Bait N' Witch (Brimstone Inc. #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,4

you will arrange to take them to various educational activities. Sundays, they visit their grandparents. That is your day off.”

He glanced at her jeans, long-sleeved white T-shirt, and sneakers. “I expect you to dress appropriately at all times.”

Glancing at his own immaculate gray pants and ironed button-down all tucked in, she surmised he meant more formal than jeans. She pictured her limited wardrobe—she’d been a prisoner for some time, and, since her release, hiding out for months, after all. She gave a mental groan. This job just got better and better.

“I’ll go shopping this weekend,” she murmured.

“Excellent.” He flicked a glance at his watch. “I will be in my office the rest of the day. I suggest you get settled and get to know the girls.”

What kind of father spent Saturday working when it sounded as though he barely saw his children during the week? “Fine.”

“Any questions?”

“Which room is mine?”

Despite the extra sugar she’d imbued in the words, he still narrowed his eyes. Was her sarcasm leaking through?

“Yours is the only bedroom in the basement.”

Relegated to the basement, which told her exactly where she stood in this family. Good thing ghosts didn’t tend to haunt her.

He paused in turning away to cast her a final assessing look. “Dinner is at seven.”

“And not a second later,” she muttered under her breath. Jeez, this guy was wound tighter than a pocket watch.

He gave her a hard stare, which she returned with a guileless expression that apparently had no effect on him.

“You may call me Mr. Masters.” With that, the infuriating man turned and calmly left the room.

His imperious tone decided it for her. She was going to enjoy thwarting this arrogant warlock at his own game.

Chapter Two

Rowan breathed a tiny bit easier in Greyson’s absence, a reaction she put down to who he was, rather than to her odd attraction to the man. No way was she giving that any legitimacy. The spark was magical—and not in a metaphoric sense. Powerful witches and warlocks gave off a sort of electric charge. She’d cast a spell to mask hers and hopefully make him think her powers more minimal than they were. But that didn’t mean she was unaffected by his aura.

Already she was regretting coming at all. What had Delilah been thinking?

Strangely, Rowan trusted Delilah. Other than Tanya, the demon who’d raised her after her parents died and had trained her in magic, no one else had come close to gaining her trust like that, which is why she’d agreed to the crazy plan.

Not for the first time, she questioned her reasoning.

Pulling her gaze from where Greyson Masters had disappeared, she glanced down and realized she was rubbing at her wrist, where he’d shocked her earlier. The spot still tingled, a warmth pulsing in tune to her heart, though the burning sensation had let up.

What on earth was that?

Raising her hand to inspect her skin more closely, she discovered a faint white line in the center of the heat. Nuts and gnomes. I don’t need anything else happening.

“Are you really going to leave us like this?” a small voice sounded from behind her, pulling her focus away from her wrist.

Spinning around, she faced down her new charges—three miniature witches who watched her with wary curiosity. Rowan didn’t see three wayward girls she had no idea how to control. Instead, three little girls who needed attention and love tugged at her heart. She knew because she’d seen that look before. Her own parents, from the little she could remember, had been equally focused on her magic more than on her as a person who needed cuddles and bedtime stories.

Things had changed with Tanya. She may have adopted Rowan, but she was the only true mother she’d ever known.

She gave the girls a gentle smile. “You got yourselves into it. You can get yourselves out.”

Rowan had to hold in a laugh at the disgruntled expressions tipped toward her direction.

“I need to get my bags and unpack.” At the doorway she paused and stuck her head back in the room. Two and a half sets of wide eyes, with a touch of resentment now, stared back at her. She gave her head a jerk. “Come on, then.”

She left shaggy, blondie, and baldy eyeing each other on the couch and headed outside. Not much to gather—exactly one suitcase, bag and clothing both provided by Delilah. They couldn’t risk going back to Rowan’s place to get her stuff, not with Greyson hunting her. The Syndicate might not know