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“I’m sure he can,” I replied. “But I don’t expect him to. I have my own money.”
“How…progressive.” He flicked his gaze over me, head to foot, and for the first time, I swear I saw something less than cordial there. “You are different from what I’d expect from Thierry.”
“Well, you know what they say about expectations,” I replied.
“What is that?”
“They always lead to disappointment.”
Damon’s lips thinned as he coolly studied me for another moment before he and Alicia disappeared through the glass door.
I yanked my phone from my bag again, staring with annoyance at the dead screen. The magical interference better not mean I needed a new phone. These things weren’t cheap, and I hadn’t bought the extended coverage.
“Well, girls, it seems we have a few minutes to kill.” I glanced down at my new shoes, “Let’s get some info on Mr. Rags to Riches, shall we?”
My plan was this: I’d talk to some of the salespeople, all calm and nonchalant, and I’d ask them about their boss, feeling around for whether they realized they were working for an immortal warlock. Having worked retail in my early twenties, I knew there had to be someone here, a disgruntled employee who wanted to dish about their creepy-but-hot boss.
Honestly? I might have let it go at face value if he hadn’t given me that cold look of distaste. My being progressive enough to want to pay for my own purchases. Shocking, I know. And clearly, he didn’t like Thierry.
Not that this was particularly a red flag. I’d met many people from Thierry’s extensive past, and it seemed to be more the norm than the exception that he’d collected more enemies than friends over the years.
Not allowing myself to be distracted by the store full of incredible fashion and accessories, I scanned the sales staff, searching for someone who looked miserable and potentially chatty. Bonus points, of course, if they spoke perfect English.
One face after another, and I saw nothing useful other than a bunch of people helping other customers.
But then something caught my eye.
A very short man with a thick beard and thick glasses was staring at me from across the store. Staring…and waving his arms.
I turned and glanced behind me, but there was no one there.
I faced him and put my hand on my chest. “Me?” I mouthed to him.
He nodded and gestured toward me to follow him.
All this was odd enough to start with. But one thing made it even odder.
This strange bearded man wasn’t exactly solid. I could see right through him to the shoe rack behind him.
He was a ghost. A ghost who seemed desperate to talk to me.
