Chapter 18
ISAAC
Ollie made a right at the first turning on the wonderfully colorful Rainbow Mile, driving up an incline past a row of candy shops on the left and bakeries on the right.
“This is Naughty Lane,” Ollie said. “Because of all the sugar.”
I snorted. “Is that it’s real name?”
“Official name is Amulet Road, but it’s been ‘naughty’ for decades.”
“Interesting. I’ll have to come down here one day. This whole area looks like great fun.”
“Maybe I’ll bring you.”
Here came a flood of euphoria paired with a pleasant shiver.
I’d love to go on a date with you.
Instead of spouting that, I responded with, “Candy is a big weakness of mine. I don’t eat it much because I’d devour one of those supposed share bags by myself in one sitting.” I rolled my eyes.
He chuckled. “I know what you mean.”
“Seriously, eh? Share bag is a ridiculous thing to call them.”
He laughed louder, slowing down, approaching a building made of pale pink bricks.
What a lovely sound coming from his throat.
“Got any recommendations?” I asked.
“For what?”
“Candy.”
That word made me think of tomorrow’s meeting with the fashion house.
Ugh.
Ollie stopped at another set of traffic lights. “There are these chocolate truffles sold at Cocoa Wonders called Silky Milky. I swear to Hecate they’ll change your life.”
This side of him brought jolly warmth to my belly. “Now I really want chocolate.”
We arrived at the hotel carpark. I looked up at the building resembling a large townhouse crossed with a white pointed roof, soft pink light glowing in the windows.
Curved around the building were immaculate gardens with an array of outdoor seating undercover with heaters and occupied by guests. But one of the garden spaces was filled with Hecate Crystals.
Oh, shit. What if the fae hag attacked? There must have been a hundred of them clustered together in there, just waiting for the cackling fucker to manipulate.
I rolled my shoulders, taking a deep breath. My brain overloaded, shifting into a state of hyper alertness.
Ollie pulled up outside the main entrance’s drop off area, protected by a pink-and-white awning. One of the doormen came and opened the door for me, decked out in gray top hat and tails and a pink tie.
“Good evening, sir,” he greeted me.
Did everyone who rocked up here get the rockstar treatment?
He closed the door for me, then Ollie drove off to park. He refused a valet because we might need a quick getaway and couldn’t be waiting around for the keys.
“We’ve been expecting you,” he added. “Your party is waiting in the restaurant.”
A couple of guests mulling around the entrance recognizing me.
Here we go…
“Party?” I questioned, pulling my coat around me to fight off the cold night air.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Cash.”
Mr. Cash? Who the fuck was that?
I guess Helen had mentioned a surprise.
Ollie, having parked the car in record time, appeared beside me, shades on, a tad damp from the rain, looking the part of bodyguard, all mysterious and yummy.
I quelled the sudden rise of a being-fucked-in-the-back-of-a-car fantasy.
Not now!
The doorman led me into the lobby, where another member of staff waited, dressed in a black suit but with a pale pink boutonniere in her lapel.
“Good evening, Mr. Davenport,” she said. “This way, please.”
She took me from the lobby into the restaurant through a floral arch of pink-and-white roses.
The hotel’s décor was immaculate pink-and-white, the floors a coral pink marble gleaming under modern glass light fixtures. There was an expensive sheen to it, not one flaw in sight, but I didn’t like it. Something felt slightly wonky about it, as if the place was trying too hard.
Ollie followed, staying close to my back. For once, I didn’t conjure any dirty thoughts, only feeling a sense of relief about having him here with me.
Helen occupied a table over by the far-left window beside a log fire. She spotted me and got to her feet, beckoning me over.
There was a guy with her. Mr. Cash, apparently, and I kind of recognized him.
“Oh, crap…” I heard Ollie mutter.
I stopped, turning to face him. “What’s the matter?”
His jaw was tightly set, his hands balled into fists.
“Ollie?”
He took a deep breath, moving away from me. “I’ll hang back over there.” He jutted a thumb at the floral arch.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. Something had clearly spooked him.
But he left, taking up position on the other side of the arch.
“Sir?” the staff member who’d brought me here said.
I blinked, directing my attention to her. “Yes?”
What was wrong with Ollie?
“Your party is waiting.” She gestured toward the table.
But he’s… Why is he—
“Sir?”
“Darling?” Helen called from behind me.
I straightened my spine, clearing my throat, game face slipping on. “Sorry. Is my bodyguard okay to lurk over there?”
The woman smiled. “Of course, sir.”
With one last glance in Ollie’s direction, I went to join my agent and the mystery man.