bullshit magazine. It’s recent. What the fuck is going on? I watched her die.”
“Relax! It’s not the harpy.” I keep my voice even.
“I’m looking at the picture, and she sure as shit looks like the harpy.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard Lyre sound this uptight.
“I’m telling you,” I say between clenched teeth, “her name is Ashley.” I deliberately don’t give her last name. “She is not the harpy.”
“I’m sorry to have to say this, Bolt, but I’m not sure I can trust you. Either she has a twin, or that bitch isn’t dead. I’m not sure how that would be possible since I saw her die,” he mutters to himself. “Thing is, since meeting Death, I’ve realized it’s not all that cut and dry. Shannon coming back from the dead. As in, she died – no pulse. I happen to know that anything is possible.”
“You can trust me, Lyre. It’s not her. End of story!”
“End of story, my ass! I’m calling a meeting. I suggest you be there.”
“Don’t call a meeting.” I push out a breath.
“It’s not a discussion. Either it’s her, or you’re hooking up with someone who looks exactly like Gabby. I don’t like either option. Option one would be bad for all of us, and option two would be bad for—”
Miss Shaw opens the door and walks into my office. No knock! Her eyes are narrowed. She looks fucked off. “I’ve got to go,” I say.
“No!” Lyre shouts. “Don’t you—” I put the phone down on him and switch it to silent.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” I put my hands in my pockets, trying to act calm. I’m not. “Take a seat, Miss Shaw.”
“I don’t want to sit.” She’s carrying something – a box and the envelope is on top.
“I think you would be more comfortable sitting.” I look down at her heels. It’s another high pair. They make her legs look long and sexy as fuck. “We can talk about it.”
“There isn’t much to talk about. I’m not signing this.” She looks down at the document. Then she walks to my desk and puts the box down. I think there are cupcakes inside it, but I’m not entirely sure. She drops the document on my desk next to the box.
I walk over and glance down. “Cupcakes?” They’re bright red. “Red velvet?” I ask. I don’t recall seeing this color in the display cabinet when I was there last week.
She snorts. “No, red velvet cake has a white cream cheese frosting. I made this specially for you this morning. I felt inspired. Baking helps center me. After reading that NDA, I needed to take several hot baths, and I needed to bake. So, there you go, and you’re welcome.”
“Thank you for the cakes. I’m glad they’re still in one piece and not smeared all over my chest.”
She stares daggers at me. Shit. This is worse than I thought. “I told you that every aspect of that agreement is up for negotiation. What are the stumbling blocks?” I keep my eyes on hers.
“Did you hire me with the intention of turning me into your whore?” Her eyes blaze.
I frown. “Whore?” I shake my head. “That was never my intention. I assure you.”
“That document says different. Just tell me, when you hired me, were you planning on sleeping with me? Or trying to sleep with me, because it’s not going to happen!”
A thrill runs through me. I don’t think a woman has ever turned me down. Even the shifter females. They didn’t particularly like me. They weren’t interested in a relationship with me, but I could get into their panties if I wanted to. This is the first time I’ve had a ‘no’. I don’t like it, and yet it excites me too. For once in my life, I’m going to have to work for it. I might even have to walk over hot coals to get Miss Shaw into my bed. Good thing I like heat.
“I was instantly attracted to you, but to answer your question, no, I had no intention of sleeping with you. That quickly changed. I liked that you turned my offer down. It showed guts. I loved how honest you were when it came down to it. When you plastered frosting all over my chest, I was a goner. I—”
“That was a mistake.” She puts her hands on her hips, and her jaw tightens.
“It doesn’t matter, Miss Shaw. Accident or no, I could only think of smearing frosting all over