AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t think so. Why? What the hell did you do?” I walk around the desk and take a better look at him—red cheek, faint bruise under his left eye, his knuckles banged up.
The man simply shrugs.
“Just blew off some steam.”
“I hope you kept it under wraps.”
I’m getting a headache.
“Umm… yeah. Sure.”
He straightens, and I can’t help but laugh. Our friendly giant isn’t even trying to hide the fact that he’s lying.
“It was for a good cause. I was helping a lady in need,” he explains.
“You know… ladies?”
“I know one for sure.”
I want to ask more, so much more, but his grip on the door handle and frame threatens to break them both if he doesn’t leave.
“I swear, we might as well build a damn bare-knuckle boxing establishment in our basement. At least you can make some money out of all this pent-up energy of yours.”
He cocks his head, scrunching his eyebrows like he’s genuinely considering the idea.
“I mean…” I hear Carter behind me, and I turn my head to him as he crosses his arms. “It could certainly be interesting. We’ve been trying to find a better solution for the money laundering side of things.”
I can see the wheels turning in his head, but Madds pulls me back to him.
“Sounds good to me. I’m gonna go now. Call me if you need me.”
Where the fuck is he running to?
“Just… take it easy,” I tell him, knowing full well that is not what he’s going to do.
I want to touch the painting and feel Ingrid’s skin against mine. That one searing touch when we shook hands was nowhere near enough. Never in my fucking life have I been so wrapped up in a woman. Yet so reluctant to seek her.
What am I afraid of?
“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” Carter asks, appearing next to me.
“She is…”
“She would look quite perfect out in the bar if we didn’t have to sell her.”
Sell her?!
Fucking hell, he’s talking about the painting… of course. I rub my temples and sit in the leather chair behind the desk, clearly needing some space from the image ofher.
She is spellbinding, and the sooner I get rid of that steely gaze following me around this room, the sooner I can go back to business as usual.
Wait… I quickly go back to the canvas, leaning over to take a closer look at her eyes. The painting itself is only about twenty inches in height and fifteen in width, but it’s not a close-up portrait. It’s the full image of her sitting in a chair. So even though the details are quite clear, like her facial features, the texture of the various fabrics and surfaces, the scale of the woman itself is quite small.
A tiny detail like her eyes could be missed, especially when there aren’t many records of it.
I might be mistaken. I may be remembering this wrong… but if I’m right, we’re fucked. Erika and Ingrid even more so.
“Carter, I seem to remember there is an old tale about Venator. It briefly mentions Lady Bournwell. Can you please do some research, find it, and call me as soon as you do,” I tell him as I quickly walk around the desk, grabbing my phone and shooting a quick text before I grab my car keys too.
