Page 12

The bathroom was as luxurious as the rest of the suite. Marble and glass everywhere, thick towels folded in perfect squares. The clothes Diana had mentioned were laid out on a bench—soft gray pants, a loose sweater in deep blue, plain but expensive. Everything in my size.

That should have bothered me more than it did. There’s no way my thick thighs and curves would fit into Diana’s clothing.

Steam filled the massive shower, and I let the scalding water pound against my shoulders until my skin turned pink. No dirt swirled down the drain this time. Diana's work again. But I scrubbed anyway, as if I could wash away the past twenty-four hours with expensive soap and determination.

The mirror was fogged when I finally stepped out. I wiped a clean streak through the condensation and studied my reflection. The bruises on my throat were already fading to yellow-green. Too fast for human healing. Another problem for another time.

I dressed quickly, efficiently, trying not to think about how perfectly the clothes fit. The sweater covered most of the marks. Looking at my reflection, I could almost pass for normal. Just another wealthy woman spending a weekend at a country estate.

The thought nearly made me laugh.

I had two choices. Run—with no resources, no plan, nothing but borrowed clothes and fading bruises. Or go down to the garden and hear what this too-perfect stranger with shifting eyes had to offer.

Neither option felt safe.

But I had no other plan in place. I didn’t know what else to do. All I knew was that I needed to get as far away as possible, as fast as possible, and this sounded like the ticket to do it.

I made my way downstairs, following the mingled scents of roses and something herbal and sweet. The rental cottagefelt like a stage set—beautiful but temporary, with Diana's few personal touches scattered amongst the standard furnishings.

I found her still in the garden. She was walking among the roses with a delicate teacup in her hands. She looked different in the full morning light—still striking, but more real somehow. Her golden braid swayed gently as she moved, and the roses seemed to bloom more vibrantly in her presence, their perfume filling the air.

She looked up as I approached, her smile warming her entire face. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck," I admitted. "The coffee helped, but my head is still pounding."

"This may help," she said, gesturing to a second cup on the garden table. Steam rose from it in fragrant spirals, carrying notes of chamomile, lavender, and something else I couldn't quite place. "My own blend. For healing."

I took the cup, wrapping my hands around its warmth. The first sip spread through me like liquid sunshine, easing the ache behind my eyes.

"I realized I never got your name," she said softly.

My heart stuttered. I hadn't thought this far ahead. My eyes fell on the herb garden beside the roses, the morning dew still clinging to the leaves.

"Juniper," I said quickly. "Juniper Grey."

If she noticed my hesitation, she didn't show it. "Well, Juniper, have you had time to think about my offer? About the assistant position?"

"I have, but I realized you never told me what kind of business it is."

"Matchmaking," Diana said simply, watching my reaction. "He runs a matchmaking service. Very...specialized clientele."

"Matchmaking?" I couldn't keep the surprise from my voice.

How ironic. Matchmaking had almost destroyed me, and now I’d do it to others.

No. This was voluntary. People usually volunteered for matchmaking services, didn’t they?

"Not what you might expect. The business has a unique approach, and the current system could definitely use some organization." Something flickered in her eyes—amusement, maybe. "My friend is excellent at reading people, but the administrative side isn't exactly his strength. The job can come with housing and good pay."

"And you're just...offering this to a complete stranger?" I stared into my tea, watching the herbs swirl in patterns that seemed almost meaningful. A complete stranger who'd just lied about her name.

"Someone who clearly needs a fresh start," she said softly. "Let’s just say that reading people is a specialty of mine. The position is legitimate, and the owner values privacy above all else. No background checks required." Her eyes met mine with quiet intensity. "No questions asked."

"Why help me?" The question came out barely above a whisper.

Her smile was gentle. "Because someone once helped me, when I was running. Sometimes that's all there is to it." She paused, studying my face. "And sometimes, those of us who've had to start over can recognize it in others."

I felt exposed, like she could see right through my hastily constructed Juniper Grey. But there was no judgment in her eyes, only understanding. The tea in my cup had cooled to the perfect temperature, and as I drained the last drops, I felt steadier than I had in weeks.