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A way in. And if I discover Jackson did kill my father, she’ll not only become my prey.
She’ll be my sweetest revenge.
5
EMILY
Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
I stop with my foot on the first step of the stairs that lead to the offices, my hand on the iron rail, and peer over my shoulder.
How could I not when I sense his gaze on me so intensely, he might as well be touching me?
Noah.
He’s standing where I left him. And I was right. He’s still staring my way.
His eyes seem to glow against his tan skin as he sends a wolfish grin my way, and my heart almost comes to a complete stop.
There’s something a little scary about the way he watches me. Almost as if he knows me. Like he can see inside me and pluck every thought from my mind before I can even think it. Like he can intuit my desires before I feel them.
Could he grant them too?
A delicious shiver runs through me at the thought. Yes, definitely scary. And exciting.
I smile back and nod before ascending to the second floor.
There are six rooms up here. The three to the right are used as work spaces and storage, the two to the left are bedrooms of sorts. Places where we can stay during overnight projects. The one just at the top of the stairs is an office Dad and I share.
Usually, the door is left wide open. But tonight, it seems the conversation he wants to have with me is a private one. I can already surmise what he wants to discuss.
The sexy-as-hell man with the honey-colored eyes that could melt any woman’s heart. Not to mention her panties right off her ass.
Shit. I’m always so careful about letting my father see when I find a man attractive. It’s not that difficult to do. Control my breathing. Relax. Slow my heart rate so that my pale skin doesn’t show me blushing.
This time, it was different.
When I saw Noah across the room, he seemed like a cute guy in distress. Although he was dressed the part of an art aficionado—someone who frequents these events, with a black-on-black suit that was obviously tailored and expensive, dark hair combed back, his five o’clock shadow perfectly trimmed—I could immediately tell he had no idea what he was looking at.
He titled his head as he studied the piece. Shifted his weight from foot to foot. It was like a confused puppy trying to figure out what a human was telling him.
I watched him from a distance for a little while, wondering who he was and what he was doing here. By now, I recognize most of the faces that come through our doors. Not his.
While everyone else gathered in groups to discuss their opinions about a piece, he remained a beautiful loner among them.
Maybe that’s what drew me to him. Or it could be that I found him insanely handsome. Or perhaps he stood out in a crowd of the same bland people and it piqued my curiosity.
Whatever it was, it was like a tether had snaked itself around me and pulled me to him so smoothly that I didn’t even notice it happening. One moment, I was across the room. The next, I had my feet planted right beside him.
Maybe itwascuriosity. I wondered why he’d stood there in front of the painting for so long, seemingly searching for something. Did he want so desperately to see what wasn’t there? Or did he see something I didn’t?
I wanted to know.
“What do you see?” I asked.
“I’m reminded of…” He spoke in a voice so deep, it had me turning from the painting to stare at his profile. The straight nose, the fullness of his lower lip. “It’s just so vividly raw. Like an open wound.”
What he said struck me as funny and I laughed. I was definitely right. He had no idea what he was looking at.
