Page 25 of Bound By Crimson
Mr. Thorn
Lyric almost slept through her alarm. She’d barely rested the night before—her mind spinning with the kiss, the black car, the heat of Kai’s hands, the sound of his voice.
By the time she rushed to the Velvet Cauldron, she had no time to stop for coffee. She unlocked the door, flipped the sign, and dropped her bag behind the counter, trying to steady her thoughts.
But it was impossible.
The night felt like a fever dream.
A stranger’s kiss.
A dangerous, magnetic pull that left her trembling long after he was gone.
A low purr of an engine stirred the morning quiet.
Lyric glanced toward the street.
The sleek black car pulled up to the curb—the same one from last night. In the morning light, she could see it was a Bentley. What kind, she had no idea. But one thing she did know—Bentleys weren’t cheap.
The driver stepped out smoothly and walked directly into the shop. He carried a tray with two coffees.
Lyric froze behind the counter.
He stopped a polite distance away, inclining his head slightly—a respectful but assertive gesture.
“Good morning, Miss Dawson,” he said, voice even and professional. “Mr. Thorn thought you might be running late this morning. He asked me to deliver these coffees for you and your employer.”
Lyric blinked. “What? How did he—?”
“Mr. Thorn requests your company for brunch.” The driver gestured toward the waiting car. “Now.”
The door opened behind them. Velora stepped in, removing her sunglasses. She stopped cold at the sight of the Bentley, the coffees, and Lyric’s stunned expression.
“Well,” Velora breathed, a grin spreading across her face. “What is this?”
Lyric shifted, flustered. “I—I don’t know. His driver just showed up and—”
The driver cut in smoothly. “Mr. Thorn is requesting Miss Dawson to attend brunch.”
Velora’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Go. We’ll catch up later.” Thomas handed Velora the tray of coffees. Velora walked behind the counter and gave Lyric a coffee and gentle shove toward the door. “Don’t keep him waiting.”
Lyric hesitated for only a second, then followed the driver out.
He opened the rear passenger door for her and waited.
She climbed inside.
The scent hit her first. Not the rich leather interior, but the same spiced amber and warm woods that clung to Kai. Masculine. Addictive.
Then he was there. Dark suit. No tie. The morning light revealed more than the shadows had the night before—his sharp jawline, tousled dark hair, and those molten gold eyes that pinned her in place.
She swallowed, heart hammering.
“You’re late,” he said smoothly. Not a reprimand. More like a private joke. “I’m used to people being early for me.”
“I didn’t exactly plan for—”
“Good.” His mouth curved. “I prefer when you don’t plan. Is the coffee to your liking?”
