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Fuck priorities and making scenes, and fuck Gideon Black. All I want is Skye.
15
SKYE
Every step I take toward the ladies’ room is an agonizing testament to the fact that I’m in so much shock, I can’t properly react. If I could, I’d be shaking so badly, walking would be impossible.
Gideon Black is here. He somehow managed to break through the fortress that is Maxton House and sit at Arran’s table, looking happy as a clam. Like the cocky billionaire who belongs there.
Was it a show of power for Arran’s benefit or mine? Did he come to threaten him somehow, or to remind me that I still have a task and his patience is wearing thin?
“I never do anything without an insurance policy.”
He was talking about Maisie, I’m sure of it.
It doesn’t matter. The fact that he was able to come here without a problem tells me how resourceful he is. If I don’t manage to get what he wants from me, there’s no place far enough to hide.
I enter the bathroom and go straight for the sink, turn on the faucet, and splash water on my face. So what that my makeup might get messy? I’m too flustered to care.
God, the way Gideon watched me with amusement sent a shiver down my spine I still can’t dispel. Like I was a little bug he was playing with and could squash at any moment. A single word from him to let Arran know that I’m his spy, and it would have been over for me. He wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Arran would kill me himself.
Or would he?
My hand begins to shake as I peer at it. It’s the one he engulfed with his large one, as if he sensed my distress at the table. Just moments earlier, he’d placed his body defensively between Gideon and me.
If he were to find out about my arrangement with his enemy, would he throw me out? Or would he still see me ashis. Something to guard and protect. It is possible he views me as his enemy now yet still shielded me?
A glint of light in my reflection catches my attention. It’s the collar, twinkling prettily. A cold reminder that regardless of how possessive Arran might be when it comes to me, I’ll never be anything more than an actual possession to him. And possessions are easily discarded.
Tearing a paper towel out of the holder, I dab water droplets off my face and smooth the waves in my hair.
A woman enters the restroom, and immediately, her eyes meet mine in the mirror. By the way she’s dressed, I assume she’s one of the hostesses. “Is your name Skye Cameron?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Maxton asked me to come check on you. Is everything all right?”
My brows pinch together. “It is. He’s the one who sent me here. He needed a minute alone with a client.”
Now it’s her turn to frown. “Uh. Well, he’s asked that I show you to the admin office when you’re finished. He’s waiting there for you.”
I smile at her. “I’m done now.”
After one last glimpse at myself, I follow her out. She makes a left, moving away from the auction, which, from the sound of it, is now in full swing.
“Sixth Dynasty, Egyptian gold falcon vessel, listed as number four hundred ten in the catalogue. Item is considered lost, and listing rules must be followed,” the auctioneer calls loudly. “Bidding starts at one hundred thousand…”
“The last door to the right,” the woman indicates, stopping midway.
“Thank you.” I continue on down the hall to the room Arran is waiting for me in. I knock and listen for the muffled order to enter before doing so. “The amount of money in this place is ins—”
A hand clamps over my mouth the moment I step foot inside. The door is slammed shut behind me, and then I’m being unceremoniously pushed farther in until my ass hits a desk.
“Hello, beautiful.”
My eyes widen in horror as I realize it’s not Arran who was waiting for me at all. But Landon.
He smiles and his handsome features distort, like the Joker effect someone achieves from putting a flashlight under their face. I’ve never been fond of clowns, and this takes it to a whole new level of terrifying.
