Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Toward the back of the entrance loomed a large mahogany reception counter where two women waited. An older quintessential grandmother type with curly salt and pepper hair, and a young, pink-haired stunner paler than Isobel. I thought I remembered seeing both at the after-wedding party.
Did they know Callen was a berserker? Were they, perhaps, fated mates of other berserkers? Or were they unsuspecting mortals?
Phones rang in the background as Callen and I approached. Both ladies popped to their feet with a smart device in one grip and a cup of coffee in the other. Pinkie eyed my casual clothing with a wee bit of derision. Favored her designer dress, did she? Meanwhile, the older woman revealed nothing.
We soared past the pair. As we did so, Callen claimed a coffee. Both women followed on our heels, their smart devices at the ready.
Pinkie thrust her coffee in my direction. For me? I accepted with a confused, “Thank you?” He’d called ahead? They’d known I was coming?
Callen tossed orders left and right. A list of the people he wanted contacted. Attachments he expected to find in his inbox. A “derg” he sought to be delivered by the end of the day.
Our onlookers took turns muttering, “Aye.”
We passed roughly fifty other employees, each sitting at a desk or rushing from here to there. Anyone in our path scrambled off. A few blatantly looked me over. Others tried to be more covert. I nodded and smiled at all because what else could I do? Callen’s fast clip kept me from sipping my drink.
Windowed walls framed a waiting room with multiple bookshelves, two couches, and a coffee table. A large fifty-something man with a heavily scarred face perched behind a reception desk. He noticed Callen, stood and nodded.
Callen ushered me past him, down a hallway, and through a self-automated glass door. We entered a private office with modern furnishings and a minimalist vibe. There were no portraits. No knickknacks. Nothing personal of any kind anywhere. Just electronics positioned across the desk.
I might have cringed a bit. “This is where you spend the bulk of your days?” It was nothing like the castle, which I preferred. Here, the few chairs provided the thinnest cushions. “No wonder you’re always in a bad mood.”
“I’m not always in a bad mood,” he grumbled, holding out a chair in front of the clear desk and motioning me over.
“What is it you do, exactly?” The question slipped out before I could plug into my common sense and download Is This A Smart Thing To Say software. I eased into the chair, and yes, it was as uncomfortable as I’d suspected.
“I ensure my money is making money.” He sat behind the desk and got busy on a call, seeming to forget my very existence.
I sipped my coffee and grimaced. Gross! No milk or sugar.
“Is something wrong with the coffee?” he asked. So he hadn’t lost sight of me, after all. Interesting.
“I like it sweet and creamy.”
“Since when?”
Argh! See! I needed to download that software ASAP. “Since today.”
I placed the cup near a stack of papers and rose. No way I could perch here the rest of the day without something to do. “I’m gonna make myself at home.”
Not awaiting his permission, I ambled over to the bookshelves. Only a handful of books lined the shelves, but oh, oh, oh! A history of berserkers. Finally! I snatched it up, only to blink with confusion. Did he seriously keep a book chronicling his cloak-and-dagger immortal origins out in the open? The daring required for such an act staggered me.
Or did some part of him want people to realize the truth?
“Expecting a quiz?” Callen asked, his warm breath fanning over my nape.
Gasping, I spun and came face to face with him. My heart drummed. He stood directly in front of me, his hands stuffed in his pockets. How had I not heard him move?
“Why? Is class in session, Professor Bruce?” A flush sizzled in my cheeks. Had I used a flirty tone? I’d used a flirty tone, hadn’t I?
I began to look away, but he caught me by the chin. A gentle but implacable clutch. Our gazes locked, and I gulped. He searched my eyes. With the pad of his thumb, he traced the seam of my bottom lip as he’d done to his own.
My pulse jumped. What was happening here? Why would he… Why did I… Should we…
“You want to be friends, lass?” His soft tone washed over me, stroking my nerve endings.
I didn’t mean to, but I stepped closer. “I—”
“Da!” a sweet, excited voice proclaimed.
Surprise overtook Callen’s features as he released me and whipped around. In the open doorway stood a grinning little girl with silky black hair, big blue eyes, and a frilly pink dress. She clutched a doll to her chest.
Startled, I froze. Callen’s gaze darted to me, and he stiffened. As he refocused on the child, however, his demeanor transformed. From full of dread to total adoration. He smiled a genuine smile that softened his entire face and stole my breath.