Page 36 of Claws and Effect (Paranormal Dating Agency #87)

THIRTY-FIVE

B y mid-morning, Laykin had assembled her operation. The specialty chocolate shop would deliver Zyle’s favorite salted caramels that afternoon. She’d called in favors from three royal libraries to locate the rare poetry volume. The kitchen staff had been dispatched for ingredients to recreate his childhood comfort food.

As she composed a handwritten note for the chocolates, her pen hesitated above the heavy cardstock. What words could possibly convey what had bloomed in her heart these past weeks? How to tell this proud, powerful man that she—who had resigned herself to duty without passion—now found herself falling for him not because of the arrangement, but because of who he truly was?

For the tiger who has everything except time to enjoy it. Take a moment—you’ve earned it.

Simple. Understated. Yet the care behind her precise handwriting spoke what she couldn’t yet voice aloud.

Throughout the afternoon, she orchestrated each element of her plan with the same strategic precision she brought to diplomatic summits. The chocolates arrived at his office during Zyle’s difficult conference call. His favorite business shirt was expertly pressed with cedar cologne added to the collar. A perfect cup of coffee waited on his desk when security alerted her to his approach.

From her vantage point near his office, she watched his reactions through the partially open door. The slight widening of his eyes at the waiting coffee. The pause during his call when he discovered the chocolates, fingers tracing her handwriting with a tenderness that made her heart constrict. The near-imperceptible smile when he found the pressed shirt with its hidden note, which he carefully tucked into his pocket rather than leaving on the desk.

Each small reaction—the softening around his eyes, the gentle way he handled her gifts—told her more than words ever could. This man, who commanded empires with iron control, treasured simple acts of thoughtfulness as if they were precious beyond measure.

And perhaps, to someone who had spent a lifetime putting duty before personal happiness, they were.

As evening approached, a special courier arrived with the carefully packaged poetry volume. Laykin signed for it personally, excitement bubbling through her as she unwrapped the protective layers to reveal the pristine first edition of “North of Boston.”

She waited for Zyle in the library, the book hidden behind her back. When he appeared in the doorway, tie loosened after hours of phone calls, his expression immediately brightened at the sight of her.

“Rough day?” she asked, noticing the tension in his shoulders.

“Better now,” he replied, crossing to press a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for the coffee. And the chocolates. And the shirt.”

“You’re welcome.” Laykin wrapped her free arm around his waist, leaning into his solid warmth for a moment before stepping back. “But I saved the best for last.”

His eyebrow arched in question.

With a small flourish, she presented the poetry volume, watching as recognition dawned in his eyes.

“How did you know?” he asked quietly, fingers reverently tracing the embossed leather cover.

“I pay attention,” she echoed his words from days earlier. “Even tigers deserve beautiful things that serve no practical purpose.”

For a heartbeat, his public mask dropped completely, revealing such naked vulnerability that Laykin’s breath caught in her throat. Before she could speak, he pulled her into his arms, burying his face in the curve of her neck. She held him tightly, understanding that this gift had penetrated defenses built over decades.

“Thank you,” he murmured against her skin, the words vibrating through her body.

Laykin ran her fingers through his hair, savoring the way he relaxed into her touch. She’d seen glimpses of this Zyle before—the man beneath the armor—but each time he surrendered another piece of himself to her felt like a profound gift.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes held an expression she’d never seen from him—a mixture of wonder and something deeper, something that made her heart race with both hope and terror.

“You continually surprise me, Princess,” he said, voice rough with emotion.

“Good.” She brushed her lips against his. “Keeps tigers on their toes.”