Page 19 of A Dagger of Twisted Starlight

“Huh?” I asked. “I hadn’t realized you were paying attention.”

“Nothing escapes me.” He grinned at me. He had a smile that quirked to one side—the right—and made a dimple appear in his cheek. It felt at odds with the massively powerful dragon I knew lurked directly underneath. I liked that about him. There was a duality to him that really intrigued me.

It certainly didn’t hurt that he had some of the sexiest lips I’d ever seen in my life. They were pink and plump and had the nicest little Cupid’s bow at the center. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fantasize about how they’d feel against my lips.

Or against anywhere else on my body, for that matter.

“Thanks,” I said. I glanced ahead at Verona, who typed away furiously on her phone. “It’s something I got used to pretty quick. I can talk to people in that kind of environment, but then when the guardrails of fundraising and galas are taken away, I tend to turn into an awkward mess.”

“Why do you think that is?”

I gave an honest shrug. We turned and walked toward two open oak doors. It was my father’s office. I could hear him chatting with someone. He had a voice that carried. “I think it’s because I know all their crazy, dirty little secrets.”

“Really?”

“Nah, it’s probably just because I don’t really care about any of them. Or at least I don’t care what they think of me. Is that weird to say?”

Xavier shook his head. “Not at all. Makes sense to me.”

“Blake is a wonderful public speaker and an incredible guy,” Verona added as we slowed. “Sorry. I don’t want you to think I’ve been ignoring you both. I just have an issue with my babysitter I have to take care of.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. Verona had been working with my dad for over five years now. She had a cut-to-the-chase personality that was softened after getting to know her. Plus, she had the best dinner recommendations around. She knew all the top spots to eat.

We reached my father’s office. Verona knocked on the door and let us in.

My dad sat behind his desk, phone against his ear. Next to him was Joshua, Cassius’ father and the secretary of transportation. He crossed his arms against his pressed white shirt. Hissuit hung off the back of a leather seat, his tie slightly crooked. It seemed like he was stressed about something.

“Blake! How’s the event so far?” my father asked.

“Great,” I said. I walked around his huge desk and hugged him. “We’re still speaking, right?”

“I may have to cut my speech short. Something’s come up. Would you mind taking over the bit I have to drop? I have it written down here.”

“Sure,” I said before even looking at the paper. Public speaking was never my worry; it was private speaking that tripped me up.

Joshua glanced at his watch again. He looked worried. There was tension pulling at his thin brown eyebrows, his expression as tight as the fist hanging at his side. He caught my father’s gaze. Something in it must have told my father to “hurry the fuck up.” My dad rose, nearly knocking back his chair.

What the hell was going on?

“Perfect,” my dad said. “I’m going to handle something with Joshua and then meet you back at the gala. You two can stay in here to go over the speech.”

“Everything alright?” I asked him.

“Everything’s good,” Joshua answered. His tone was frigid. He was my dad’s best friend but quite his opposite. Where my father was warm and open, Joshua had an icy barrier to him. He wasn’t one to laugh at many jokes or crack too many smiles.

He and my father collected their things and left the office. Verona scurried behind them, still focused on fixing whatever happened with her babysitter.

“That was weird,” I said as the doors shut behind Verona.She was a Marvel, so a swish of her hands had red threads materialize behind her and pull the doors closed. “Or was that just me?”

Xavier looked to the closed doors. His eyes narrowed. “Not just you.”

“Probably some news pundit is going off the rails again. Reelection is coming up soon. There’s always fires to put out around this time.” I grabbed the papers off my dad’s desk and went over to the dark green couch. I sat perched on the edge of the cushion, reading over the script.

Xavier sat next to me, the couch dipping with his weight. He was close. There was plenty of room to sit, so why had he chosen to sit inches away from me? Was it just a mistake? Did it mean something? Was I losing it?

He held a hand out. “Want me to help?”

“I want you to sit a little more to the left. I’m getting hot in here.” I grabbed the collar of my shirt and gave it a couple of tugs.

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