Page 22 of A City of Hearts and Feathers

Zoe made sure that the first part of the codex was wrapped up again in its enchanted wrappings before she went back downstairs into the bookstore. Kahil had turned on the lamps before he left so she didn't stumble about in the darkness. It was considerate of him because Zoe had completely forgotten where the light switches were.

She stared at the mosaic lamps with their colorful glass and copper covers and a soft ache spread through her. She had loved the rainbow lamps when she was a child, and they still reminded her of spending hours lying on the red and blue carpets of the bookstore with her own stack of books. She liked to spend quiet hours with Oman, both lost in their own little worlds.

How much about his work did Zoe have no idea about? It was like he had lived a completely different life to the one that she thought he did. He wasn't only a quiet, bookish man. He had been involved with dangerous beings and secret societies.

Who were you really, Oman Kartal?

Zoe ran a finger along the dark wooden bookshelves, checking the titles written in multiple languages. She knew how to fix rare books and that they could be expensive, but she had no idea of the price of the books that were on the shelves in thestore. Maybe she could sell one or two of them, and then she wouldn't have to hustle so hard.

The house in London had been a property that had been in her mother's family for generations. They didn't have to pay extreme London rents, and that was the only thing that kept them afloat. Anita had some family money and from going back to work when Zoe was a child.

Zoe had never really questioned how she had money to go on long holidays every year, but Zoe figured it was leftover insurance money from Oman's death. It was her mother's business.

Zoe stared around the shop and dared to smile at the shelves. Could this be hers?

She had missed the place so much, and while her mother might never want to move back, now that Zoe was here, she felt something that had been missing her entire life click into place. She didn't have to open to the public; she could sell and trade and repair rare books privately. She could turn the shop into whatever she wanted it to be.

Zoe had gotten over some of her initial shock and emotions, and it was hitting her that everything washers. She lifted the copper cover on one of the incense stands and lit the small blocks of sandalwood inside of it like she had watched Oman do every day.

Zoe sat on one of the divans that were set against a wall and looked at the treasures around her. The pillows around her were woven in dizzying patterns, and there was a lamp close by to make a cozy nook to read in.

She placed Oman's organizer down in her lap and began to slowly page through it. It was only for the year he had died. The pages were set in a ring binder, so they could be changed out from year to year. She wasn't really looking for information, only connection to a father she barely knew.

Each page had dates, appointments, notes taken in meetings, book titles requested by clients. Every week there was a standing game of chess with someone called Akamos at the Sarachane Park near the old Roman aqueduct.

Zoe found stubs from airline tickets, and she vaguely remembered him taking short trips to Egypt, France, Italy, and Spain. He would always come home smelling of strange places and brought her back sweets from whatever country he had been in.

The front door of the shop rattled, and Kahil appeared, carrying a large duffel bag over one shoulder and bags of groceries in his other hand. He clearly didn't believe in multiple trips, and Zoe found herself staring, wide-eyed, at the bulge of his biceps under his T-shirt.

"You said you were going to pick up a few things. I didn't know you were going to move in," she said with a frown, quickly looking away from his arms. She was wishing she had fought harder to get someone else to be her bodyguard. Someone less attractive and distracting.

"You signed the contract. You knew this was a twenty-four-hour job, Zoe. Now, are you going to care if I take your parents' bedroom to sleep in?" he asked. When she hesitated, he smiled slyly. "Ah, you do. That's okay. It's safer for me to bunk with you anyway. The closer I am, the better I can protect you if something gets through the wards. Do you prefer the left or the right side of the bed?"

"My parents' room will be fine," Zoe said, a little too quickly. He was so big, she doubted they would both fit on the double bed in the guest room. Her treacherous mind produced an image of them attempting it, and heat curled in her belly.

Kahil's eyes glimmered with mischief as if he knew exactly what she was thinking about. Fuck.

"Come up when you're done down here. I'll get settled and put some dinner on," he said and headed up the stairs, giving her a great view of his toned ass. It had been a long time since Zoe had any kind of man in her life and in her space. It was going to be an interesting experience for both of them.

He's your bodyguard, not your boyfriend, she reminded herself. Maybe she should have asked Kerem to take the contract instead, so she wasn't distracted by a long-haired smartass with a fine ass.

"Fuck, get it together. He's not that hot," Zoe muttered under her breath. She went into Oman's office, and when no panic attack hit her, she started exploring. She started on the bookshelves and pulled out a tall ledger that was bound in green leather.

Oman had been able to use a computer, but he always seemed to want to record his transactions by hand. After twenty minutes of scanning names, titles, and prices, Zoe let out a frustrated breath. She bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly concerned that he had been careful like that because he didn't want a digital footprint on who he was buying and selling to.

Kahil had said that the Kartal family had been neutral, selling to both light and dark sides of the balance. Had they been trading illegally too? Zoe had no idea how to find out.

The smell of garlic and lamb drifted into the bookstore, and her stomach rumbled. She picked up the ledger and the organizer. Maybe Kahil would know who some of the clients were, or at least give her some idea on where to start asking questions.

Kahil was in the kitchen, scooping seeds out of a pomegranate and keeping an eye on the meat cooking under the grill. It smelled insanely good, and Zoe almost floated over to sit at the counter to watch. She was woman enough to admit thatseeing a giant man cooking in her kitchen was a damn fine thing to witness.

Kahil looked over his shoulder to smile at her. "It's not ready yet,balim."

"It smells amazing. Do you mind if I sit here and ask you some questions?" Zoe said, placing the books down beside her.

"Fire away." He finished fussing over at the other counter before placing a small plate of hummus, olives, and chopped up simit chunks in front of her. "Here. I could hear your stomach growling from downstairs."

"Hey, my stomach is not that bad. We can't all live off a diet of tea and sugar," she replied, putting an olive into her mouth. She almost choked on it when Kahil lifted up his shirt and smacked his rock hard, tattooed stomach.

---