Page 2 of Cruel Pawn
I’d settled on a long black wool coat from my own wardrobe with a blood-red skater dress and dark tights. I had a room full of costumes for this purpose, and instead I was wearing my own damn clothes. The glasses were fake, though. I’d made a leap that men who owned cats liked geeky, librarian girls. I expelled a rough sigh as I jogged across the street. Guess I was about to find out if I was right.
Time seemed to slow as Arden walked towards Weasel Bean’s exit, and I neared the pavement outside. I should have worn something that bared cleavage. I should have curled my hair instead of leaving it half-straight-half-wavy like it naturally fell. I should have stolen someone’s cat and used that to grab his attention.
Fuck, that was a damn good idea; why did I only think of that now? If this failed, at least I had a backup plan. I supposed I could have just snuck into his home, drugged him, and killed him, but that took all the enjoyment out of it. Ilovedthis part of it. Getting close, building a persona, playing a role that fit perfectly into their lives. Be it an assistant, a mistress, a girlfriend, a funeral director (don’t ask), I wove myself into their lives seamlessly.
Except Arden’s damn cat company wasn’t hiring, and my attempts to get one of them fired had fallen apart. Since when was theft not a sackable offence? Ardenforgavethe man. He was a maddening puzzle, and it took serious effort to wipe the glare from my face. Most men preferred their women smiling and sweet, so that’s what I would be. I pulled up the corners of my mouth like I was thinking about something that made me happy. Men’s screaming pleas for their lives. A bank account with six zeros. A game of chess with a worthy opponent. A library full of unlimited information at my disposal.
Meet cute coming in three… two… one…
I staged the moment perfectly.Nothing to see here, just a pretty, easily distracted woman.Definitely not someone who meticulously planned to slam bodily into a tall, well-dressed stranger. God, how tall was he? Over six feet?
I tipped my head to stare up at his striking face, widening my eyes in surprise, letting my mouth pop open. “Oh my god,” I rushed out, “I’msosorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
I braced for his sharp features to harden with anger, waited for him to snap at me to watch where I was going, or maybe demand I replace his drink—honestly, valid—but his big brown, long-lashed eyes had widened in surprise like mine. Huh, where was the rich boy attitude?
“Oh, no, your dress,” he said with a wince, brushing at his black shirt where coffee made the fabric slick and shiny, a little frothy cream smeared on him and considerably more of it desecrating my dress. I should have worn something I liked less.
“It’s fine, it was all my fault,” I insisted, wiping at the stain with the sleeve of my coat and trying not to think about the damage to the expensive wool. Time to go in for the kill. “My head’s all over the place, my cat just went in for surgery and he’s like my baby, so I wasn’t paying attention at all and—”
Got him. I kept my face slack with regret, but I wanted to grin at the way his face softened, sympathy making his doe eyes soft. It shouldn’t have been possible for a face that sharp to turn so gentle and sympathetic, but there it was, melting right in front of me. (Well, in front of me and a foot higher.)
“Don’t worry about it,” Arden said with a forgiving smile that made something disastrous happen to my heartbeat. “It’s only coffee; I can get another. Family is irreplaceable.”
I tried to mimic his softness, moulded my face with kindness and sugary sweetness. “You see cats as family, too.”
“They’re better family than humans,” he agreed without any suspicion or wariness. This man had a shocking amount of money to his name and came from affluence and luxury. He drove a car made by a brand I’d never even heard of. He had a watch on his wrist—I saw it from the corner of my vision—that was so expensive it could pay for a whole year’s rent. In London. But here he was waving off my apology, happily chatting aboutcatsof all things.
“Let me buy you a new coffee,” I offered. “It’s the least I can do.”
He considered for a second, his eyes on my face. It took effort to keep my expression in place, to not let a scrap of annoyance through. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment, “but only if you join me.”
Holy shit. It worked. Maybe Arden liked sexy librarian types after all. Or maybe he was willing to entertain someone who wasn’t his type because she was a cat mummy.
I pretended to contemplate it for a second, letting my eyes graze his appealing features, his sturdy shoulders, the wet black shirt clinging to his chest.
“Alright,” I relented, as if I would ever give a different response. “But if you turn out to be a secret serial killer, just know my cat will scratch your eyes out.”
His laugh was low and attractive, a sound like whiskey and velvet and darkness.
I probably should have listened to Silvio and walked away from this job. Instead, I indulged the desire to solve the puzzle of Arden McFadyen and followed him into the coffee shop.
2
Arden
Was it possible to fall in love at first catastrophe? If you could even call spilled coffee a catastrophe when it bought me time with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
She sat across from me in one of Weasel Bean’s brown leather booths, her doll-like amber eyes glued to her phone as she checked for updates from the vet. I took advantage of her distraction to stare at the woman, appreciating everything derail, down to the long black eyelashes that kissed her cheeks as she hastily typed something in her phone with long fingers the exact shade of my caramel macchiato. She was so damn pretty. I fought the urge to prop my head on my hand and just gaze at her.
A corner of her mouth flicked up, and my eyes latched onto it, imagining her smiling at me like that. She was an angel in a whipped-cream-smeared dress the colour of dried blood. I wanted to strip it off her body and cover her in hot, open-mouthed kisses and—I was getting out of hand. Shit, all she’d done was peer up at me with those disarming eyes, her face soft with a smile I very rarely experienced aimed in my direction, and I was already thinking about keeping her.
But whyshouldn’tI keep her? Her long hair called to my fingers, making them ache to run through the long, black strands. The honeyed curve of her cheek tempted my lips with the perfect place for a kiss. The collar of her dress scooped just low enough for me to glimpse her collarbones. I imagined the way she’d arch up into me as I dragged my tongue along their sharp edges. And why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I keep her?
“All done,” she said, lifting her head with a smile and catching me staring.
I cleared my throat. “How’s your cat? What’s their name?” I added when my dirty mind ran away with that question. Cat, not pussy. How was hercat.
“Uh.” She grabbed her coffee—an almond matcha. I’d made a note of that, along with every other detail I’d managed to pick up since we met ten minutes ago.
