Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Before she could make headway, a man stepped in her path. His salt-and-pepper hair was artfully styled, falling rakishly over his forehead. His lips were pulled into a cocky grin and wrinkle lines fanned out at the edges of his eyes, exposing pale skin underneath an obvious tan, highlighted by his keen interest sliding over her body.
She knew the type. Rich, powerful, important, not used to hearing the word “no” and less inclined to listen. He was undaunted by the twenty-year age gap and probably turned on by her apparent fragility. She crossed paths with such people far too often. It always made her slightly uncomfortable, which made her violent. Now wasn’t the time for either.
“Hello,” he said, using his size to hunch over her in a way that projected caging her into his notice.
She met his gaze…and let her confidence leak back into her eyes. Violence lurked in that sparkle, she knew. A warning.
His smile wilted, uncertainty replacing the confidence. She stopped in front of him, her fingers itching for the small knife hidden on the inside of her waistband. That sentiment would be transmitted in her slightly manic smile. Not all doll-like creatures made good playthings. Some came alive in the middle of the night and killed you in your sleep.
His eyes widened as his bearing turned rigid. She lifted her right eyebrow slowly, silently asking what he was doing in her way. Zorn was a master at the expression, and she tried to leak just as much hostility into it as he would’ve.
“Ex-excuse me,” the man stammered before clearing his throat. He shuffled away.
Huh. That had been easier than expected. Maybe he recognized her? Or maybe he just recognized Crazy. She was the type of woman who, when her feet hit the floor in the morning, the devil said, “Oh shit, she’s up.” She’d seen that on a mug once and never forgotten the analogy. It fit perfectly.
The way up ahead parted. She continued her slinky walk, keeping the pace slow in hopes her target would glance up. He leaned forward in his chair, gesturing at the men he was talking to. The men stayed straight, holding the power in that dynamic. Good. To grab Rutherford’s attention, all she’d need to do was offer him his power back, an easy illusion to create.
Haughty arrogance flowed away from her expression and her posture. The ego flittered away, as well. Vulnerability turned into demure sophistication, money in the hands of youth, soft-spoken and reserved, eager to please and follow his lead. This was why she was so slow to be recognized in public. Her face might be the same, but circumstances changed everything else about her. She could seem like an entirely different person at the drop of a hat. Amber had taught her well.
The man leaned back, his eyes flicking away from the others in irritation. It was then he caught sight of her, his gaze passing her by one moment, then snapping back. It slid down her body, a spark of interest igniting. When he finally noticed her eyes, she was biting her lip with a little smile.
His attention fell away from the men immediately, as though they’d gotten up and walked out of the room. Nearly upon them and she still held her target’s focus, his eyes gleaming. Getting him away would be no problem.
She gave him a smile of hello as a strange shimmer caught her notice out of the corner of her eye.
Her focus shattered. Her blood felt like it had frozen solid, shock and surprise and delight and fear rolling within her in turns. The air glittered in a familiar and beautiful array of gold and tangerine and rose with sparks of violet and cerulean, reminding her of the sky at dusk. It sparkled and glowed, entrancing. So incredibly obvious…but not noticed by anyone else in the room.
Adrenaline poured through her body.
As if recognizing he’d been “made,” the sizzle of color bled away to reveal an uncomfortably handsome fae in a perfectly tailored suit adorning his incredible physique. His hair was styled loose and tousled and somehow made his almost severe, chiseled face elegantly jaw-dropping. It also hid his otherworldly ears. No one in here would know what he truly was. His poise was regal in a way no one here could be, and his clothing, and the way he wore it, was dapper in a way everyone was attempting.
Small beads of sweat coated her forehead. He shouldn’t be here. There was nothing here he was supposed to want.
Except her.
The fae’s perfect lips curled into a mouthwatering smile. A welcoming smile. Ice formed in the pit of her stomach.
“Hey.” A man ten years her senior diverted her attention for a moment, approaching her with a slick grin. “I’m Andy. I see you have a drink, so I guess you don’t need me to buy you one.” He laughed. “Do you come to these things often?”