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“Could it be that I own the place?” I ask, gesturing toward my bare feet and then the office I’d walked out of.
My question has his expressive eyebrows drawing down, his mouth attempting to form words, though none come out.
“Everything okay?” I ask, frowning.
Kitty clears her throat at the register, and I stare past him at another man dressed in a suit, facing her. My confusion has me walking toward them.
One step, two steps.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Are they some sort of gangsters? Or spies?
Is he a hitman, hired by the big bookstores to take out the little guy?
“Why are you here?” I ask, my gaze between them.
Ezra is still stuck, his thick brows darkening his eyes.
Three steps, four steps. The other man wastes no time.
“We’re looking for Ms. Lucy Bordeau.”
I’ve taken so many steps, I’m standing in front of Kitty and the register. Ezra’s eyes are on me, determined and dark, and I’m curious how he fits into all of this.
“That’s me,” I say.
“Wait a minute,” Ezra says. “You told me your name was Eloise.”
His voice jolts me with its intensity, his hand jabbing toward me.
“My middle name is Lucille. Most people around here call me Lucy.”
Despite my insistence that they don’t.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of game you people are getting at—” Ezra starts before I interrupt him.
“You people?” My voice is quiet, a cold edge to it as I tilt my head to glare at him.
This is the man who ran his hand down my spine, following it with his lips. The same man who tasted my orgasm and filled me with his.
I’m dizzy with regret.
“I’m sorry, who are you, what are you doing here, and why are you speaking to my sister that way?” Kitty asks defensively, her eyes shifting between the three of us.
I don’t want to tell my little sister that I fucked the asshole in front of us.
“We’re here to make an offer on this property,” the man in front of me says.
The rest of his words are muted as I stare at Ezra, giving him a look that I wish could kill.
The letters in the mail, the emails I never answered, the calls I never returned. I’d heard rumors that some big shot was trying to buy the properties on this street. But I never thought…
This wasn’t fate.
This was maneuvering.
This was hunting prey.
