Page 29 of Shift of Morals
“Darling,” she breathed, both hands outstretched as she cupped his chin, “you look so handsome.” She snapped her fingers, and a server scurried over holding a small clear box. With deft fingers, she extricated a small boutonniere and pinned it to the lapel of Caelan’s jacket.
I hated it. A boutonniere like that would have never left my shop. It looked like one of those cheap things you bought from the discount fridge at the local florist.
His posture went stiff before he smiled, a small flash of teeth. “Gianna. You look beautiful as always.”
A tiny crack appeared in my heart, but I kept my emotions off my face.
Soren’s gaze tore away from Moira and landed on Gianna, disgust flickering over his expression, there and gone in the blink of an eye as she turned to him. “And you, handsome as always.”
Soren gave a small bow to Gianna. “Always the stunning, consummate hostess, Gianna. Thank you for your hospitality this evening.”
She preened under his attention. “It’s always a pleasure to welcome any of Caelan’s allies to our home.”
Caelan pulled Gianna’s seat out for her. She settled once more, smoothing her hands over her skirt. Caelan sat beside her, and Soren at Caelan’s left, the Lord’s eyes lingering on Moira.
With silent choreography, the servers came over and presented salads, a small pile of spring greens with candied walnuts, sliced apples and pears, and a poppyseed dressing. They refilled my water and everyone else’s wine and faded into the background like they’d never been there.
Whatever this was, it wasn’t my cup of tea. I was sitting with people who weren’t my friends, except Moira who was here mainly for moral support, while being forced to eat with people I didn’t trust.
Moira and I exchanged looks. She wasn’t keen on this either.
“Dig in, ladies,” Gianna said. “We have three more courses to go.”
I gave her a tight smile. “What time are we discussing the arrangements?”
Soren smirked. “We don’t discuss business during dinner, Miss Quinn.”
Moira speared a slice of apple with her fork. “Oh?” Her voice was low and sultry. “What do all important Lords and their Ladies discuss during fancy dress-up dinners?”
Caelan hadn’t taken his eyes off me since he sat down, and it was making me fidget like a hooker in church. The man didn’t just stare. He bored a hole in my soul with the way he was looking at me.
A slow grin curved Soren’s lips. “What would you like to speak about, Miss Devlin?”
Moira chuckled. “Flower arrangements would be nice. Evie turns into a pumpkin soon.”
“There are certain ways a Lord conducts his business, Miss Quinn,” Gianna said in a no-nonsense tone. “Pressing a Lord to hurry simply isn’t done.”
Caelan’s low laugh tightened things inside me. “Evie works on her own schedule.”
Gianna gave him a sharp look. “She is our employee now. Miss Quinn will work on our schedule.”
I blinked. “I do not work for you,” I said archly. “Our contract is temporary, and you are not entitled to any more time than is allotted by our agreement.” I set my fork down. “Tonight was a personal favor to Simone and the Shifter Lord, a way to keep open relations as I’ve worked for him before on a contract basis.” Anger simmered within me.
“I can see now this was a mistake.” I rose from my seat.
“Evie.” Caelan rose.
My teeth gnashed. Without thinking, I reached toward him and squeezed my fist. The hideous boutonniere turned into fine ash, grey dust falling down his jacket. “If you need something like this in the future, I would rather make it for free than see you wear something so ugly.”
One of his eyebrows rose. Using the back of his hand, he brushed the rest of the dust off, eyes glittering with heated amusement. “Gianna’s taste offends you, Miss Quinn?”
“Danger,” Moira said under her breath.
“I believe a florist over-exaggerated their talent, Lord. White roses and baby’s breath are cheap and do not befit the status of a Lord.”
Gianna scoffed. “Miss Quinn, you are out?—”
Caelan lifted his hand. “Let Evie speak.”
