “Raife Matthews.”
I force a smile I hope is charming as I rise to slide my hand into his. “Nice to meet you, Raife.”
“Aha,” he says, something dark dancing behind his golden-brown eyes, “so she does speak. I was beginning to worry this one was defective.”
Bitterness bites at my tongue, begging to be unleashed. But then, what kind of men did I expect to find in a place like this? Remembering the reason I’m here, I swallow my distaste to humor him. I need to play the part if I’m going to get close enough to these men to figure out their role in Frankie’s disappearance.
My lips curve just a hint, my index finger playfully stroking his palm when he releases my grip. “I do more than just speak.”
A low chuckle slides past his lips as he tilts his head. His eyes narrow. “We’ll see about that.” Before I can respond, he’s gesturing toward the man at the left end of the table, and I lower into my seat. “This is Felix, the brains of us Matthews brothers.”
Brothers.
Raife smirks again, and I swear it’s like he can read my mind. A shiver crawls up my spine at the thought, reminding me to watch every tick of my expression.
Felix holds out a hand, but he doesn’t stand, and I’m glad. At least that’s one less pretense. “Don’t mind Raife here,” he mutters, giving me a lopsided grin while we shake. “Not all of us are creeps.”
