Brothers of Paradise Series

“That project was yours, and your name is nowhere near it.”

He understands-of course he understands. My vanity and pride, the part of me that had wanted this since I was a kid, had been the most upset by that part. That something I’d given years of my life to could not be traced in any way back to me.

“No.”

“I’m surprised you could handle being that civil to him.”

I shoot him a crooked smile. “Well, you helped. There was a time when all I wanted was to hit him.”

Henry raises an eyebrow. “Violent, Miss Alvarez?”

“When provoked.”

“Then rightly so,” he says. His jaw clenches again, eyes turning hard. “Was he ever inappropriate toward you?”This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

It’s not hard to imagine what he’s thinking of. I’d used that word in my letter-lecherous. “All the time. That was his way, you know.” I shake my head, thinking about the sly comments and the roaming eyes. “He made comments. Suggestions. Invited my attention-sure. But he never tried anything with me after my consistent nos. I think he knew that I’d quit if he did, and he’d lose the Dome.”

Henry nods. Silhouetted by the city lights, the evening breeze ruffling his thick hair, he looks otherworldly. Tall and tux-clad, with eyes that are almost bruising in their intensity. “Good answer,” he says tightly.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Because if you had phrased that any differently, I’d have had to go downstairs again and find the man.”

“Violent, Mr. Marchand?”

“When provoked,” he echoes. The velvet in his voice is back, and I find myself trapped in his gaze. I don’t want to look away.

We couldn’t come from more different worlds; the power imbalance between us is astronomical. And still, I have the unsettling feeling that no one has ever understood me better.

Henry’s lips curve into a fully fledged smile. It softens his strong features and reveals the faintest hint of a dimple. Is that why he never smiles? Because he doesn’t want to look too human?

No, I think. It’s because it makes him devastatingly handsome.

The smile lights his eyes. “Another staring contest, Faye? You really are twelve.”

“Am I? Look away, then.”

“No,” he says softly. “I don’t think I will.”

And all around us, the city looks on, shining in approval.

Henry

On Monday, by unspoken agreement, Faye and I don’t talk about the Founders’ Gala or the intimate conversation we had on the roof. Doing that would be acknowledgement of the friendship between us, tentative as it might be, something that has no place in the office.

Faye is as prepared for the Monday meeting as always. “You have the ten o’clock meeting with Montgomery on Wednesday. I’ll send them the briefs tomorrow when the architects are done with it.”

“Good. And if they’re not, you have my permission to push them on it,” I say. A few employees in my architect team love to ask for extensions-as if everyone didn’t have to work to meet deadlines.

Faye nods and taps away at her laptop. Her hair is in a high ponytail today, and while it might look severe on other women, it only enhances her features. Her skin looks flawless, like smooth silk. My mind immediately wonders if it’s like that everywhere-but I can’t. She’s off-limits.

And if there is one thing I won’t do, it’s become Elliot Ferris.

“Your trip to Chicago on Thursday is all set and booked, as are your meetings there. I’ll prepare the travel documents and leave them in a binder on your desk Wednesday.”

I doubt I’ve ever looked forward to a trip less, but I’d promised my dad I’d at least take a look at the project. I could ask Faye to come along. She’d be by my side, taking notes, listening intently. If she saw what I feared I would, her feedback might be invaluable.

“I’ll be out of the office most of Thursday, but you know that,” Faye continues. “I’ll set an out-of-office message on my phone, same as on yours. I don’t think we’ll miss too much, but it’s unavoidable.”

Ah, the pitch with Terri.

There’s a faint flush of excitement on Faye’s cheeks. “How’s it coming along? Working with Terri?”

“Great,” she says. “I can’t see how Kyle had a problem with her. The design they worked on is sleek and fulfills the client’s brief. I think the pitch will go very well.”

“I have no doubt of that. You’ll do great.” Faye is competent, brave, and professional-when she wants to be. Taking Kyle off the project had been the right thing to do. The man was talented but a damn pain in the ass sometimes.

Faye’s eyes light up at my words. Dangerous, the voice whispers inside my head again, at how beautiful it makes her look. At how good it feels to see my words having that effect on her.

“Thank you. Is that all for this week?”

I run my fingers along the edge of the oak table. “Is my Wednesday afternoon and evening still free?”

It’s an unnecessary question. I know it is.

“Yes.”

“I’d appreciate your input on the opera house then. Pencil in an hour for us sometime that afternoon.”

She nods and gathers her things. “Absolutely. Did the night at the museum inspire you?”

I think of her eyes, wide with amazement as I showed her the magnifying glass on the roof. The bravery and strength with which she spoke of her time at Elliot Ferris’s. The way her body looked in the golden sheath, the way she felt against my arm, and her cheekiness when she told Avery off.

“Greatly,” I say.

Faye shoots me a smile. “I’ll make sure to have my notes ready for Wednesday, then.”

I watch her leave my office and the door closing behind her. Risky, I tell myself. It’s too risky. And still, I find myself unable to stop wanting her.

That afternoon, Faye’s voice crackles through the intercom, interrupting my reading of an investment proposal.

“Yes?”

“Your sister is on the phone?” It’s spoken like a question-and it’s not hard to imagine why. I’ve never mentioned my family or instructed her about who’s allowed to be patched through, because no one besides Mom is insane enough to call me at work. My sister never has. I frown, my mind running through all kinds of terrible scenarios.

“Put her through.”

I hear the telltale beep. “Hey, Lils.”