Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 67

He glares at me like I'm somehow the reason he's stuck in this flirt trap, but I just shake my head and shrug.

Sorry, dude. Not my monkey and not my circus.

"It's a solid scent," he grinds out. "Is that why you're here? To discuss fragrances?"

"Oh, yeah! Kinda. Lemmy here, she's in charge of supplies and all… I thought your guests might enjoy a complimentary sample of our stuff for the rooms?" She grins like a shark. "We have options for the guys, too. Not just the Sand and Wind one you're wearing. Like so many options. I'm sure you'd love them all if you tried them out."

"Really?" He isn't remotely interested, his eyes going dark with disgust. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll leave you to discuss that with Lemmy. Or if you'd prefer, I'm sure I can find time for your father. Nice meeting you."

Oh my God.

Hearing him say that stupid nickname guts me in a new way. Undaunted, Kayla gives him her signature smile and purrs, "Aw, really?

You're too busy to spare a few minutes? I'd love to get to know you—your needs better, I mean."

Nice, Kayla. Real subtle.

"I'm afraid my schedule's packed today." He puts a hand on the small of her back—which I'm pretty sure is almost enough to kill her—and escorts her out before she makes him punch her number into his phone.

I hear her saying something about how many Instagram followers she has through the door as he closes it.

I can't see her face, but I can picture it. I try not to laugh.

She's fuming.

She wasted an hour with me, waiting for him, only to be shown the door in two minutes.

People don't do that to Kayla Persephone. They just don't.

But I'm pretty glad Patton just did.

"I'm sorry about that," I say as he reappears and—rips off his jacket? He grabs a water bottle and starts splashing it around his neckline, blotting it dry with tissues. "Um, what are you doing?"

"Remind me to never wear this goddamned brand again. It's ruined after meeting her," he mutters.

I giggle before I can help myself. Amazingly, everything almost feels normal again.

Almost.

Then I remember the hulking elephant in the room and my laughter fades.

Here it comes.

The apology, or maybe a grim, guilty-faced lecture about how it was oh- so-unprofessional even though he was the one who initiated the whole thing.

But he just tosses the used tissues into the trash. "Is there a relative Arlo can stay with?" he asks. Huh?

A conference, which is big anyway, and a mini vacation, which I desperately need. When was the last time I had one without Arlo?

God.

"Salem?"

"…this is a lot," I say. "Could I ask around and maybe think about it?"

His gaze sharpens. The hot, conflicted look he gives me makes my stomach knot all over again, though I don't know what it means. It makes me think of last night, but incredibly, he hasn't even mentioned it.

I don't know if I want him to. I don't get what's happening.

"Of course you can," he says, "but I hate to remind you this is a job requirement. It's also an excellent opportunity to broaden your horizons and learn from a crowd who can teach you more than I can. I'll have the company sitter on standby if your usual lady can't help, or I'll comp her myself if she can. This is very last minute and I won't be putting anybody out."

Yeah. So last minute, it feels like the roof is coming down on my head and I don't know where it'll leave me.

"Broaden my horizons… for the job, you mean?" I check.

"Obviously. It's business," he clips. I think he's avoiding the subject I desperately want him to talk about most.

"I see."

"I need you to join me, Salem," he says, and the sound of my name— the way it hovers on his tongue like he's tasting it—is enough to snap my gaze back to him.