Chapter 15
Serenity
Hunter turned his back as I changed for bed.
When I let out a quiet “okay,” he turned back around, taking in my tousled hair, rumpled sleep shorts and tank.
He suppressed a growl, his bare chest vibrating as we stared at each other. We’d both barely spoken a word since our kiss. But there was no awkwardness. There was an ease and comfort to our companionship. Like we didn’t need words to know what the other was thinking.
And I would never get enough of looking at his body. Standing there in his slim-fit boxer shorts, his form brought to mind the powerful likenesses of Zeus or Achilles I’d seen when studying art.
Except Hunter outdid them all. His body, as if masterfully carved from some exotic hardwood, rippled with power, every part of his muscular physique in perfect definition. His dark skin only added to the beauty.
As I slipped between the sheets, he crawled into bed on the other side and laid down next to me. I slid over to my side, facing away from him. Because I wanted to be held in the same way he’d done the night before.
He instantly knew what would make me feel comfortable. He curled his warmth around me, wrapping his huge bicep around my waist and tucking his legs behind mine. I could get used to this casual dating thing.
Carrot hopped up on the bed with a little yowl, like she thought we were going to sleep without her.
Hunter chuckled, petted her softly before she settled near our feet, then brushed his lips against my hair and whispered, “Night, Little Dancer.”
And the next thing I knew I was waking up to the alarm I’d set on my phone, no nightmares or bad memories. Just a restful sleep.
Hunter was still slumbering, breathing softly behind me. When I rolled around to look at him, he stirred and slowly woke up, his face changing from relaxed to contented, as if he’d slept even better than I had.
Two hours later, I arrived at Midas, full of a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon Hunter had whipped up for us. Brimming with nervous excitement, I filled out the new employee paperwork, sitting in the waiting area outside Bryce’s office.
His secretary, a very attractive middle-aged Fae, sat across the room from me at her desk. I hadn’t learned her name at my interview, and she hadn’t introduced herself this morning. But another assistant had called her Darlene when he’d dropped off a file.
As I finished the paperwork and fiddled with the neck of my sweater, she smirked. “I know you’re young, but here at Midas, we project a certain image.” Darlene motioned to her own beautifully tailored dress then smoothed a strand of shiny hair behind her pointed Fae ear.
Fae were rare in New Nebraska, but they always had a polished and sophisticated look to them. I still had no idea how to respond though. Believe me, buying some nicer clothes was top of my list. When I could afford them.
“I can recommend a store.” The words sounded helpful, but her tone was cold. “You should cover those marks too.” She frowned at my legs. “After all—”
Bryce strode through the waiting room’s frosted glass doors in a razor-sharp navy suit, immaculately pressed white shirt and maroon tie.
His eyes went to me and he kept walking until he stopped just a foot from where I sat, sending wisps of citrus and spice my way.
His familiar scent calmed my nerves. Seeing his bright smile did the same.
He seemed pleased at whatever he saw or was thinking about as he looked at me.
He continued flashing me such a wide, happy smile as silence filled the large waiting area.
And I reminded myself Bryce hadn’t hired me for my looks and didn’t seem to care about my scars.
“Shouldn’t you back up, Mr. Harding?” Darlene said in a cringey, familiar voice, causing Bryce to stiffen and turn toward her. “We wouldn’t want Ms. Dawson to accidentally touch you.”
A flash of sadness passed over his face as Bryce took a small step away. “Yes, you’re quite right. We should minimize the risks.”
Darlene smiled smugly at me then addressed Bryce, “I was just finishing Ms. Dawson’s paperwork. May I get you something? An espresso? Something from the deli?”
“Hmm.” Bryce considered it. This time as he glanced at me, he schooled his features. “What do you say, Ms. Dawson? Some coffee? Something to eat?”
“Just coffee would be great. Thank you, Bry—Mr. Harding.”
“Of course.” He looked back to Darlene who was staring at me with an iron gaze after my slip up. “A cappuccino for us both, please.” He ordered what he knew was my favorite at Hunter’s loft. “And a breakfast panini for me. Also one of those blueberry scones—one of us will finish it.”
“I’m not sure if you have time for a breakfast meeting this morning and going to the news station. Maybe you should send Ms. Dawson with Roman to the station? I’m sure he’d be happy to give her the full tour.” She reached for the phone.
