Page 4 of Stroke of Shadows

It was why she was over an hour early, because despite not enjoying crowds, she revelled in the difference compared to her normal day-to-day life. It was the illusion of being anyone but herself. Someone who didn’t have such strict rules in the way she acted, or the way she dressed. She could be anyone she wanted to be, at least for the next hour.

“So, no friends?” Clover prompted, clearly not reading the ‘leave me alone’ vibes.

“Not today.” Not that she had any. Friends were complicated. Friends could be hurt. “I’m just here for my meeting.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, there’s a guy over there who keeps looking at you,” Clover mock-whispered, a giggle slipping past her lips. “Tall, dark, and dangerously hot.”

Harper turned in the same direction, not first noticing the man perched at the end of the bar, his arm raised towards the bartender. “I’m sure he’s not,” she said, strangling the usual sense of dread crawling along her spine at the possible attention.

“Oh, he is babe. Trust me.” Clover nudged her a step closer, and only then did the man turn fully, caramel eyes welcoming as they swept down her slow enough that warmth spread through her veins. Except in a split second, his demeanour changed, his dark brows drawing together in a frown before he returned his attention to the bar.

Heat burned her face, embarrassment at the awkward dismissal. Turning her back, she grasped her glass harder.

“He’s looking again,” Clover continued, glancing over Harper’s shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t know him?”

“I’m pretty sure.” She would’ve definitely remembered his face, his eyes bright, framed with envious dark lashes. Not to mention the high cheekbones and an angled jaw covered in the lightest stubble.

The wine tasted like dirt as she swallowed the rest of her drink, tinged with disappointment.

“He’s looking again.” Clover nibbled her bottom lip, slightly swaying on her feet. “Maybe he’s for your meeting?”

“That’s not…” The realisation hit her. She knew that wasn’t Mr Beckett, having researched him thoroughly before the meeting. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t sent a representative to find her. “Maybe he’s early, it could be—”

Her words drowned out against a much deeper voice.

“Hi there.”

Harper released her iron grip on the empty glass, staring up at the tall, dark, and definitely hot man. “Hi,” she managed to squeak before recovering. “I’m sorry. Are you the representative for Mr Beckett?”

He smiled, the movement brightening his face and highlighting the single dimple in his right cheek. “I’ll be anyone you want me to be, Darling.”

Oh my.

“She has no friends!” Clover shouted drunkenly over her shoulder. “Maybe you could be her friend?”

“No friends? We’ll have to change that.” His smile turned into an amused smirk. “So, do I get a name?”

“I assume you’re not from Mr Beckett,” Harper replied instead, regaining just some of her composure.

The man brushed through his already tousled hair, the onyx strands just long enough to start to curl. “No, but there’s no need to make me jealous. I can assure you I’m better than anyone named Beckett.”

Harper stifled a laugh, unable to stop herself. He held himself with such confidence, his smile a magnetism that drew her closer, like a moth to a flame. His t-shirt was black, short-sleeved, except on his right arm, which was torn at the shoulder. Dark lines decorated every inch of his delicious tawny brown skin, intricate patterns that spread to the tips of his fingers.

“So, how can I help you, not Beckett?”

Everything about him was very different to what she was used to. From his casualness, to the way he watched her with quiet amusement, his eyes never leaving hers.

“It’s Sythe,” he said, his voice warming her skin.

“I don’t remember asking for your name.”

He shrugged, just a nonchalant roll of his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to be moaning the wrong guy’s name later. Bad for the ego.”

Something hot and dangerous coiled low in her stomach, his confidence alone making her want to clench her thighs together in anticipation. “You think you have that ability?” she asked, surprised at her own response.

She was not the sort of woman to encourage such behaviour. It wasn’t like she had much experience with sex or intimacy.

His smile grew, as if he could read her inner turmoil. “Only way to find out is by taking the free trial.”

---