Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Handsome enough, but grim.
He’s almost posed in front of the window. The light coming through the sheer curtains gilds his razor edges and shines off the corners of a small silver box he holds up, inspecting it with laser focus. His icy-blond hair is short and swept back from his face. His pale jade-green eyes are sunken hollows that glow like embers in their shadowed sockets.
There’s also something unsettling about him.
Something heavy that instantly makes me think of a caged animal trapped inside the deep-grey gloss of his finely tailored suit. It ages him, years beyond a man who must not be any older than his thirties.
Xavier Arrendell needs no introduction, though.
“Um.” I open my mouth and stop.
I glance at the valet—but he’s gone.
Just vanished into thin air, leaving me alone with a man I don’t know how to talk to without the buffer of his parents.
But that little sound I gulp out makes him jerk.
He stiffens, his cold eyes cutting toward me, watching me like a snake before he turns slowly, setting the box down on his desk with controlled poise.
“Who are you?” he bites off. His voice is full of cultured disdain behind a broken rasp.
I swallow hard.
Do not panic.
Do not panic.
I should be grateful, really. In theory, one rich guy seems easier to face down than three, but with the rumors about the Arrendell brothers… I’m not sure I want to be alone with him.
I clutch the portfolio folder so tight my fingers dig in.
“Hi, I’m T-Talia Grey. From A Touch of Grey. Y-you requested an appointment.”
“I requested an appointment with Gerald Grey,” he retorts. “Not his…” He pauses and those vicious eyes rake me slowly. “Not his apprentice.”
That stokes my temper, enough to straighten my spine.
“I’m not his apprentice,” I correct sharply. “I’m his partner, and I manage most of the day-to-day operations. Plus, many of our more difficult custom orders. If my expertise isn’t good enough, then you’re welcome to find another artisan to do your work. But my grandfather is dealing with a work injury, and he won’t be attending today.”
It's not quite the truth, but I’m trying to salvage Grandpa’s pride.
Xavier gives me a long, withering look like he’s just waiting for me to crumble.
Honestly, he might get his way if my chest gets any tighter. I force myself to breathe slowly, the way I learned a long time ago.
I’m not having an asthma attack in front of a potential client.
I have my pride to worry about, too.
After holding that look for too long, though, Xavier clicks his tongue dismissively and looks away. “Come inside and shut the door.”
I let out an explosive breath and cross the threshold into the lushly furnished office. It’s a little overdone, if you ask me. But I hesitate as I turn back to grip the doorknob, glancing at him.
“Does the door have to be closed?”
He meets my eyes again.
Something sharpens in his gaze, and for the first time, he smiles.
I’m sure a lot of people are charmed by that look. It’s confident and oddly hungry as he gives me another once-over.
But to me, I just see a hyena.
Unpredictable and wild. Possibly one second away from lunging at my face with snapping teeth.
I shudder as he asks, “Are you afraid to be alone with me, Miss Grey? My family’s reputation must precede me.”
“No, I…” I stop right there. I feel foolish. This is silly and I’m overreacting. “I just thought I’d be meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Arrendell.”
“Ah, yes. My parents are out of town. Vacationing in Sicily. Grieving, I should say.” He sobers, that bitter smile falling away with a sigh. “They left me in charge of the estate for a few months while they try to forget the loss of my brothers by burying themselves in palazzos and pasta.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. That was rude of me.” I flush wildly and shut the door. “I’m sincerely sorry for your loss.”
“Yes, well…” He looks away sharply, his eyes glassy as they fix on the window. “That’s why I called you here, isn’t it?” He’s a bit more crisp and businesslike as he turns his back on me, gesturing to one of the chairs opposite his desk before folding his hands behind his back. “Please, Miss Grey. Take a seat.”
“I don’t understand.” Frowning, I sink down into the chair and put my purse on the floor, clutching the portfolio in my lap.
“This manor has been trapped in time for generations,” Xavier says. “It hasn’t changed a bit since before I was born. Decades of dead lives and dead people entombed in these halls. Shadows and shades haunting the place. Wretched fucking memories. The kind that chased my parents away and make living here a pain I can’t describe.”
Oof.
Without seeing his hyena face, it’s hard not to feel the pain in his voice.