Stacy paused, glancing at Rowan. He gave the barest nod. The fact that these people knew her father was a dragon took her aback. “Y-yes. That’s right.”
Kiera’s eyes gleamed, turning from deep green to a brilliant violet like the heart of a flame. “Can you breathe fire?”
Stacy laughed. “I can barely use defensive spells, let alone shift, so no.”
Kiera sighed. “A shame.”
“One day, though. Right?” Miles asked with a wink.
Stacy wasn’t sure. She hadn’t thought much about it and was slightly afraid of what it would mean. She remembered when she’d torn men apart because her dragon heritage rose within her, sending her out of control.
She shut the thoughts down as Rowan stated, “After we finish eating, I’ll give you both a tour of the estate. If that doesn’t convince you to…”
Kiera interrupted him. “No need. I’d like to see everything, of course, but I’ve already made my decision.” She fixed Stacy with a knowing gaze, the violet in her eyes shining. “I would like to stay.”
Miles raised his glass of wine. “Count me in. I like it here already.”
Stacy glanced at Rowan, thinking, I believe I’m going to like your friends.”
CHAPTER THREE
Victor Corbinelli was alone in the dimly lit confines of his expansive office. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in contemplation. His cold, calculating eyes were fixed on a large screen that flipped through photographs of an old stone manor house surrounded by a wrought iron fence and dense woods.
The photos of the Thorn estate in New York’s northern countryside were two decades old, from when one Catherine Thorn was the owner. According to the documents he’d procured, she died twenty-five years ago, leaving her estate to…
Well, no one quite knew, but he had a guess.
One of Victor’s more competent agents had dug up the photos and property information using cryptic messages left in a file Victor found on Lenny’s desk the day he died.
It was after dark, and the flicker of the computer screen was the only light in the office. Beyond the large windows overlooking the city, buildings gleamed like diamonds. His diamonds, since he owned considerable real estate from here in the Financial District to the end of Manhattan in Morningside Heights.
Victor’s eyes narrowed on the photos of the Thorn house. His face was grim as he considered all the men who had failed him, including his former personal attorney, Leonard Dolos. He pictured Lenny’s head with a bullet in it, blood spilling onto the carpet of his office. His mind turned to another failed hire. Isadora Voss, the vampire he hoped would end the irritation Stacy Drake had become, had vanished. Gone like a wisp of shadow.
Despite using many resources to track her down, Victor hadn’t found her. It had only been a few weeks. He still had time. Victor’s fingers curled toward his palm in a fist as he made a mental vow. When he found the bitch, he’d make sure she regretted running.
Voss and Vaughan. The pair who were supposed to finish the fucking job. Another failure. Victor sighed. He was tired of hiring hitmen and assassins who couldn’t go the distance. He had plenty of ire to pour into finding Voss, but Victor had more serious things to worry about.
The Titan made note of the entrances into the Thorn house, how large the grounds were, and what sort of security measures might be in place. The information his agent brought him had divulged a revelation of great interest. The new owner of the Thorn estate was Stacy Drake, the bitch who had taken Lenny down in court time and time again.
Victor was inclined to believe Lenny had been stupid and weak during those last few months of his career and life. However, he had to admit Lenny had always been a talented lawyer. Stacy Drake’s work in the courtroom was truly something he couldn’t underestimate.
So don’t, a voice in his mind suggested. Get rid of her.
It seemed so simple. So why had Voss and Vaughan, talented, trained assassins, been unable to do it? What was the secret of the Thorn estate that protected the woman who now lived there? What connection did Stacy have with Catherine Thorn?
Victor had researched her, too. Barely anything about Catherine Thorn had come up beyond that she had owned this small estate.
Stacy might be difficult to pin down, but she had friends he could go after. He pulled up another file, this one detailing information about Ms. Amy Greentree. A slow smile spread to his lips. She was the one.
He reached for his phone and made a call.
Stacy retired to the comfort of her living room after she and Rowan concluded their tour of the house for Kiera and Miles. The pair had left with promises to return the following day with their belongings.
Stacy felt the evening had gone well. They’d departed with pleasant goodbyes. As soon as they were gone, Stacy had tried peppering Rowan with questions, but he’d been quick to say he was going to bed. In the grumpiest tone possible.
Alone on the lower level, Stacy wondered if his grumpiness had to do with her questions regarding his old friends. Several strange things were said after dinner, alluding to an extensive past. Their lives seemed tightly intertwined, with the trio’s paths crossing time and time again. They’ll be working here now, so I’ll have plenty of time to learn more, she told herself.
Deciding it wouldn’t do her much good to ruminate, she lounged on the sofa, phone in hand, and scrolled through social media. A video compilation of cats jumping onto countertops and seizing at the feeling of tin foil made her laugh. She clicked share and sent the link to Ethan. She had to text it because he was the sort of guy who “didn’t believe in social media.” Whatever that meant.
She added a message to the video.
STACY
Ever done this to your cat? Maybe line your most precious shelves with foil.
Stacy scrolled on for another minute, seeing several cooking, organizing, and street prank videos before Ethan responded.
ETHAN
Funny. I’ve never tried because Gus is an absolute angel.
Stacy frowned, typing in a hurried response.
STACY
He’s a demon cat but acts perfect around you, so you don’t see it.
