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“For thirteen years, that took top spot as my most unwise decision, until I fell in love with Giselle Moreau. She drained my bank account buying out every shop in Leighbridge, disappear for days on a party binge, and dented my skull with a wine bottle the first time I broke up with her. Her final act was to fly home to Paris to visit her family, and forget to book a return trip. Good enough, or should I keep going?”
Blaine sat back, arms folded. “Twentieth floor, huh? That’s impressive.”
“I’d show you the video, but I was... unclothed.”
She giggled—shoulders shaking, almond eyes shiny. It was a light, sweet sound. I liked it more than I should.
“See, the guy you’re describing,” she began, “he sounds like the kind of guy worth doing a favor for. You should show this side more often. No one likes an asshole.”
“I don’t know”—I leaned in, brushing my lips over her ear—“I’m partial to rim jobs.”
Blaine reeled back, lips parting and nothing coming out.
That was naughty, but what could I do? I wanted to see if I could make her blush again.
She rebounded as quickly, sticking her face in mine. “Mr. Hunt, if you’re not accepting auditions, don’t read me the script.”
“Will you help us?”
“I can’t.” Regret laced the reply. “You understand why, so this isn’t coming as a surprise. But I do want to help you. I have a friend who knows everything that goes on in this city. I’ll show him the sketch, ask him if he’s heard whispers about the attacks on your family. Hopefully that gets you closer to this guy.”
I didn’t push it. As she said, I understood why she wasn’t about to prioritize my family over hers. Another legitimate businessman wouldn’t give her the choice. They’d lock her away in the compound and use information in her background to keep her under their thumb. Actually, that’s how my fathers met my mother.
There’s no question Elizabeth has changed me. Before her arrival, Blaine’s service to the Merchants wouldn’t be a question, or an option.
I reclined against the cushion, pouring myself another glass of wine. I observed pretty little Mackenzie over the rim.
Changed, but not softened.
My daughter’s safety was paramount. If Sole’s plan had the slightest chance of working out, we had to try. Blaine doesn’t get to say no, so if three-quarters of a million isn’t enough, I’ll figure out what is.
Audition held. Cast chosen. Script written.
Mackenzie Blaine’s role: Our Savior.
MACKENZIE
Liam held the door open for us—the gentleman once again.
His rim job comment tickled my lower belly.
A gentleman and a rogue. I wonder if that’s a book title. If not, it should be.
“It’s a nice night,” he announced. “Lumiere Lane isn’t far away. Why don’t we take a walk? Grab some ice cream.”
“Yay,” Elizabeth cheered.
I drew in closer. “Liam, I can’t. I—”
“Relax.” He touched my elbow. “I sent instructions to Fuller to pack your things. There’ll be a car waiting when we return. It’ll take you wherever you want to go. I’m due at work myself in two hours, so I couldn’t keep you.”
Keep me. He said it without innuendo, but I was humming on nothing but, with the feel of his lips still on my ear.
“I’m simply stealing a little more time with Elizabeth before she has to go to sleep,” he said. “I thought you might like to join us. If not, I’ll call for the car to pick you up now.”
Torn, I checked the time on his wristwatch. Eight thirty.
I couldn’t go to her house then even if I wanted. She wouldn’t be zonked in front of the television until nine or nine thirty. Asleep by midnight.
“Okay,” I gave in. “Although, I couldn’t eat another bite. No ice cream for me, but I’ll take walking off this meal.”
“Ooh, Daddy.” Tricky wedged between us, hugging Liam’s knees. “Can I bring Paisley, please?”
“Sure. Go ahead and get her.”
Elizabeth tugged me along, telling me about the secret pocket in her unicorn’s stomach, stuffed with cotton, secrets, and wishes.
“Can you put her on my jacket?” she asked.
“I sure can.”
Liam beeped the car to let us in.
“Also, I want—”
Boom!
A wall of heat bowled us over, throwing me and Tricky off our feet. I slammed onto the pavement—breath punched out of me once, then again as Tricky fell on top of me.
Wheezing, I couldn’t suck in a breath. White spots danced in my vision, and clanging deafened me.
What... happened? What happened to me?
The bubble popped.
“Elizabeth!”
“Kenzie!”
Screaming. Shouting. Crying. Horns honking, and a dull roar clear through their chorus.
Shakily, I pushed myself up. Tricky clung to me—little nails breaking my skin, wails battering my bruised eardrums.
“Lizzie.” Liam skidded beside us, lost his balance, and shredded his expensive pants on asphalt and the remains of his four-hundred-thousand-dollar car. It didn’t register as he patted and tugged on his daughter, bellowing are you okay?
