My mouth is already open to complain about the delay, but the words die on my tongue. The sight before me slams the air from my lungs.
It’s not C-name at all.
It’s her.
What the fuck is she doing here?
She’s wearing a pencil skirt that accentuates her hips, with a matching blazer on which is pinned a name tag with the prissy logo of the pretentious hotel and the name Kallista.
Interesting.
So Kallie must be a nickname.
Under the jacket is a fitted white blouse, and where the woman at the front desk wore hers like a costume, Kallie’s looks like it was made for her, cut to her curves and her tanned skin without trying. Her hair is tied up in an elegant, curly ponytail, exposing a long, slender neck. My eyes trail up its length to finally land on her face.
A flash of recognition sparks in her violet gaze—gone in an instant, smoothed over by a professional mask. But I saw it. She knows me.
Fuck. Does she remember me following her? Or is it my voice she recognizes from that frantic phone call the other day? She had almost let that fang fucker inside her apartment.
“You’re not Cecily,” I finally say, like a fucking idiot.
Her brow dips in confusion. “Uh, who?” It seems to dawn on her a second later. “Oh! You mean Celia? No… I’m not her. That’s actually—um,” she pauses to collect herself. “She had an emergency, which resulted in your delay. I apologize. I got here as soon as I could.”
Her gaze dips to my chest and her eyes go comically wide as if she’s seeing what I’m wearing for the first time. Or rather what I’mnotwearing.
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and I can’t help the involuntary flex of my muscles under her stare. I feel the familiar pull of ink on my skin as the runes shift, the old scars tightening around them.
Fucking hell. Now I’m imagining dragging her into the room and finding out exactly how quickly that professional mask breaks.
I cut that line of thinking off immediately. There’s no way to hide a fucking hard on in this fluffy white towel.
The memory of my fuck-up with Stark the other night surfaces—his vague answers, the way he practically snarled when I asked about her. He should have killed me for wasting his time, for asking about a woman instead of my actual target. He didn’t. The two facts feel dangerously connected, and now she’s standing right here.
Suddenly Kallie’s expression shutters, her professional mask slipping back into place. “Were you expecting Celia?”
I shrug. “She’s the one who answered the phone.”
When I motion for her to come in, she hesitates.
I flash her a wide smile. “I promise I won't bite.”
Unlike some of the other company you keep, I add mentally.
That seems to spur her into action. She shoulders past me, and a wave of some floral scent hits me—a distraction I don’t need. She heads straight for the bathroom.
She stops at the threshold, her eyes scanning the glittering mess on the floor before she turns back to me. “Tell me what happened?” she asks, raising a clipboard. “I need details for our maintenance crew.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. I didn’t think this through. There’s no way I can tell her I accidentally broke the shower glass when I activated my strength rune while jerking off.
How is it that I didn’t notice or know she worked here?
I mentally smack myself.You’re a goddamned trained hunter, Z. Fucking act like it. Stop letting this woman get in your head.
Kallie stands there expectantly, pen poised over her clipboard, and I notice the scatter of freckles across her nose.
The same freckles Stark was muttering about.
The memory is enough to make my jaw tighten.
