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Since then, she’d made it her mission to help scorned and mistreated women out of their relationships, and over time, that had expanded to helping people of all genders find their wayintohealthier unions. And if a partner turned toxic or abusive… Well, she was still more than happy to help with that.
I skimmed over the text again. Why did I have a feeling we were here to see Rhiannon? Because a matchmaker who also moonlighted in terrorizing and disappearing abusers seemed like someone who’d need a lawyer from time to time.
And now that I thought about it… maybe she had room in her client list? Because as much as I didn’t want to tangle with the fae—especially not a Welsh lake maiden turned vigilante—desperate times called for desperate measures.
I glanced at Matt.
At the demon fidgeting on his shoulder and being loudly bored by way of harsh sighs and the odd “bloody hell.”
Okay, maybe I didn’t need to be hiring the fae. Not for this. Not for anything.
A solid ninety minutes after we’d arrived in this waiting room—long enough I was pretty sure one of the vines had actually stretched a few inches closer to one of the shelves—Matt’s phone pinged.
He checked it, then rose. “That’s her. Let’s go.”
My heart started pounding as I followed him into the back. This was it. If she wouldn’t help Matt, then… Well, then I had no idea what Plan B was.
He pushed open the door, which led us into a hallway with four doors on either side. Another plant like the one in the waiting room stood in a huge black pot, its vines stretching up the walls, across the ceiling, down the opposite walls. Flowers and leaves hung low enough that Matt had to duck his head slightly to avoid them. I’m a little shorter than him, so I didn’t need to duck, but I did anyway just out of an irrational certainty one of the vines would try to grab me. What could I say? I’d spent enough time around tricksters to be wary of everything in their spaces. Even Raziel and Andras seemed to give the dangling plants a wide berth, so maybe it wasn’t so irrational after all.
At the third door on the left, Matt halted. He put his hand up to knock, but paused, closed his eyes, and worked his jaw for a few seconds. Then he pushed a breath out through his nose, opened his eyes, and knocked sharply.
The door swung inward. Matt and I trooped inside, and—
Whoa. This wasn’t what I’d expected.
While the rest of the suite was dripping in plant life, this office was jarringly sterile and monochrome. Every surface—a desk, a file cabinet, and two shelves—was gleaming white. Two books stood on one of the shelves. A Bonsai tree sat on the file cabinet. The desk was bare apart from a single fountain pen beside a leatherbound book and a white, steaming mug on a black coaster.
And behind the desk, dressed in a sharp, black pantsuit, sat a dark-eyed white woman with freckles across her nose and startlingly copper hair tumbling over her shoulders. The corners of her mouth rose slightly, hovering in that space between a smile and a smirk.
Matt gazed down at her. Voice taut, he gritted out, “Bridget.”
She dipped her chin slightly as her ambiguous expression shifted to a more distinct smile. “Mr. Russo.” Her eyes flicked to, I assumed, the angel and demon. “Raziel. Andras.”
“Hello, ma’am,” Raziel chirped with way too much cheer.
Andras just grumbled something in the ballpark of a greeting.
Her intense eyes shifted to me, and I couldn’t help standing a bit straighter. She pursed her lips as she studied me, but after a beat or two, the smile returned. “You must be Mr. Russo’s neighbor.”
Matt and I both jumped.
“Huh?” I asked.
He cocked his head. “How… How do you know who he is?”
The smile came fully to life but didn’t exactly add any warmth to her expression. “I know a lot of things. Now.” She gestured at the pair of stark white chairs in front of her desk. “Why don’t you have a seat so we can get down to business?”
Matt and I exchanged glances. Then we both sat. I couldn’t say the hard, weirdly angled chair was particularly comfortable, but it was probably the least of our concerns right now.
Andras sat on Matt’s shoulder, this time with his hands behind him and his head lolling to one side, looking for all the world like a kid who was bored senseless. Why was it so tempting to reach over and knock him off? Probably because he seemed to think this was all just an inconvenience and no big deal. Meanwhile my Saturday had been thrown off the rails. And that was to say nothing of how this was all affecting Matt.
“So.” Bridget sat up and folded her long fingers on her bright white desk. Even her nails were painted white. “What can I do for you, Mr. Russo?”
“I need to do something about”—Matt gestured at each of his shoulders—“them.”
Nodding slowly, she spoke with what sounded like exaggerated concern, “I see.” Then she flipped open her leather book, revealing what appeared to be a ledger. After leafing through a few pages, she stopped on one and ran her finger down to a particular line. “Well, this is what we agreed to, yes?” She met his gaze across the desk again. “You wanted my help finding a companion.”
Matt’s cheeks colored, and he sighed as he rolled his eyes. “How exactly are they going to help me find someone?”
