For a second, things are peaceful in the apartment. Isolde Matheson has a nice place, I’ll give her that.
It’s too bad the building is owned by Hadrian Fucking Hallow.
As a rule, I’m not a fan of rich pricks who think they run this city. Which is why it’s a kick in the teeth, knowing I now sort of work for him.
Actually, there isn’t any sort of doubt about it. Once he signs the contract I just sent over, he’ll be another one of my clients.
It was one thing when Ren sprang the idea of watching over Matheson. But she’s Ren Callahan. There’s no point in pissing her off, and if I’m being honest, after severalweeks being her shadow, it’s not in me to upset her. She’s a good person. Scary but good.
I know why she’s upset. It’s clear how close she and the Brit are. Though, if I’m correct, I’m guessing there’s a part of Isolde she’s unaware of. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have looked so surprised tonight when someone tried to off her best friend. Again.
This is from Cade.
The man I killed tonight deserved his death just for his dramatics alone. Goddamn, did he not notice everything going around him? He stood there acting like the moment had been a cinematic feat, staring down at Isolde, who, for the first time since I’d known her, had gotten knocked off her feet.
The phone in my hand bends slightly, and I quickly relax my grip.
The screen lights up just as Isolde slips into the bathroom, the door shutting with a click.
“Dad,” I say as I move closer to the wall of windows. This is the apartment they show on social media, convincing you to move to the city. Airy and bright during the day, with a snapshot of lit-up skyscrapers at night.
Who knows what the fuck Hallow did to afford it.
“I thought you were coming by tonight?” my father says. If I had to guess, based on the TV running in the background, he’s sitting in his favorite recliner. Some big, ugly thing that’s older than I am, but comfy as hell.
“It’s midnight.” As loath as I am to admit it, I bet this wall of windows in Matheson’s place shows off a stunning sunrise.
“Yeah, I thought you were coming. I’m guessing not anymore.”
Not wanting to repeat what time it is, I keep my mouth shut.
“Luis says you got a new client. I thought you said you hada week in between the one you were just working with and that thing you booked for next month.”
“Yeah.” I rub at the space between my eyebrows. That plan went to shit thanks to some guy named Cade. “I booked a client last minute.”
“Oh.” There’s a burst of laughter, some late-night show echoing down the line. “Business is good then?”
“Yeah.”
I hadn’t planned on taking on Ren as a client, but I can’t lie. It’s a good thing to have on your resume. The moment people got wind she—Aunt Macy’s niece—was a client, enquiries into my business exploded. I went from just a couple of clients on the books to a waiting list.
A blessing. That’s what my mother would say if she were here. As a small business owner, I’m not knocking it, but now I’m coming to terms with a balancing act.
“How long will you be with this client?” Dad asks.
“I don’t know.” It’s the honest truth. It’s a lucrative gig, something open-ended like this. And Hallow has the cash flow to keep it going.
A mixture between a grunt and a sigh comes from my dad. It’s his typical ‘I’m thinking noise.’ “Well, that’s good, though. You know. Good for business. Keeps the cash going.”
I’d probably be more inclined to agree if Isolde hadn’t just told me to take Hallow’s money.
How the fuck are you even involved with a guy like that?
It’d been on the tip of my tongue, but her blue eyes had stopped me. People talk about saucer eyes, but shit, I thought the entire ocean was staring back at me. And that’s coming from a guy who never waxes poetically.
But her skin, porcelain with a smattering of freckles, looked gray. She wouldn’t let me take a look at the wound, which is why I’d called Tyler. He’s always been like that—putting people at ease.
She should have changed earlier. Instead of sitting around in a blood-soaked hoodie while pretending to watch reality TV.
