Page 61 of The First Taste

He quirks his brow. “You haven’t guessed?”

I give my head a little shake, examining the shops again. My gaze catches on a lingerie store that I hadn’t previously seen. Keir almost certainly didn’t bring me here to buy myself lingerie though. He probably hasn’t even ever thought once about women’s undergarments and whether or not they exist.

“We’ll be there soon enough,” he says roughly.

I swallow and glance at him, my heart racing a little bit. In all my nineteen years of life, I have nothing that has prepared me for this experience. I hope he doesn’t plan to have me pay for anything, because my bank account at New York City Savings and Loan still only has $600 in it. I haven’t cashed the last two paychecks that I received from the ballet but I have a sinking feeling that I’m going to have to wire that money to my roommates sooner rather than later.

We walk down past several more shops, a hat store and a toy store and the pizzeria that the woman was feeding her children from. At last, Keir pulls me to a stop in front of a particular store. I look up at it, my brow furrowed.

“Tamar’s,” I read quietly. In the window displays on either side of me, I see several chicly dressed yet modest mannequins, all in boring earth tones. It kind of reminds me of a place that my mom really likes to shop in Atlanta. Upscale, but definitely age-appropriate to the generation before me.

Squinting at Keir, I tilt my head. “What is this?”

Keir eyes me coolly. “I thought you could use some new clothes.”

I arch a brow at him. “Oh yeah? Based on what exactly?”

His expression betrays a hint of annoyance. His upper lip lifts in a hint of a snare. “You don’t seem to own anything that covers any more than your upper thighs. I’m doing you a favor. Trust me. Now come on.”

He takes my upper arm and pulls me roughly.

My heart jumps at the grip he has on me. I can’t stop myself from reaching out with my free hand and pushing him back half a step. His face twitches and he growls at me.

Backing me up a half step toward the building, he moves aggressively and quickly. “Listen to me, Ella…”

He is about to chew me out. I have heard the tone before, in my own father, the teachers that would get angry whenever I failed to complete their assignments, in the faces of angry customers when I had that part time job as a hostess at an upscale restaurant. His bearing changes, his posture stiffens, and he gets an all knowing, superior look in his eyes. But just as his lips part, a woman’s voice coughs so delicately that it surprises both of us. We step to the side, looking at her, surprise on both of our faces.

She smiles and peers at Keir, clearly recognizing him. “Lord Grayrose. It’s so nice to see you again, out and about this time. No pesky private land rules here.” She smiles widely and glances at me meaningfully. “And you must be Ella.” She sticks her hand out and moves toward me. “So nice to meet you.”

My honest first instinct is to shrink back from her approach rather than shake her hand. She’s smiling all right. But there is a menacing gleam to her eyes and a saccharine flavor to her over-niceness. As I call back protectively, Keir pushes me behind his body, suddenly aggressively protecting me. I am awestruck because just a second ago he was about ready to rip off my head. But now, he looks like he would do real harm to anyone foolish enough to lay hands on me.

This is the first time I have ever been in this situation and it honestly turns me on in a way that I didn’t know was even possible. I flush and breathe shallowly, my eyes darting back-and-forth between the stranger and Keir.

“I would step back if I were you,” Keir tells her. His entire demeanor is menacing, his posture like he is ready to brawl.

I put my hand on his arm, knowing that I don’t stand a chance if he actually decides to take a swing at this lady. She smiles beatifically at us both, bringing out a pad of paper and a pen.

“I was hoping to run into you guys,” she says. “You see, I have a lot more questions about Max and his death. The things he saw, what he did leading up to his untimely murder, and of course the connection between you two that seemed to interest him so much.” She clicks her pen, giving me a devilish smile. “Ella, any thoughts on any of that?”

I blink convulsively and my fingernails dig into Keir’s arm. He shoots me a tiny look of disappointment and then pushes me another inch behind him, standing his ground.

“No comment. Like I said before, I think you should leave.”

She rolls her eyes but never loses her upbeat smile. “Keir! You know that this is a public sidewalk. You can’t ask me to leave. I have as much right to be here as you do.”

He stands so still for a few seconds that I think he might actually hit her. Obviously she thinks so, too, because she steps back, holding up her notepad and pen.

“Well? What do you have to say? You know you might as well just tell me what the secret is that you’re hiding from me. Because your girl there? She looks guilty as hell. And when the secret eventually comes out, I will purposely make it as painful and as dramatic as possible. I’m a journalist, so you know that I’ll make sure it hurts you both. That is, unless you have anything that you want to tell me…”

My eyes widen. This woman is a journalist? God, no wonder Keir bristled when she came into view. I wet my lips and try to slow down my breathing, which is practically hyperventilating by now.

The woman leans closer and extends her hand toward me, holding out a business card. Before I can take it, Keir slaps it out of her hand and growls.

“I said no comments. That’s what I meant. And if you don’t hightail it out of here, I am going to call the police. Trust me, I donate millions to the police fund every year. They won’t think twice about slapping a pair of handcuffs on you.”

The journalist’s smile falters and for the first time, she looks a little worried. She squints at Keir and then tosses her head.

“Ella? I don’t know what this guy has told you. But he has the craziest history I’ve ever had the displeasure of researching. When you get tired of being lied to and manipulated, you should call me. My name is Wendy Allen.”