“I know my schedule. Leave it to me. Thanks, Darlene.” He turned his back to her and gave me a discreet wink.
“Yes, sir.” She hurried out the door, but I caught a hint of a scowl on her lips.
Once she was gone, Bryce’s stiff posture melted away and he smiled just as brightly as when he first greeted me. “Sorry about that.”
“Sorry about the name slip.” I gave him an apologetic grimace as I fidgeted in my seat.
“Oh, no worries about that. I know what we discussed on the phone, but I’d actually be fine with you calling me Bryce. To be honest, it feels natural.”
“It does, but it’s still probably best not to.”
“Yes. I understand.” He took another step back. Keeping an even wider space between us, he motioned me into his office. After I stood and walked in first, he slipped behind his desk and rested his suit’s finely tailored sleeves on its mahogany surface.
“If you’re busy, I can go to the news station with someone else.” I stood in the middle of his office, shifting my weight in my heels.
“No.” He sighed lightly. “Please ignore Darlene. She’s very sharp, a great assistant, but…
territorial.” He paused, eyes shying away as he fiddled with one of his cuff links.
“Especially around attractive women.” He murmured, so low I barely caught it, before his voice returned to normal volume “But ah, anyway, please sit.” He gestured to the seat across from his broad desk.
“I have a couple of updates on Conrad Marchand and his associate. Whose full name, by the way, is Armand Vincenzo. My PI just called.”
“What did he say?” The chair’s material was soft and welcoming, but news of Conrad and Armand had me ignoring that, perching on its edge.
Bryce leaned back, sucking in and exhaling through gritted teeth. “Not as much as I’d have liked. But a start.”
“Did he find out something Dagg—Detective Pierce could use?”
Bryce leaned forward again, picking up and tapping the tip of an expensive-looking pen on his desk. “Dagger’s quite the character, isn’t he?”
Quite the enigma and maybe even problem too, with my conflicting feelings about him and my growing feelings for his brother. “Yes.” I decided to give Bryce a bit of honesty. “I wasn’t expecting Hunter’s lookalike to be quite so brash.”
Bryce chuckled. “They may look identical, but Hunter’s the quiet one. Don’t get me wrong”—he stopped his pen tapping—“Hunter can certainly defend himself if he has to. But he prefers reading to violence, the twin who turned to philosophy to deal with the ghosts of the past.”
“And Dagger?”
“He went down a different path. Not that Dagger’s rougher edges are a bad thing.
He always gets results. Probably why the police chief puts up with him.
In fact, Morgan, the chief, told me as much when we were golfing a few months back.
But for now, my PI is making headway on Conrad with a more subtle approach. ”
“Great.”
My easy agreement seemed to please him. “Okay, so, we have an address for him. One that Armand’s been seen at too.”
Each mention of their names surged unpleasant aches in my stomach. “That’s really great, then why can’t the police—”
He winced. “Sorry to get your hopes up. They’ve both only been spotted there a couple of times.
Just for brief periods. And Conrad disappeared mysteriously once or twice, almost like he vanished into thin air.
My PI wonders if he’s got some special ability we don’t know about.
Anyway, if the police go charging in, it could scare them off.
We don’t want them knowing they’re being looked for.
If they’re wrapped up in distributing this new drug Dagger mentioned, we need more evidence.
Something that could lock them up for as long as possible. ”
“Yes, of course. So… what next?”
“We let my PI keep digging. Discreetly. Don’t worry.” His eyes focused on mine, full of compassion. “We’ll make them pay. And then some.”
Darlene rushed back in with the coffee. “Food is coming,” she said as she ignored me, set one cappuccino on the side table and slid Bryce’s to him across his desk with a sickly-sweet smile. She wasn’t just territorial, she wanted to flirt, as oblivious as Bryce seemed to be.
After she left, we chatted about who I’d meet today.
My ears perked up as Bryce mentioned a promising new reporter he’d just poached from a small local news station, someone I’d be working closely with.
He cautioned me that a lot of the staff would be resistant to my design changes, but hopefully this new reporter could be an ally.
With that news, my stomach settled and I sipped at my drink, enjoying the warm, chocolate sprinkled froth. Then, once the food arrived and we’d shared that too, we went downstairs, slid into Bryce’s Benz and headed for the station.
I hoped for a warmer welcome than I’d gotten from Darlene.