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“Who are you?” I repeat.
My eyes are drawn to her slender neck as I watch her throat muscles contract as she swallows. Her eyes blink twice from behind black-rimmed glasses. She clears her throat and gives her head a little shake. “I’m Isabelle Garren. I’ve been trying to contact you about—”
I wave my hand. “Not interested,” I growl. I feel the anger pulsing through my veins. Why in the hell did my staff let her in here?
“Mr. Wellington, if you would just hear me out,” she begins as she steps toward my desk. Her dog, or at least I suspect the dog is hers because it sure as fuck isn’t mine, that has been rolling around on my floor, gets up and walks over to her. She pats his head and looks at me. “I’m the town librarian and I would like to borrow some of your first-edition books for a special exhibit.”
You have got to be fucking kidding me. This woman is here for some damn books.
I can’t help the sound that escapes my throat. It comes out as a low growl of disgust. “Get out,” I say in a barely audible whisper from behind clenched teeth.
She shuffles her weight from one foot to the other but doesn’t move. Then she crosses her arms and glares at me.
“No,” she says. “Not until you agree to loan me your books.”
“Get the hell out of here,” I say more loudly than before.
“No,” she repeats.
I slam my hand on my desk, and she gives a little jump but still doesn’t move. I walk around my desk, and as I do, Ames and Isaac walk in front of her and sit. Their low growls startle me.
Her lips curl up into a smirk. Something about that awakens my cock. Nothing has awakened that beast in ages. Why is this mess of a woman affecting my body? I don’t like it.
“I don’t accept solicitors at my residence,” I restate as I cross my arms, mirroring her stance. I glare down at her. She’s tiny, barely over five feet tall. Her small stature has a memory creeping into the recesses of my brain. I quickly bat it away. I’m not going to let myself dwell on things that can’t be.
“Well, it’s a good thing that I’m not a solicitor. As I was saying, I’m the librarian at the—”
“Yeah, I got that. I don’t care. Get out,” I say, pointing to the door.
Her jaw clenches and she narrows her eyes. “If you would just give me the books, I will be happily on my way.”
I laugh. “That’s your pitch? Seriously?”
I see her chest rise and fall on a deep breath. “No, but you don’t seem like someone who can be reasoned with.”
“I can be reasoned with,” I assure her.
She raises one dark eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes. You just aren’t very persuasive.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, you aren’t a very good host.”
“I didn’t invite you into my home. You’re trespassing,” I state dryly.
She groans. “Is lending a few books really that big of a deal?” she asks as she looks around my office and motions to our surroundings with her hands. “I’m pretty sure that you won’t miss them, and they’ll be back here before you know it.”
“Still no,” I say as I step around her and my dogs, and motion for her to leave my office.
“We can provide signage indicating that the Wellington family has lent them to the library,” she adds.
“Yeah, guess who’s still not interested.” I point to my chest and then back toward the hallway. I look out into the hall, wondering where my staff are. I pull out my phone and see two missed text messages.
Ms. Potter: Your evening meal is in the warmer in the kitchen, per your request. Mr. Potter and I are leaving for the evening. I’ve shown your visitor into the parlor. Please, call if you need me.
Bastian: (five laughing emojis) You have a visitor. (five laughing emojis)
That fucker. Bastian is lucky that I consider him a friend, or his ass would be fired.
