I’m sure my hair looks like a bird’s nest, but I don’t care. I run my fingers through it and hustle to the doorway. There’s a remote hooked to the wall. I hit the button for the blinds and they lift, revealing bright sunshine. So at least that’s something. I didn’t sleep the entire day.
I need to find Kieren—Mr. Alder. And apologize. Also, figure out what I overheard last night. It’s nice being called smart, but only if you can piece things together. Obviously, I know they’re dragon shifters. It’s not hard to put that together. Cloud Rift plus dragons or dragon-like animals on most decorative surfaces, and then there’s the wholewe collect a lot of art but never sell itaspect. I had already gathered that they were some sort of shifters before I got on the plane. Then the rideshare driver kicking me to the curb...
I’m down the hallway when I remember that if I’m going to find my phone, my grandmother’s cute little watch isn’t going to be much help. I’m going to need the one that connects to my phone. I do an about-face and head back to the baby blue room. I need to get it from my electronics bag in my suitcase that I pushed into the closet yesterday.
My jaw drops. My clothes have been hung up. No, not just hung up but ironed too. I pick up the black linen shirt that Wren’s best friend gave me because she hated ironing it. It’s free of wrinkles with only the lightest starch.
My electronics are spaced out nicely on the dresser. My smartwatch is plugged in and charged, something I continually forget to do. It’s really nice. Thoughtful.
But then I realize that someone not only brought me uphere without me realizing it, they also snuck into my room. Which turns the thrill of having ironed clothes somewhat sour. I quickly page through the rest of my clothes and keep going when I get to the ones that were here before. Because the fancy blue clothes aren’t gone, they’re just pushed to the back of the closet. I move, take a step back. Yup, they’re all there.
I run my hand along the top rail, and when I get to the back of the closet, there’s a latch. The panel isn’t a panel; it’s a door. I open it and stick my head into what’s not the darkened hidden passage I imagined. Instead, the walls are stone, but there are lights above and not a speck of dust or a cobweb to be seen. There’s a light next to my door inside the hallway. I flip the latch on the door into the locked position, and it turns red. Offset from my door across the hall, there’s another one just like it. I’m tempted to open the other door, but I need to get downstairs.
I lock the not-so-secret door. I’m thankful for my clothes being pressed, but I’ll sleep better knowing I’m not being watched. Every horror movie I’ve ever watched plays in my head. There are no cameras in here, right? Hot billionaire dragon shifters don’t have to capture women and hold them hostage in their castle while they watch them with cameras...but I’ll look for them later.
I’m down the stairs into the atrium a minute later. Phone first. I need to find where I left it. I make my way into the dining room, thinking maybe it’s still in there. Or maybe it was cleared away when they set up for lunch? But nothing. It’s fine. I’ll find it later.
I poke my head into the butler’s pantry and the kitchen, but they’re both empty, although there’s evidence that someone was in the kitchen not that long ago. The sink’s wet, and the stove radiates heat as I pass it.
I leave the way I came in. I’m not ready to go off exploring on my own. Not when I need to track down someone to show me where I’m supposed to be working. I give the curtain I’m not supposed to look behind a wide berth and make my way over to Kieren’s office. I part the curtains, and the door behind them is open. The window too. A cool breeze blows in, ruffling paper on the desk.
In the corner of the room on a leather sofa, Evander’s lying on his back. His shirt’s unbuttoned three buttons. His feet are crossed over the edge of the armrest––his black shoes reflecting the standing lamp next to the sofa. He even naps with style. Like someone is going to show up from the Wall Street Journal to do a photo shoot and exposé. A zap of attraction zips through my body.
I step back and give myself a moment to collect my thoughts. Having lustful thoughts for Evander isn’t the way to do my job.Get it together Raine, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.I lean back in to knock on the wood of the door.
“It’s a good day to take a nap. Seems like everyone’s doing it. That’s not a dig on you. I was enjoying a few minutes of downtime. You’ve come for the papers. Excellent.” He pops upright, and his shirt hangs open. His eyes hold mine for a second before his fingers nimbly cover up his six-pack.
“Yes, and to finish the tour so I can get started.”
“You certainly are anxious.”
“That’s why I’m here, right? How could I not be anxious?” My gaze flicks from him to the water lilies. Evander’s a very attractive man, so attractive that Monet’s water lilies are probably the only thing that could distract me from him.
“I didn’t start off trying to nap. I was staring at the Monet. Kieren and I spent a bit of time talking about it afteryou went off to bed last night.” He tucks his shirt into his designer pants.
“Did you?” I’m playing it cool. There’s no way I want them to ever learn what I overheard.
“Yes.”
“You’re friends?”
“The closest. We met in the academy.”
“High school or military?”
“A bit of both, really.” He laughs and moves to the desk, then fishes out the electronic tablet he had last night. “Ready?”
“If it can get me to the collection faster, most definitely.” But that’s the problem when your dad’s a lawyer: you either have to read every last word of every last page of every document you ever sign, or you end up like Wren—she’d sign anything you ever put in front of her without checking anything about it. Once to prove a point, I gave her a piece of paper to sign while she was filling out her college applications. Put it in front of her and told her to sign it. It was a typed-up contract that had her commit to mowing the lawn and washing all the dishes the whole summer before she started college in the fall. She still doesn’t read anything she signs. “Mind if I sit?”
“Be my guest.”
I take the pad and move over to where he was reclining on the leather sofa. I’ve never signed an NDA before. The first few pages seem to go on in normal legal fashion. There are two copies of the document, one in English and one in French. But I’m only signing the English version.
Somewhere around page twenty of what I thought was going to be a simple document, it gets weird. “You have the right to search my room and phone at any time?”
“Intellectual property. You’ll see that portion expires when the contract is terminated.”
I nod. I suppose he has a point. My heart’s churning at a rapid-fire rate by the time I finish reading the entire document and sign.
