Page 5 of Stolen Voices

“Yea—” My palms are suddenly sweaty, my nerves jittery. I clear my throat, trying to find my voice. “Yes, of course. Thank you. Please, lead the way.”

Desmond nods, ignoring Silla, and gestures for us to follow him.

I run my free hand over my jumpsuit and clutch my notebook tighter.I can do this.

“Desmond, darling,” Silla sneers with a sickly sweet voice. My manager doesn’t take well to being ignored. She likes to be the center of attention. “I’m Silla, Callie’s manager. I’m the one in charge. Remember that.”

What the hell?

Something is off with Silla today. She never drops her “doting manager” pretense in public. I have a feeling that showing the chink in her armor in front of this assistant will not work for her. While I love the prospect of people seeing the real Silla, now isn’t the right time. I need to keep her calm.

She grips my upper arm tight and tugs me to follow Desmond, who leads us through the glass maze towards the awaiting conference room. She lets Mr. Miller’s assistant get a few steps ahead before leaning in and hissing in my ear again. “Keep your mouth shut. I will do all the talking. Just sit there and do as you’re told. Do you hear me?”

She doesn’t whisper low enough, and I can tell Desmond heard every word. His back is stiff, and his steps slow. In my shocked state, my foot catches on the carpet. Silla releases my arm with a shove, aiding my inevitable fall.

In slow motion, I watch as the ground gets closer. I slam my eyes shut, ready for the hit, when out of nowhere, a gentle arm wraps around my waist and stops me from falling. A large, warm hand slides to my hip and steadies me.

When I look up, my lungs seize and the air catches in my throat as I stare into the most unique eyes I’ve ever seen.

Eli Miller.

I’ve seen pictures of him on the internet to prepare for today, and I knew he was good-looking, but pictures do not do him justice. He looks like the living embodiment of Michelangelo’s David.

Perfect. Sculpted. Hard.

Eli is tall and towers over my five-foot-seven frame by at least six inches. He has dark-brown hair that’s long on top—styled to the side and back—and fades from the side down to his impeccably clean five-o’clock shadow. Square jaw, straight nose. But it’s his eyes that do me in.

His mismatching gaze is captivating, simultaneously reminding me of the California coast and the lush forest of the Pacific Northwest. Both comforting and wildly exciting. I could stare at them for ages, trying to identify the various shades of green, gold, blue, and brown that swirl in his irises.

His pupils dilate, and my eyes dip to his mouth as he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip. The sight of his pillowy-pink lips has me wondering how soft they’d feel pressed against mine.

A soft gasp escapes me as heat radiates from where his fingers dig into my hip throughout the rest of my body and settles my chest. A hidden spark I never knew existed ignites and becomes a raging inferno inside me, ready to explode.

Blood roars in my ears, and my cheeks flame as an unfamiliar—yet rather pleasant—warmth settles heavily between my thighs, sparking an innate need for something more.

Well, that’s new.

The skin between his eyebrows pinches, and he drops his hand from my waist as if burned by the fire roaring inside me, breaking whatever weird connection we had.

Eli glares down at me, his narrowed eyes swimming with a range of emotions, but fury takes the lead as his pupils grow wide and his nostrils flare. For some strange reason, my throat swells and tears sting the back of my eyes at the anger directed my way.

Don’t break.

I hold my head high, staring back at him until Silla grabs my arm and yanks me behind her, sliding between us. I wince in pain at the puncture wounds her nails inflict as Silla turns her talons on Eli and slides them down his suit-covered arm.

She drops her voice as seductively low as she can. “Eli Miller, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My sincerest apologies for my client’s behavior. The child is a klutz,” she says, dismissing me.

Child?What the hell? I am twenty-freaking-two.

I wouldn’t have fallen if the she-devil hadn’t put her damn hands on me. My blood boils for a new reason as I stare lasers into the back of Silla’s head.

Without so much as a word, Eli removes his arm from Silla’s grip and walks past her into the conference room. His assistant looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it and follows his boss into the room.

Silla turns to me. “Remember what I said. I’m in charge, or you can kiss your little trips to Malibu goodbye.” She pushes her tits up, flicks her hair over her shoulder like she’s getting ready to meet a date, and walks into the room ahead of me, her hips swaying like the snake she is within.

I watch through the glass as Silla leans in and air-kisses Hudson Campbell, all fake laughs and smiles. I want to throw up, but I need her oblivious to my need to get these guys to sign me. If what everyone says is true, they are the right people for the job and getting me closer to my goal: get rid of Silla.

Of their own accord, my eyes search forhim. He’s seated at the reclaimed wood and iron conference table, in a black leather chair, looking like a boss.