Blood of Zeus (Blood of Zeus #1) - Meredith Wild Page 0,5
Kristy is wearing a bigger grin and a lot less clothing. She and Misty nudge their way through the crowd inside Recto Verso. Jesse and I have already staked our claim on one of the store’s back corners, the area Sarah and Reg have set up as an LA-infused ode to their home country. There are a couple of mismatched love seats in front of a marble fireplace that’s never used and a tall cabinet full of British knick-knacks mixed with sparkly Hollywood curios.
We’re happy to grab a spot in front of the mantel’s stone pillars and watch the parade of humanity proceeding toward the opposite corner of the store. Other event guests are clustered among the small reading nooks, book-themed sculptures, and tunnels formed of book “bricks” that lead to the area where Melora Hall is posing for photo ops. The leather spines of the novel collectors’ section provide a sophisticated backdrop for the author, a lovely woman with big green eyes and mocha skin who greets everyone with the same charm and affection.
“Hi!” Misty greets us in a breathless rush—good thing, since the woman probably shouldn’t inhale too hard tonight. Like Kristy, the woman appears to have been poured into her black cocktail dress.
“Well hello there, yourself.” Jesse’s comment is dotted with surprise, likely due to the full-mouth-press Misty’s just leaned over and bestowed. “You look gorgeous.”
“Why thank you, sir.” Misty giggles, but her expression flattens when some flashbulbs pop, drawing her attention to the celebrity across the room. “Oh my freaking God.” She grabs Jesse’s hand and twists it in a thousand directions. “Melora Hall is really here!”
Jesse laughs. I join him. Though I’m counting the seconds until it’s appropriate to slip away and hide out in Sarah’s office for the rest of the night, the excitement in the air is a little contagious.
As if my thoughts have conjured her, a welcome sight of a woman seems to materialize from the middle of the throng. “Just wait until you see the rest of the crowd,” she says in a distinct London clip.
The sound of that accent alone is enough to ease my nervousness. Tonight, Sarah—the woman who’s been running my favorite bookstore for as long as I can remember—is dressed in a pastel pink sweater paired with gray tights and prismatic Doc Martens. There’s a single streak of darker pink at the front of her otherwise silver hair. She’s the only woman on the planet who exudes English schoolmarm and ex–punk rocker at the same time.
“Misty and Kristy, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to Ms. Sarah Reitz-Nikian,” Jesse says. “She’s one half of the kick-ass couple who own this place.”
Kristy smiles. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“And you as well, m’dear,” Sarah answers.
But a similar greeting doesn’t spill out of Misty. We’re all curious onlookers as the woman’s jaw nearly plummets to the floor. “S-S-Sorry,” she finally spurts. “I’m—I’m so sorry. But holy crap, you weren’t kidding about the crowd!”
“What?” Kristy leans over, using the motion as an excuse to slide her hand across my stomach. “What is it, honey?”
“Not a what,” Misty counters. “A who. Oh, holy shit. I think it’s really her.”
“Who?” Kristy pushes at my ribs, seeming to need me for balance as she tiptoes on her stiletto shoes. “Where?”
“Right there!”
“Where? Oh, wait. Now I see. Oh my word!”
Out of pure curiosity, I follow their gawks to the classics section with which I’m so familiar.
I recognize her instantly because the vision of her hasn’t stopped tormenting my imagination for the last twenty-four hours. Not her sweet face. Not her petite body that I have no business sizing up the way I did once we were alone in my classroom.
“I can’t believe it.” Kristy gasps. “It’s Kara Valari. I can’t remember the last time she’s made a public appearance.”
I pull in a hard breath through my nose, struggling for a way to distract the two women who should be focused on the event’s headliner starlet, not the reclusive beauty belonging to one of Hollywood’s most notorious dynasties. Because if I’m wagering any guesses from her unremarkable outfit, Miss Valari isn’t here for a photo op.
“What do you think she’s doing here?” Misty utters with starstruck awe.
Sarah crosses her arms and peers over her shoulder. “Her sister, Kell, is quite good friends with many of the guests tonight, especially Ms. Hall. She’s around here somewhere too.”
I think Kristy might stroke out with this news. She unpeels herself from me and reattaches herself to Misty. They crane