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His features harden. Then, to my surprise, he nods.
I blink. Wow, did he just admit his plans are not going as they should. Our gazes meet and hold. Those blue eyes of his darken to that indigo I know so well. The indigo that’s haunted my dreams and appears in my mind’s eye every time I close my eyes. The air between us thickens. Unsaid emotions seem to lace the molecules around us.
Someone clears their throat. I glance in the direction of the door to find Giorgina lurking inside the threshold.
She nods in Harry's direction. I turn around, and the guilty look on his face intensifies. "You planned this with her?" I snap.
"I, uh… Trust me when I say, it was important to get the two of you together in a room."
I draw myself up to my full height. "I thought I could trust you, Harry. I—"
"Don’t blame him; this was my idea."
I turn on him. "You could have just called me instead of going to this length."
"Would you have spoken to me?"
I glance away, then shake my head.
"That’s what I thought."
He looks past me at Harry and says, "Leave us."
Without a single protest, Harry uses his stumpy legs to propel himself past us and to the door.
Giorgina nods at me, then follows him out. The door snicks shut. I look past him at the door. I should leave. If I stay here, he’s going to influence me into agreeing with whatever scheme he’s come up with.
"Just a few minutes, Rabbit; that’s all I’m asking for."
I huff.
"Please?"
I jerk my chin in his direction. "Excuse me, did you just say what I think you did?"
He chuckles. "Surprised?"
"You’re saying the P-word, but I’m sure you don’t mean it."
The smile vanishes from his face. "Just five minutes of your time; that’s all I’m asking for."
"And if I don’t agree?"
"You’ll always regret it. You’ll wish you heard me out because, in your heart of hearts, you know you want to hear what I have to say."
"What doyouknow about my heart of hearts?"
He looks down but seems to be at a loss for words.
I blow out a breath, then turn and stomp over to the sofa on the far side of the room. Harry might be a shyster, but his office is comfortably furnished. And it should be, considering the money he’s made off of me. As has the label. I throw myself into the sofa.
Declan follows me more slowly and takes the seat across from me. His lips quirk, and there’s a look on his face I can’t quite interpret.
"What?" I scowl.
"I like what you’ve done to your hair," he murmurs.
"You mean the color?" I wind a strand of blue hair around my finger. His gaze follows the movement, and his throat moves as he swallows. Apparently, he’s as affected by my presence as I am by his. And that shouldn’t surprise me. Chemistry is the one thing we’ve never had a problem with. It’s everything outside of that which never seems to line up. "I’d already colored it when we met at Cade and Abby’s wedding."
