Page 32 of Greed: The Savage
“Good night, Malric,” she murmured.
He inclined his head.
Thornwick watched her all the way until she’d gone.
And then he spent the rest of the early morn hours trying to sort out why he’d wanted her to stay.
Chapter 8
Yesterday, he’d clearly laid out the terms Addien needed to follow to maintain employment here at the Devil’s Den.
The breathtakingly resolute young woman valued her life and position in equal measure. He admired that facet of Addien Killoran—her values resonated with his.
Given the principles which drove Addien, and the understanding they’d come to in the early morn hours, what Thornwick had not expected was to be kept waiting for a second morning in a row.
Or, for hell’s sake, he couldn’t bring himself to knock on her damned door and get her moving for the day.
Another young maid about her daily tasks went passing by and gave a curious look at finding him standing there.
And why shouldn’t she? Everyone knew the fastidious schedule he kept and the discipline he demanded of both himself and all those who answered to him at the Devil’s Den.
Then had come the damned intimate interlude between he and Addien five hours earlier.
Thornwick consulted his watch fob.Correction—seven hours earlier. He found himself jarred. Knocked sideways. Thrown off his axis.
Unmoored, as he’d never been.
And for what? A bloody conversation that hadn’t lasted more than thirty or so minutes, and she’d flipped him and his view of her on its ear.
This whole while he’d thought her a solitary, foul-tempered termagant, but she was neither of those things. She was resourceful, loyal.Selfless.
When she should be stealing sleep until the next unforgiving day came, she was busy sacrificing the handful of hours she had for herself. And what did Addien do instead?
Thornwick knocked his forehead silently against her door panel.
She taught women at the Devil’s Den toread. Read.
He’d entered into this assignment with her believing one thing, and he’d been so damned cocksure he knew every last detail about her. He’d kept a list of her and all the employees’ schedules: when they woke, when they worked, when they were slated to rest. Who they kept company with. Diligent notes made it easy to ferret out the staff’s efficiency, and to prevent theft and trouble within the club.
It turned out he didn’t know as much as he thought he did.
All those notes he relied upon hadn’t told him a damned thing after all about Addien Killoran.
It had been easier having dealings with Addien when she was an hour on Dynevor’s schedule.
It had been eveneasierwhen she’d been any other insubordinate who delighted in vexing Thornwick.
In the course of one night, she’d gone from a woman he’d been about to send packing to a newly unearthed mystery that made him hungry for more of her secrets.
Hungry for her secrets?
A newly unearthed mystery?
Bleary-eyed, he stared vacantly at a whorl upon the old oak panel. Worn thin from lack of sleep is what Thornwick was.
What did it matter if she’d risen in his esteem? He straightened.
If anything, he shouldn’t be shaken. He should be pleased he’d been paired for an assignment with a woman of shared character and qualities.
