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I wonder who she is.
I’m not sure why, but it’s as if that was a pivotal moment because something is telling me my reaction is unusual. She was a pretty girl, that is undeniable, but it was her reaction that intrigued me.
Ignoring everyone who nods in my direction, I storm to my office and as Saint follows me inside, I say gruffly. “That girl with Gabriella. I want to know everything about her. Who she is, why she’s here and what her business is with Miss. Sinclair?”
Saint nods and leaves, no opinion offered, and as I shrug out of my jacket and hang it on the hanger in the cupboard, I can’t prevent my thoughts from returning to the intriguing woman downstairs.
The only comfort I have is that Saint will have everything I need before my coffee arrives in approximately ten minutes time. What I do with that information, though, remains to be seen.
CHAPTER5
PURITY
Ihave never seen anything like it before. It was as if God himself walked into the reception. Before they arrived, there was a general murmur that echoed through the building. Almost as if the occupants were preparing for an approaching storm and so, as the door opened and four men entered, my eye was drawn there at once.
It was like a scene from a movie as two men dressed all in black came through it first, closely followed by another man who was walking beside one that definitely stood out from the crowd.
He is important.
It’s obvious just from the reverent glances thrown his way and the hushed awe that surrounded him.
I am intrigued and fascinated and can’t help staring, even though I know it’s considered rude. It is more surprising when he stares back and as our eyes connect, a shiver ripples down my spine as if ice enters my veins.
He takes my breath away but not from desire. It’s fear because those eyes have a million hard stories locked inside them. I can see them swirling around as if jostling for position and yet I could drown in those eyes. They are so dark, deep and filled with torture, and I wonder what sort of life is the result of such madness. I am mesmerized and only break eye contact when the woman I came to see blocks the view and stares at me with curiosity.
“Purity?”
She smiles with interest, but no recognition, and I stand awkwardly, offering her my hand.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Miss. Sinclair. Thank you for asking me to come.”
“I’m confused.”
She steps away because it’s obvious she doesn’t recollect our meeting and my heart sinks.
“You gave me this.” I uncurl my hand and wince at the appearance of the worn card that lies on my outstretched palm and say quickly. “You came to meet my father, Elijah Sanders, from Heaven.” I falter, suddenly unsure of what I’ve done, and she cocks her head to one side as if she’s thinking. Then she smiles and nods.
“Of course. I remember now. You have grown since then. I hardly recognized you.”
“It was four years ago, ma’am, and I kept your card.”
“Wow, that’s amazing.”
She chuckles softly. “So, how can I help?”
“Um …” I falter slightly because this isn’t what I imagined. To be honest, I don’t know what I expected but certainly not indifference.
“A job.” The words come out in a rush, and I say without catching a breath. “You, um, told me that if I was in Chicago to look you up. You would help me and make sure I was looked after. That you had a job with my name on it and the possibilities were endless for a girl like me.”
“I remember.” She appears almost amused as a spark lights her eyes and she looks me up and down.
“Turn around, Miss. Sanders.”
“Excuse me.”
I’m unsure what she means, and I detect a hint of steel in her voice as she snaps, “I said, turn around. I need to look at you.”
Slowly, I do as she says and for some reason, I don’t like how it makes me feel, especially when I catch the expressions on the faces of the people standing nearby watching the scene with interest.
