Page 79 of Quinlan

I’m here, aren’t I? In this nice gray blouse, black slacks, and my heels. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail, my makeup is on point. I shouldn’t be nervous.

“Ms. Palmer, are you all right?”

Except I am. The job is mine, but I’m sure they have a loophole in case I fuck up royally. Or a team of lawyers to null the agreement for any number of reasons.

“Yes.” Spine straight. Shoulders pulled back. I definitely don’t pull the collar of my shirt to get some air in.

Not me. I clutch on to the notebook and pen I’ve been provided with by Tatum when I arrived. Anything but fidget.

I have to believe this job is mine. That nothing that happened outside these offices reflects on me in any way. I am not a mess. I don’t belong to three ridiculously hot men.

I’m me. The professional they hired to work on their website.

“Everything’s great.”

“Good.” She’s elegant as she rises from her chair. Her blonde hair is twisted into a low bun, her striped dress shirt tucked into her black pencil skirt. “In that case, they’re ready to see you.”

The offices are beautiful. A lot of money was invested into this place. I get up, watching the night sky outside. Inhaling. I’m fine.

Tatum walks over to me in her heels. “If you could follow me, please.”

“Um, Tatum?” She’s quick, setting off toward the conference room with me at her side. “Is there—Are there any topics I should avoid?”

She stops at my question. We’re in the middle of a vast hallway, surrounded by glass walls and buzzing sounds of people talking over the phone and typing. The place is a hive.

Tatum is silent, though.

“There is, actually.” Her voice is a conspiratorial whisper. “I assume you remember you signed an NDA. You can’t talk about anything that goes on within these walls. They value their privacy.”

“Of course. I would never.” I have never either. My clients’ information is just that. Theirs.

“Good.” She sucks another deep breath, leaning toward me.

By her expression, it’s clear she’s uncomfortable with the invasion of my personal space as much as I am. This means what she has to tell me is important. A secret.

“And?”

“Not that I think anything of it. Truth is, I hardly even notice it’s there. Some people, though…” She shakes her head, disgusted. “Mr. Frost’s face is a sensitive topic. Don’t look at him too hard, even if he’s the one talking to you. He wouldn’t admit it, but I’ve been here long enough to know it upsets him.”

Ice floods my veins. My heart halts to a full stop.

“Disgusted by my scar, aren’t you?”

Liam’s words. Liam’s pain.

Impossible. It can’t be him.

When Damien had his tongue in my pussy, when Rome branded my ass with his hand… When Liam shut me up using one hand while the other abused my nipple until pain became earth-shattering pleasure…

That wasn’t some kind of a sick initiation to this job. I refuse to believe it.

They can’t be that twisted.

Can they?

“No looking too hard at Mr. Frost.” Fuck these thoughts. Fuck this fear. “Got it.”

I focus on Tatum, on the doors at the end of the hallway. They’re there. My future lies behind them. A way to support my family, not kinky, attractive men.

---