Page 82 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
What is it about this man that so completely unravels me?
In less time than I could have imagined, we’re on the ground, and a black SUV is waiting for us. The driver shakes hands with my men, and Dorian introduces us.
And surprising me, he reaches to pet Calypso. “And who might you be?”
“Calypso,” I respond.
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Calypso.” As he bends down, she looks at him with long, slow blinks.
Brennan helps me into the vehicle, and this time, Calypso immediately relaxes, no doubt thanks to the little nugget that Brennan pulls from his pocket and gives to her.
Grinning, I look at him. “When did you stash some treats?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I believe in being prepared.”
“Where are we going?” I ask Dorian while our luggage is taken care of.
“French Quarter.”
“Oh? Are we staying there?”
“No.”
I don’t get anything else out of him other than the curt answer.
While he grabs his phone to respond to a text, Brennan captures my gaze. “You’ll like what he has in mind.”
I’m not sure I believe him.
Moments later, we’re being whisked through the city’schaos and into the charming, historic, and crowded streets that are filled with people and jazz music.
The driver pulls to a stop on Royal in front of what appears to be an ordinary tourist shop offering masks and trinkets and proclaiming they have the coldest bottled water in town.
I look from the store front to Dorian. “Is this it?”
“Things aren’t always what they seem, are they, Isla?”
A dig at the way I switched places with my sister?
Brennan exits and offers his hand. Then I look to Dorian. “Is it okay to bring Calypso with me?” I’m not sure I want to leave her behind.
“She’ll be fine with me,” our driver promises.
I frown. “Really?”
“My wife is a cat foster mom with the local animal shelter. We have four of our own. Miss Calypso will be fine. I promise.”
I fuss for a bit as Brennan helps me unclip the sling, and I tell him where all the treats and toys are. “You know where I’ll be if you need anything.”
“We’ll be fine. Won’t we, Cally?” With a smile in my direction, he takes my pet from me.
Even though I’m looking over my shoulder, keeping an eye on her as Dorian guides me to the sidewalk, she doesn’t even look in my direction.
I hear his soft voice as he places her in the front seat next to him and belts the carrier into place.
Brennan strides ahead of me, shouldering through the open door of the shop, and I follow, Dorian’s strong fingers pressing firmly against the base of my spine. A blast of chilled air hits me, followed by the faint, sweet scent of pralines, then the sharp tang of chicory-laced coffee from the shelves on the wall.
I’ve been in New Orleans a few times, and this seems nodifferent than the dozens of tourist traps that I’ve visited. A refrigerator is stocked with water, soda, and energy drinks. There are racks of vibrant dresses, and shelves filled with impractical heels and sandals. Carnival masks glare down from the walls with frozen, eerie grins.
