Dark Secret - Avelyn Paige Page 0,18
lip, it’s important.” Shelby releases her lip, and it’s red. Redder than I’ve ever seen it before.
“Come on, we’re going to be late.” Dismissing my hesitation, she charges forward and through the darkened glass doors. With a shake of my head, I tag along behind her until she stops at the reception desk in the center of the room.
“Name, please?” the perky little brunette behind the desk asks, her eyes growing wide when she notices me standing behind Shelby. I’ve seen that look a dozen times before. She’s hungry for something a little more dangerous, something off her normal menu. Shelby’s body tenses ever so slightly, and had I not been paying more attention to her than the little brunette, I would have missed it. Too bad for her, she isn’t on my radar, but she’s now on Shelby’s.
“Dawson. I’m here to see K—I mean, Mrs. Stratford. We have an appointment.”
“One moment, please.” Her fingers click over the keyboard, but her eyes linger on me for a few seconds longer before she peers at her screen. “Ah, yes. Her assistant called earlier with instructions for you to meet Mrs. Stratford in her private conference room. She should be joining you momentarily. Just take the elevator to the top floor.” She points a finger to the elevators, left of the reception hall. “Or, if you’d like a personal escort, I’d be happy to take you up.”
“No,” Shelby nearly growls, but quickly covers it up. “We can manage it on our own.” She turns to look at me over her shoulder before heading toward the aforementioned elevators. Her red, manicured finger presses against the button to call it at least a half a dozen times. I stifle a chuckle under my breath, but she catches me and scowls.
The elevator dings when it arrives. Once the doors slide open, we both step inside, silence encasing the small space between us as she bounces nervously on her heels.
“Still don’t like elevators?” I take a step closer to her, decreasing the space between us. “What if I do this?” I hop into the air, and she squeals when I land.
“You know how much I hate that, Wyatt.”
“Just trying to lighten the mood, sweetheart.” I shrug. “After that display of yours in the lobby, I thought you could use a laugh.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Oh, yes you do. She can try to hide it all she wants, but there’s still something there, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. “I just didn’t want to be late to our meeting.”
“You’re cute when you try to lie.” Her nostrils flare just enough to confirm it. She’s pissed that the receptionist took notice of me, and outwardly flirted right in front of her.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Taking the opportunity to end the conversation, she exits. I step out of the elevator and onto what I can only assume is the executive level of the firm. A thin woman is greeting Shelby near the entrance of a large room when I approach, her face lighting up with fear when she sees me. Apparently, it’s not every day a biker walks into the penthouse suite of a firm like this.
Shelby turns to me with a serious look on her beautiful face. “Promise me, you won’t ruin this.”
I arch my brow, the uneasiness I felt earlier returning as I process her request. “Ruin what? All this lawyer friend of yours needs to do is their job, and everything will be fine.”
“Please, Wyatt.” Her voice wavers ever so slightly.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Just over Shelby’s shoulder, the door to the conference room opens, and on the other side is someone I never wanted to see again—Kasey.
“No fucking way. We’re leaving.” I reach for Shelby’s arm, but she jerks away from me, digging in her heels on her decision to consult with the bane of my existence about my daughter.
Kasey smiles. “I see nothing has changed with you, Wyatt. All these years, and you’re still playing a biker in your little biker gang. How are you not in prison?”
She eyes me up and down, just like she used to do when we were in high school. No matter how successful I could have been, I would never have measured up in Kasey’s eyes. Not that I’ve ever cared one fucking wink about what she thinks of me.
“Let’s move this conversation into the conference room. I don’t want to disturb my high-profile clients with this kind of