Page 9 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
“That’s a great name!” She giggles and turns away.
Holden glowers at me from his impressive height. I’m annoyed that he’s still taller than anyone else I’ve ever met.
Taller than any man missing a personality has any right to be.
It’s just as surprising he isn’t in his James Bond suit today, which was practically his uniform. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so dressed down in a sweater and jeans.
There must be a reason behind it, or maybe he’s managed to mellow out with age.
But when he’s this close, sculpted muscles under that painted-on black sweater, it’s a little much.
The whole package is too much.
I step back as a muscle twitches in his jaw. His gaze flicks to the bleached white stripe in my hair and then down to the hem of my shirt.
His scowl sharpens like a knife.
I bet he’s disgusted that I’m decked out in black but it’s still not formal enough for the big meeting in this mausoleum of ahouse. Or else he’s just sick that he has to lay eyes on me again. He thought it would never happen, I’m sure.
Same, dude. Same.
“Well, I’m glad we’re all acquainted.” Wilkes comes to our rescue in that sleek, professional way.
She must smell the tension. Her face shows no sign.
I half wonder if she served overseas with Holden himself in some war zone before Gramps hired him. She’s the one person on his old payroll who might hold her own with this ogre.
“I appreciate you both accommodating this meeting today. Especially on such short notice in your case, Mr. Verity.”
I step back, mostly to get some more space from Holden. He’s sobighe feels stifling from ten feet away.
Holden nods curtly. “You said this concerns Miss Blackthorn’s inheritance?”
Miss Blackthorn. I wince internally.
That’s also new. I don’t like it.
Even when we were on the worst terms, he’d rip on my name.
Nile Queen.Later shortened to justNile.
Ohhh, I hated it. I half expect him to hit me in the face with it now.
But perhaps he’s trying to show me a sliver of respect. Or else he just doesn’t know what to do with a grown-up Nile Queen who still looks like she’s about to be a very royal pain in his very tight ass.
Miss Blackthorn or not, he sees me as that kid, the spoiled little queen.
Not that I blame him, either. I don’t feel much like a Miss Blackthorn now. Not the kind of Blackthorn who’d fit neatly in PopPop’s larger than life world, and not the disgraced black sheep identity Dad created.
I feel like a Cleo.
“Yes, correct,” Wilkes says. “I’ve already debriefed Miss Blackthorn about her inheritance, so we’re free to move downstairs to view the final piece. This is the one that pertains to you, Mr. Verity.”
Oh yeah, the artwork. I almost forgot with his dramatic entrance.
But why is he here again?
What’s he got to do with some old treasure my grandfather left me?
