How about…Me as Mrs. Rupert Fage?My stomach roils, and I start to gag as acid sloshes in my belly and begins to climb to my throat.
That does it. Death is preferable to being married to that piece of shit. I didn’t avoid him for over twenty years just to be forced to be his missus. Parker is welcome to that cootie louse.
Carefully, I reach over and grab the closest horn, then swing my leg up until my bare foot finds solid purchase on the knee of the gargoyle. Gritting my teeth, I pull myself up, then over. The desert wind blows, pulling at my hair and dress, as though telling me to go back to Doris’s luxurious prison.
No thanks.
I slowly and carefully make my way over. My muscles burn as I clench the horns and fangs with all my might. Holy shit, this sort of stuff looks so easy in the movies. At least the stone used for the carving is rough, and I can get a decent grip. Otherwise, I’d definitely slip and die. I inch my way over…
Careful… Careful…
Don’t be afraid, I tell myself. Seriously, death is shitty, but not as terrible as it appears. Should I fall, Doris, Vernon and Rupert would become destitute fairly quickly. I looked up the charitable organization that would get my entire sixty-billion-dollar fortune. The Pryce Family Foundation is run by a woman named Elizabeth Pryce-King, and she doesn’t look like a pushover. The best part is that she has no connection to anybody in Nesovia, and Doris has no way to influence her.
My pulse pounds in my head, and my mouth is completely dry.
Come on. Just a little bit more…!
I stretch my leg as much as possible, and my toes touch the railing. Air rushes out in a big sigh of relief, but I still maintain a tight grip on the gargoyles. Can’t screw up the last step.
Clenching my teeth, I throw myself at the balcony and safety. At the same time the double doors open, and a dark-haired man in a charcoal-gray suit steps out.
I yelp, and he spins in my direction, his eyes wide in shock and alarm. I crash into him, wrapping my arms around him in a death grip. He staggers back a few steps, until his back hits the doorjamb.
“What the hell?”
“Shiii—!” I put a hand over his mouth, looking back at Doris’s suite. “Not so loud.”
He stares at me with wide, blue-gray eyes. My heart still pounding from the crossing—but I’m safe now—I take a moment to gather my thoughts. A neighbor wasn’t part of the plan. Given how extravagant Doris is with my money, I thought she might have rented every room on the floor, just to show how important she is.
The man’s tall—at least six-five—and my toes barely touch the floor while my arm’s looped around his neck. Smells good, too—something woodsy and spicy with a hint of warm flesh.
The few thoughts I’ve gathered scatter as I look at him. He is simplybeautiful, something I never thought I’d ever consider any man to be. A lock of dark hair falls over his high forehead. Thick eyebrows are slanted slightly upward, three deep lines settling between them as he studies me, the intensity in his eyes sending scalding shivers down my back. His cheekbones are just high enough to balance his stunning features, perfect spots for a woman to lay affectionate kisses. His mouth is still pressed against my palm, and my pulse speeds up for reasons that have nothing to do with the exhilaration from my daring escape.
I should say something. I’m the only one with a free mouth. “Look, if you don’t scream or anything, I’ll let you go. Deal?” I whisper.
His gaze glides to the gargoyles…then to the balcony on the other side. He takes my wrist firmly, then lowers my hand. Um. Guess he could’ve always freed himself. “Did you just come from the next suite?”
I nod with a smile full of pride, a sentiment he doesn’t seem to share. The lines between his eyebrows become trenches. “Are youcrazy?” he demands.
“Maybe?” I shrug, then look up at him. “Which way should I answer to get you to cooperate?”
Chapter Four
Ares
The woman’s question leaves me speechless for a moment, and as a Harvard-educated lawyer, that doesn’t happen often.Cooperate?With her? For what purpose?
Her eyes are unusual—one blue and one green, just like Queen. Although my heartbeat picks up at the thought, logic quickly kills the hope. I’ve found several women with such eyes who turned out to be nothing special or outright scammers, even though I’m careful not to reveal why I’m looking for her. And there’s no waythiswoman is Queen. My girl was brave, not insane.
Thick, dark lashes make the woman’s eyes appear large and innocent. They don’t seem crazy. On the other hand, Dad didn’t think Mom was crazy either until she decided to be crazy in love,literally.
“You do realize there are things called doors and hallways, right? You could have just knocked like a rational human being.” Then I wonder…is this woman from my uncle?
I’ve only had four girlfriends, but that should be enough for Harvey Dunkel to know my type: a willowy blonde with blue or green eyes, although the lady in front of me is a bit too skinny for my taste. She has a heart-shaped face with a slightly pointed chin, which gives her a pixie-like appearance. Her platinum hair is set in a fancy style with flowers, suitable for a wedding. She’s even in a floor-length white gown layered with lace and chiffon.It’s almost as though Harvey saw into my memory and created an adult version of Queen as closely as possible.
He’s been doing his best to get in touch with me, ostensibly to get me on retainer to help him extend his “empire” into the United States. Says he’ll pay me in cash or women, or both. “Once you truly learn the pleasure of female flesh, you’ll never look back,” he said.
Disgusting.
