Page 22 of The Dark Before Light

Not since a phone call in the middle of the night accomplished what two assassination attempts hadn’t.

“Did something change five weeks ago?”

I loathe how easily she can read me—a feat even those closest to me have never managed.

Sharing time is over.

“I’ve been working my ass off since I was eighteen. I was bound to crash eventually.” I shrug. “I’m feeling back to normal now.”

Her eyes sharpen. Lion eyes. The second my mind makes the connection, something in me relaxes. There’s now a valid explanation for that niggling familiarity I feel around her. Dilly was the single canine exception to my lifelong love of big cats. When I was little, my parents used to have to drag me away from the lion enclosure at the Dublin Zoo.

“So that’s what over a month of daily drinking and isolation were? A vacation?”

“Apparently so.”

Stirling stares at me for another beat. “I think we should stop here for today.”

Music to my ears.

Standing smoothly, I button my jacket. She rises as well, gliding past me to the door. My eyes have a mind of their own, skating over the dark mass of her hair, lingering on the curve of her ass, trailing down her legs. Her bare calves are works of art.

“Mr. Hayes.”

Shit.

Stirling stands at the door, hand on the knob, her expression reproachful. For a shocking second, I wonder what she looks like when she comes.

I’m so rattled by the thought, I snap, “You’re not my type, but I’m not dead. Out of curiosity, what did you hope to accomplish by wearing that getup? Did you think I’d fall to my knees and ask to be spanked?”

Shock blankets her expression, swiftly encompassed by anger. Shame floods me like toxic waste. Why the fuck did I say that? She’s really done nothing except try to help me.

“Stirling, I?—”

“No,” she snaps.

She crosses to me and gets right in my face, so tall I barely have to dip my head to maintain eye contact. And I do—I deserve whatever she’s about to unleash.

“Listen very carefully because I’m not going to repeat myself. That’s the last time you’ll reference my past, which you know less than nothing about. Moreover, our sessions are outside my normal working hours—which, as I mentioned to Gail, are booked solid for the next two months. If I’d had time to change between my last appointment of the day and this one, believe me, I would have.”

My voice bypasses my brain entirely, emerging hoarse. “You wore that for another client?”

Her eyes flare. She takes an abrupt step back, then swivels and opens the door. Not looking at me, she says in a frosty tone, “Good night, Mr. Hayes. If you’d like to book another session, you have my phone number.”

I clear my throat and walk past her into the hallway. The door doesn’t slam, but the sound is jarringly final. I acted like a fool, and I don’t blame her for putting me in my place.

Sven’s gaze shifts from the door to me, then flickers down before snapping back to my face. His brows lift.

“Don’t say a fucking word,” I growl.

He grunts—the equivalent of a gleeful howl.

I stalk past him toward the exit, refusing to acknowledge or adjust my rock-hard cock.

Chapter 7

Talia

“This is… a complicated situation.”

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