Page 178 of The Billionaire's Baby
He nods.
"You’re one of the Seven, aren’t you?" I peer up into his face, "I saw you at Arpad and Karina’s wedding."
His jaw hardens. Now what did I say for him to seem angry?
"Surely, you remember?" I mutter. "Didn’t you notice me?"
"I don’t notice every girl who crosses my path."
I blink, then pause my steps, "Now, that’s not fair. I could have sworn that you saw me there. Besides, I am not a girl."
He pulls forward, and I run to catch up. "Did you hear what I said?" I demand. "I am not a—"
"Girl." He stops so quickly that I bump into him. The scent of chlorine, and under that, the fresh cut-grass scent of him teases my nostrils. I draw in a breath, fill my lungs with his spicy essence. Moisture pools in my center and my nerve-endings seem to fire all at once. Why the hell does he have to smell so utterly delectable?
He pivots to face me and the heat of his body seems to turn up a notch. Does this man have a furnace under his skin or what?
He looks me up and down. "What are you then?" he asks.
"What—" I blink.
"You said you are not a girl, so what are you?"
I tip up my chin. "A woman." I square my shoulders. "I am a woman."
"And I am sworn to celibacy."
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Karma
"Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day…"
Tears prick the back of my eyes. Goddamn Byron. Crept up on me when I am at my weakest. Not that I am a poetry addict, by any measure, but words are my jam.
The one consolation I have, that when everything else in the world is wrong, I can turn to them, and they’ll be there, friendly steady, waiting with open arms. And this particular poem had laced my blood, crawled into my gut when I’d first read it. Darkness had folded into me like an insidious snake that raises its head when I least expect it. Like now. I'd managed to give my bodyguard the slip and veered off my usual running route to reachWaterlow Park.
I look out on the still sleeping city of London, from the grassy slope of the expanse. Somewhere out there the Mafia was hunting me, apparently.
I purse my lips, close my eyes. Silence. The rustle of the wind between the leaves, the faint tinkle of the water from the nearby spring.
