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CHAPTER 1
Hazel
Isank further into Gran’s old floral couch letting it wrap me in its warmth. My thoughts were whirling and I needed a second to pull them together before I could spill the details of what happened at the Christmas Party.
How could that have been both the best and worst night of my life?
I plucked at the pills on the maroon flower of the cushion next to me.
Each moment from last night strung together like a movie trailer racing through my mind.
The press of Jareth’s firm lips to mine, the heat of his hand on my breast, and the slight sting of pain as he tugged my hair within his grasp.
Even now, with only the memory of his touch, my body sparked with desire, and every nerve ending tingled.
The touch of his lips against mine easily replaced the horror that occurred just before it.
I released a sigh. It was our first and last kiss. My stomach twisted uncomfortably at that thought.
“Hazel Anne Finley.” My grandmother’s gasp yanked me to the present. “What happened to your arm?”
I groaned and shifted uncomfortably on the loveseat in Gran’s apartment at the assisted living facility. I’d forgotten all about my bruised bicep when I removed my forest green cardigan and draped it haphazardly over the arm of the couch.
“It’s—”
Her eyes narrowed as she pinned her Gran-glare at me. “Do not lie to me, young lady.”
I sighed again. Gran knew me better than anyone else and had an uncanny knack for knowing when something heavy was on my mind. It had been the two of us against the world since I was six, when the state took me away from my parents.
I should’ve known she’d guess I was about to minimize what happened.
“Gran.” I started, then stopped. I hated to worry her, and this bruise and how I got it would, undoubtedly, do just that.
Unable to hide the slight tremor in my hands, I grabbed the pillow next to me. Keeping it firmly against my stomach, I tucked my feet beneath me as I prepared myself to tell her what had happened. My fingers danced across the fabric, tracing the uneven letters spelling out ‘World’s Best Grandma’ that I’d stitched into it when I was nine.
“A guy at the party last night grabbed me.” I pushed a piece of my blonde hair behind my ear. “He tried to take advantage of me.”
A sharp inhale had my gaze snapping up to meet hers. Fire danced in her green eyes so like my own. Her jaw tightened, and her lips pressed flat together. I knew that look. It was the expression that told me she’d fight anyone who tried to hurt me.
“I’m okay. This bruise is all he did to me. Jareth took care of him.” I didn’t even want to say the name of the man who attacked me.
She harrumphed. “I would expect nothing less from Jareth.” The two had briefly met a few times. What she knew about my boss was gleaned from my daily stories about work, and the crush I couldn’t hide from her.
I bit my bottom lip.
Gran’s voice gentled. “Hazel, my sweet girl. Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
I let out a shuddery breath. A chill swept over me, making me wish I hadn’t taken off my sweater. I grabbed the colorful afghan draped across the back of the couch and pulled it around my shoulders, taking comfort in the smell of roses, which always reminded me of my grandmother.
“Harold is… was, a board member at Jess Sulton’s company. He told me there was a sick guest in one of the back rooms.” My mouth twisted into a grimace. “I shouldn’t have believed him. He was clearly drunk, and I’d never liked him much, but how could I not go when someone needed my help?” Part of me hated that I hadn’t listened to my instincts. I rubbed my arms. They still felt cold.
“He’s a sick bastard to take advantage of your desire to care for others,” Grandma spat out. Like me, she rarely swore, so when she did, everyone knew she was furious. It was thanks to her that I’d become quite adept at creative ways to avoid cursing. “Anyone who spends even two minutes with you knows you’re a helper.”
I nodded. I’d had enough interactions with Harold that he must have figured out that the thought of someone in trouble would make me come running. That and my boss, Jareth Vizier, but Harold wasn’t stupid enough to use him as an excuse.
“I’m glad they fired him.” She rapidly tapped her fingers against the faded, matching floral armchair. I knew she’d be pacing right now if she had better use of her legs.
“Jareth told him he needed to resign.” When Jareth spoke, people listened. If they knew what was good for them. His ruthlessness preceded him with any interaction, business or otherwise.
