The Isle Of Sin And Shadows - Keri Lake Page 0,142

to tear this dress off you.”

“Surely, you wouldn’t, Mr. Blake,” I taunt. “What a waste of a perfectly good dress.”

“Worth every penny.”

After an upward two-floor jaunt, the doors open again onto a bright, white hallway that’s nearly blinding, as I allow my eyes to adjust to the intense sunlight pouring in from ceiling-high windows. The stark white walls and tiled floor only exacerbates its brightness. Between the narrow frame of each window hangs a dark crucifix, every few feet along the path.

Pushing through the double doors brings us to a nursing station, where a heavyset woman casts a beaming smile toward Thierry. “Well, hello, Mr. B. And friend.”

At that, the woman behind her, who doesn’t appear to be a nurse in her peach ruffled blouse and beige slacks, turns around to face us. Given the instant appraisal in her eyes, I’m definitely an unexpected guest. “What a pleasant surprise! You’ve brought a friend.”

“Carly, this is Madame Bijou. She’s the reason this hospital has electricity and running water.”

The secretary snorts a laugh, stacking a bunch of papers into a neat pile. “Ain’t that the truth! Was like living in the dark ages. Only bathroom on this floor was in the west wing, and it was unisex. I need not say more.”

Smiling, I offer a hand to the older woman. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Bijou.”

“Jude is fine,” the older woman says, giving a limp shake of my hand. “Frannie will be elated. As I understand, she had a bit of ice cream this afternoon, so brace yourselves. She might be bouncing off the walls.”

“Consider us braced.” Taking my hand in his, Thierry leads me farther down the hallway, and for whatever reason, a wave of jitters washes over me.

I’ve never had a man introduce me to his family until now.

Before I realize it, I’ve slowed my pace, slipping my hand from Thierry’s, which prompts him to look over his shoulder. Heart pounding in my chest, I clear my throat and come to a stop. “Maybe I’ll just wait out here.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What if …” She hates me. Ridiculous, given her condition that Thierry described, but sometimes the ones with the quietest minds are the most perceptive. What if she sees right through me?

“Relax, catin. She probably won’t even know you’re there.” With a wink, he takes my hand again, and I follow him into the room.

Sitting in a wheelchair that faces a barred window is a young girl, her braided blonde hair draped over her shoulder. Blessed with the same sharp jawline and high cheekbones as her older brother, she’s beautiful. Flawless, pale white skin is a contrast to Thierry’s bronze tone, perhaps the most notable difference between them. In her arms, she clutches a ratted-looking teddy bear, with a missing black button eye and matted fur.

As I take a seat beside her, the girl doesn’t so much as glance in my direction, her eyes fixed, dilated. Staring out the window.

A short brunette in a nursing uniform gathers up a tray holding a small dixie cup. The onceover she throws at me is nowhere near as friendly as the others I’ve gotten today. In fact, the tightening of her lip and roll of her eyes suggests she’s not happy to see me, at all.

She slides Thierry a sidelong glance as she passes us, knocking me in the shoulder on her way, and I frown after her, when she leaves the room.

“What the hell was that all about?”

The quirk of his brow tells me it’s better not to know. Or ask. She’s obviously someone he’s fucked before, and to a certain extent, I guess I can understand her bitterness.

“Well, she’s much more gracious than I would’ve been. I’ll give her that.”

“How so?”

“I’d have, at least, made a point to kick you in the n--”

With a look of warning, he glances toward his sister and shakes his head.

“Right. Allow me to rephrase: I’d have firmly introduced my stilettos to the inseam of your perfectly pressed slacks.”

The dark chuckle that follows isn’t the response I was hoping for, honestly, and it’s then I realize I’ve been bitten by the jealousy bug.

Damn thing.

I want to reach inside my chest and squash it, just like a mosquito that bursts across my palm in a bloody mess, but I can’t. It’s already injected its poison, and all I can do is wait for the itch to go away.

Trying not to imagine his body pressed against hers, I sit fidgeting, watching him peel his suit coat from over the