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“Good for you. As long as you’re back by eleven to get yourself ready, we’re good. I’ll have the stylist come early to help you out. Saves preparation time later.”
“Okay.” I hesitate for a second. “Umm, Q said something about protection?”
She doesn’t miss a beat, or ask questions. She’s already moved on from our exchange this morning. I love her for that. “Text me the details of where you’re going before you leave the loft. I’ll take care of it.”
“Fionnella?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.
She exhales softly. “You’re welcome.”
I spend the rest of the afternoon lazing about. I watch TV, play a little music. And try not to be craptastically nervous about what is essentially my first ever date.
When the stylist arrives at six, I’m already showered. She checks out the smoky grey halter neck dress and black Blahniks I’ve laid out and applies matching make up. My green eyes look huge and mysterious when she’s finished, and my hair is blow-dried and styled in layered waves down my back.
The confidence boost of looking good helps with the nerves as I wait, cute clutch in hand, for Quinn to arrive.
The security buzzer goes five minutes early.
My lack of dating etiquette bites hard. Should I go down? Should he come up? I press the intercom to release the door and watch him enter.
I pick up my fur-lined black leather jacket and open the front door.
Quinn enters the hallway, sees me and freezes to a halt. I have very little idea how much I’ve missed seeing him until that moment. He’s dressed head to toe in custom-made black with his shirt open at the throat. His dark hair gleams under the hallway light, and broad shoulders fill my vision. When those almost inhuman silver blue eyes meet mine, everything inside me clenches tight.
“Elly.” His voice, like sandpaper on velvet, sets me alight.
“Hi.”
He stares at me for an age, drinks me in, returns for seconds, thirds. Then, still standing in the hallway, a good dozen feet from me, he holds out one hand.
For some reason I’m terrified to step over my threshold.
“You don’t want to come in?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you look like that.” His gaze devours me from head to toe. Then he beckons me with his hand. “We need to leave, Elly. Now.”
I nod, retain enough brain matter to enter the alarm code before I shut the door behind me. He’s still holding out his hand. When I reach him, I take it.
His sharp puff of breath echoes my silent gasp. Touching him is like touching an electric current. There’s no other description. He feels it too, and he stares down at me for another minute.
“Why? Is there something wrong with the way I look?” I ask to fill the tight silence.
“Is there… Hell…You look…” he stops. Then turns and leads me down the hall.
I laugh nervously. “Are you going to finish that sentence?”
He glances back at me as we exit the building. “Whatever you’ve been doing since I last saw you agrees with you. I thought you were beautiful before. Now you’re…perfect.”
My blush stains my cheeks. He sees it and the corner of his mouth twitches. “If you blush at that, then I’m glad I didn’t tell you what I really thought.”
“Try me,” I return with a daring I find from somewhere. I don’t want him to try me. Not really. Time played tricks and lessened the magnitude of Quinn’s dominating presence in my mind. Seeing him again, I’m reminded that I’m dealing with a man whose power and glory seeps from his pores.