Page 8 of Retribution

“Kim,” Finn says. “Are you the PA?”

“Sometimes.” I keep my voice even. “I do whatever needs to be done.”

He raises his pale eyebrows, gaze sharpening. “Whatever needs to be done? I like the sound of that. Assuming you actually mean it. Most don’t.”

“For me, she does.” Carys tugs her purse higher onto her shoulder. “Lorcan’s expecting us.”

Finn steps back and makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. “If Lorcan is expecting you, I’ll let you figure out where he is.” He nods to a large man who is standing off to the side of the foyer. The front entranceway is long and wide, with high ceilings. The sun filters in from a skylight which brightens the dark décor. “Follow them. Don’t let them touch anything.”

Her voice is steel when she says, “A pleasure, as always, Finn.”

Finn’s laugh floats down the hall as he walks away.

“He’s such a dick.” Carys glances at the guard who reminds me of a former football player.

“Do you know where Lorcan is?” I ask.

“I do.” His voice is a deep rumble.

“Kim.” I thrust out my hand. “And you are?”

“Antonio.” He grasps my hand in his large one, and his brown eyes meet mine.

“Can you take us? I’m guessing Finn’s power play is to make us stumble around blind.”

Antonio chuckles. “I’ll take you. Makes my job easier anyway.” He uses a radio to get someone else at the front door and then leads the way down the wide, tall hallway.

Finn went to the left before an oversize doorway which looks as though it leads to a kitchen, and we go right. Have they divided the house in half? Because of the layout, the space appears older than it is. Unlike modern homes, there isn’t a whiff of an open concept.

We go down three or four doors before Antonio stops and presses an intercom button beside the heavy wooden door. Everything in the house is dark, rich, and expensive. Claustrophobia comes to mind.

“Yes?” Lorcan’s voice comes out of the speaker fuzzy.

“Your ten o’clock is here.”

The door releases with a buzz. Antonio opens it, and Carys doesn’t seem surprised by the security measures. Given Lorcan’s father died in a home invasion, I suppose the extra security is warranted.

When we enter the room, I’m struck by the difference in the décor. While the rest of the house is closed in, this room is much bigger than it seems from the outside, and the light-gray walls are welcoming. There’s another skylight, and sunlight brightens the office, especially after the dark, narrow corridor.

Lorcan sits behind a large mahogany desk, but off to the side is a workout space. A small wooden conference table separates the two areas. He rises, and his jeans and T-shirt are in direct contrast to the formality of last night. The surrounding aura is still there. Calm. Confident. A touch of danger floats around the edges of him, but it’s subdued in this room, as though being in his home softens his sharp corners.

“Carys.” Her name rolls off his tongue.

Something inside my chest strains at the sound. Startled, I raise my eyes to meet his.

“Kim.” His accent makes my name sound far more attractive than it ever has before.

Whatever his game plan is today, the charm is spilling out of him. I’m not sure if it’s the accent, the more casual outfit, or being in his home, but I take an involuntary step toward him. A spark of desire almost catches before I snuff it out.

“Laying it on a little thick this morning, aren’t we?” Her voice holds a hint of mocking.

He chuckles and comes around his desk to adjust the two leather chairs across from him. “Some ladies like the accent.” Lorcan grins.

“Yes, well, I’m aware you’re capable of speaking without it.” Carys gestures for me to take one of the two chairs as he moves back to his own seat behind the desk.

“You’re right.” He smooths out his voice, any trace of an accent is gone, as he says, “You have to play to your audience.” His attention strays to me. “Dressed as a princess last night and a yoga instructor today?”

I give him a half smile. “I don’t like being restrained. This is pretty typical for me.” Yoga pants and a flexible, lightweight shirt are my go-to articles of clothing. Carys mocks me for my lack of originality and makes any excuse to dress me up like a Barbie doll. Most of the time, I don’t mind since she enjoys it so much.

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