It was just six months.
She’d been through worse for longer.
“Very well.”
A curt nod. “I’ll stomach your perfumes till your contract ends. Then I want you gone.”
Rude beast.“It’s candles, and you don’t have to stomach anything if you don’t visit my shop.”
His black eyes stared at her steadily. “I am your neighbor.”
“You live next door?” The question snapped from her tongue before she could swallow it back.
He inclined his head, the first spark of real amusement glinting in his gaze. “Yes. I do.”
What on earth was happening? What world had she stepped into? She did not want to live next door to a Beast of Brighton! And why show her the slipper at all if he did not suspect her? But would he be speaking with such ease if he were certain? Wouldn’t he have dragged her off to a dungeon already? In all likelihood, he would probably visit all the shops in this neighborhood today to find the owner of that slipper.
“Well, I appreciate you introducing yourself.” That might have been her only luck. Now she could put a face to the local villain. Her gaze swept over his scar again. A dangerous villain. Yet another she would have to escape at some point.
Prince cocked his head at the man, whose lips twitched. “Quite the guardian you have there. Should I feel honored that he’s deemed me worthy of his boredom?”
His mocking tone felt like earth wrapping around the soles of her feet. She ground her teeth, glaring at the man. “He saves canines for the night.”
His gaze seared a path over her body then met her eyes again. The contempt rolling off him was palpable. “The worst monsters walk in daylight, too, Miss Turner.” A shiver traveled down her spine, the faintest hint of menace flaring in his gaze as he assessed her. “I imagine you don’t know much about me, Miss Turner, but I don’t like trouble in my territory. If you keep to your own affairs, I’ll keep to mine.”
“Well, I certainly don’t plan to cross into yours.” Ever. Again.
In fact, she wanted to stay very, very far away.
*
This woman couldn’thold a convincing face if her life depended on it. And she had the kind of face that didn’t belong in Brighton.
Or at least not inhisBrighton.
She was too damndelicate.
And yet, she hadn’t trembled when he loomed, and he had done so deliberately. She hadn’t stuttered when he pushed. She hadn’t folded under his gaze. That unsettled Maxen more than her perfumes ever could. Or candles. Ridiculous.
Even more damn ridiculous, he’d stood in bloodier rooms, faced men who’d slit throats for two coins, sharp blades as smiles. But when her eyes had locked on his, he’d felt unnerved. Peeled back. As though she might glimpse something he’d never dared show another soul, should his guard slip.
The tips of his fingers twitched.
His new tenant was small, slight in frame and graceful in posture. She wore a simple day dress of a pink, though not the bold shade. The softer one. Whatever it was called. Nothing out of the ordinary. But something still struck him as off. She felt wrong for the Lanes. Her golden hair was too golden. Like the sun. Even her voice sounded spun from sunlight. She was running a candle shop for Christ’s sake—sunshine turned to business. She looked like sunlight turned flesh. And for one cursed second, every damn rule he lived by deserted him.
Her green eyes, bright enough to blind. Behind them?
Storms.
Secrets.
She hadn’t so much as flinched when he’d pulled the slipper from his coat. However, he had caught a slight hesitation. Not overt. But enough to set his every instinct on high alert. As a man trained to spot a blade in a glance and a lie in a heartbeat, his senses had detected something but also not a bloody thing.
A first.
And it could mean just about anything under the damn sun.
She might be lying. Might be she didn’t trust him searching for a woman with nothing but a slipper. Might be a possibility he hadn’t considered. Despite that, she met his gaze with chin held high.
