Page 29 of Ashes of Saints

Then tell myself, I don’t need to.

All I need is access to her mother’s house.

“You aren’t most women, clearly,” I reply as our meals arrive. “Eat. Drink. Relax. Then I’ll drive you home like a gentleman. I simply wanted to get to know you.”

Aurora studies my face as if I’m going to break out in laughter and tell her I’m joking. After a long moment, she nods and picks up her fork. “Okay.”

I let out a silent sigh of relief.

Tomorrow, I’ll send off the utensil for testing and will be one step closer to having one question crossed off my list.

Are we related? Who was the little green-eyed girl watching me in my personal hell, then whisked away to her happy childhood?

Familiar hate sizzles underneath my skin as I lift my wine and watch her eat.

Hopefully, I won’t have to endure too many dates with this woman. Then she can pay for the sins of her mother.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AURORA

I feel like such a moron. Parker has been a complete gentleman and seems happy to forget the awkwardness of our earlier discussion. Why didn’t I just tell him I had no idea where my hair color came from because I didn’t know my father or any of my family members?

Just Mom.

Because I’m ashamed.

He probably has an amazing family and can trace his heritage back generations.

People like Parker can.

We stayed off topic the of family after that, and he shared all about his business and his latest acquisition. He enjoys finding failing companies and fixing them, which I found intriguing. That sort of thing takes a lot of risk and knowledge.

I suspect.

Because what do I know?

“It’s like surgery. I see all the broken pieces like a doctor in front of me and naturally know how to repair them. Most of the time, I’m successful.” He chews a piece of his Wagyu and continues, “Except, when you’re dealing with people, it’s not quite that simple. They can be predictable to a point...until they’re not. That’s what makes it fun and challenging.”

It would freak me the hell out.

“It’s so satisfying when you see the company begin to thrive,” he continues.

I pop the last piece of cod in my mouth and smile at the passion he has for what he does. How amazing that must be to know who you are and what you’re good at.

I have an art degree and no idea what to do with it.

“How do you deal with failure?” I ask and take a sip of my wine. It’s glass three and I’m feeling much more relaxed.

Liquid confidence, as they say.

I want to sit here and listen to this sexy man talk all night long. Watch his roped forearms, which are covered in tattoos—he rolled his sleeves up—and how he plays with the black ring on his middle finger.

I want to undo his top button on his black shirt and reveal more of his tattoos. Touch him.

Lick him.

Oh god, I’m basically eye fucking the guy while he’s talking about business.

---