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Confused by the abrupt rejection, after such a gentle exchange, I buckled up, muttering, “Thank you. This is where I prefer to be. Right?
After what had happened, I expected him to look away. But his attention remained fixed on me for a long while. Averylong while. I wouldn’t react. Not even a little. Except, I did. Ribbons of heat uncoiled in my veins, and I squirmed.
“Do I make you nervous, wife?”
Must Callen purr such a leading question? “Yes,” I admitted without thought. I pursed my lips. Honestly, not even August had made me feel this jittery. “But only sometimes, so don’t go getting a big head about it.”
He blinked and rubbed his thumb into the center of his lower lip. “Hmm,” he uttered, too sexy for words.
My heart lurched into a race. Hmm? What did ‘hmm’ mean? It must be good, because yep, the ring twisting started next. Man, I loved recognizing this tell.
We said nothing else as the car came to a halt in front of a lovely stone building near a body of pristine blue water.So not where I’d expected an immortal king to work. I recognized the densely populated shopping area. I’d toured here. Had even passed the building’s row of windows. Had Callen stood behind the glass, neither of us comprehending how we’d be connected one day?
The driver opened his door, and Callen climbed out. Once again, he offered me a hand. This time, I accepted without an intermission. Warmth sizzled in my cheeks upon contact. I almost pulled away. Almost.
Hand in hand, we crossed the threshold, and oh wow. Historic on the outside, modern on the inside. A sapphire-veined marble floor paired nicely with the chandelier dripping with thousands of blue crystals. Azure light reflected over a round table displaying a massive vase of fresh bluebells. The most incredible floral scent sweetened the air.
Toward the back of the entrance loomed a large mahogany reception counter where two women waited. An older quintessential grandmother type with curly salt and pepper hair, and a young, pink-haired stunner paler than Isobel. I thought I remembered seeing both at the after-wedding party.
Did they know Callen was a berserker? Were they, perhaps, fated mates of other berserkers? Or were they unsuspecting mortals?
Phones rang in the background as Callen and I approached. Both ladies popped to their feet with a smart device in one grip and a cup of coffee in the other. Pinkie eyed my casual clothing with a wee bit of derision. Favored her designer dress, did she? Meanwhile, the older woman revealed nothing.
We soared past the pair. As we did so, Callen claimed a coffee. Both women followed on our heels, their smart devices at the ready.
Pinkie thrust her coffee in my direction. For me? I accepted with a confused, “Thank you?” He’d called ahead? They’d known I was coming?
Callen tossed orders left and right. A list of the people he wanted contacted. Attachments he expected to find in his inbox. A “derg” he sought to be delivered by the end of the day.
Our onlookers took turns muttering, “Aye.”
We passed roughly fifty other employees, each sitting at a desk or rushing from here to there. Anyone in our path scrambled off. A few blatantly looked me over. Others tried to be more covert. I nodded and smiled at all because what else could I do? Callen’s fast clip kept me from sipping my drink.
Windowed walls framed a waiting room with multiple bookshelves, two couches, and a coffee table. A large fifty-something man with a heavily scarred face perched behind a reception desk. He noticed Callen, stood and nodded.
Callen ushered me past him, down a hallway, and through a self-automated glass door. We entered a private office with modern furnishings and a minimalist vibe. There were no portraits. No knickknacks. Nothing personal of any kind anywhere. Just electronics positioned across the desk.
I might have cringed a bit. “This is where you spend the bulk of your days?” It was nothing like the castle, which I preferred. Here, the few chairs provided the thinnest cushions. “No wonder you’re always in a bad mood.”
“I’m not always in a bad mood,” he grumbled, holding out a chair in front of the clear desk and motioning me over.
“What is it you do, exactly?” The question slipped out before I could plug into my common sense and download IsThis A Smart Thing To Say software. I eased into the chair, and yes, it was as uncomfortable as I’d suspected.
“I ensure my money is making money.” He sat behind the desk and got busy on a call, seeming to forget my very existence.
I sipped my coffee and grimaced. Gross! No milk or sugar.
“Is something wrong with the coffee?” he asked. So he hadn’t lost sight of me, after all. Interesting.
“I like it sweet and creamy.”
“Since when?”
Argh! See! I needed to download that software ASAP. “Since today.”
I placed the cup near a stack of papers and rose. No way I could perch here the rest of the day without something to do. “I’m gonna make myself at home.”
Not awaiting his permission, I ambled over to the bookshelves. Only a handful of books lined the shelves, but oh, oh, oh! A history of berserkers. Finally! I snatched it up, only to blink with confusion. Did he seriously keep a book chronicling his cloak-and-dagger immortal origins out in the open? The daring required for such an act staggered me.
