“Yes, everyone has an origin story,” she continues breezily, as if we’re just two friends having a chat. “Except you.”
“I’m nobody.” I say it slowly, fighting not to snap back and sound defensive. I have worked hard to be nobody, to put my past behind me. I always knew being back in Sabine Valley would rattle the skeletons in my closet, but it’s a small price to pay in order to be part of Abel Paine’s plan to bring the city to its knees.
“Nobody,” Aisling repeats. She props her hip against the desk. “I think you’re somebody, Shiloh. I’d look into your past even if my daughter weren’t fond of you. And Monroe is fond of you.” She narrows green eyes so like her daughter’s. “I’ll do anything to protect my daughters.”
Apparently that protection only extends to your daughters, not anyone else’s.
I shut the thought down before it can show on my face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“See that you do.” She straightens and heads for the door, opening it just as Monroe slips back into the office. “See you tomorrow, darling.”
“Sure.” Monroe flips her hair over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”
Aisling doesn’t know. She can’t know. If she had a clue who I really am, where I really come from, she’d have me removed on the spot, and to hell with the consequences. I’m a blight on the Amazon claim to perfection—or rather, my parents were. Then again, maybe I’m overstating my own importance. I’m just a single woman with a troubled past. Ultimately, I am a cog in the machine. Hardly worth getting worked up over, even is Monroe is fond of me.
“Shiloh.”
I give myself a mental shake. “What can I help you with, Monroe?”
She smiles. Impossible not to notice how perfect her lips are, especially when she’s painted them a bright apple red. Everything about Monroe is perfect. She’s gorgeous, has a body that’s built deceptively strong, and she practically breathes seduction.
I want to hate her.
I really do.
She’s the enemy, and I’ll never forget that, but she’s also… I give myself another mental shake. No use thinking about that, either.
She stands and stretches her arms over her head. Today, she’s wearing high-waisted pants almost loose enough to look like a skirt and a cropped form-fitting top that I mistook for lingerie on the first glance. There is a blazer that matches the pants, but it’s currently draped over the back of her chair.
I wish she’d put it on. That slice of toned stomach showing between her pants and her top is almost as distracting as the curves of her breasts offered up by the structure of the top. It’s not transparent, but that doesn’t stop me from having to fight the urge to search the lace for her nipples.
Yeah, Monroe is dangerous in ways I never could have predicted.
She finishes her stretch and leans a hip against her desk. “You don’t like me.”
“I don’t have an opinion about you one way or another.” Not true. Not true at all. But admitting that I can’t stop picturing her and Broderick having sex, tormenting myself with the images over and over again, is the equivalent of diving into chummed water and hoping the circling shark doesn’t eat me. My odds aren’t good in either scenario.
She smiles like I said something clever. “Jealousy is so exhausting, Shiloh. Why don’t you set it aside for a while?”
“I’m not jealous.” I am 100 percent jealous. It doesn’t matter if I have no right to it. It wouldn’t even matter if I’d ever gotten the courage to admit my feelings to Broderick. Finnegan and Iris are dating, and that didn’t stop Abel from assigning him Matteo of the Mystics as Bride. They were expected to put their relationship on hold, at least long enough for the handfasting to be consummated.
It doesn’t matter what I might have done if I were braver; Broderick and Monroe would still be handfasted, they still would have consummated it the night of Lammas, and things would still be unbearably awkward between me and Broderick. The carefully balanced throuple might have worked with Abel and his two Brides, but Broderick loathes Monroe, and so my being attracted to her would further complicate an already complicated situation.
And that’s the best case scenario.
The worst case being Broderick gently, but firmly, sits me down and explains that while he cares about me, it’s only in a friendly kind of way, without a shred of the attraction that I feel for him. I’m beyond certain our friendship couldn’t survive that step, and I’ll do anything to preserve it.
Even deny myself the one man I want.
“Liar. You are the very definition of jealous.” She says it so casually, I can almost convince myself I misheard her. Monroe stalks toward me, all smooth, predatory movements. “Broderick might be as dense as the brick wall that surrounds the Paine compound, but I like to think I’m not a complete fool.”
Only someone with no sense of self-preservation would ever call Monroe a fool. As she approaches, it feels like the room gets smaller with each step. I hold my ground through sheer force of will. I’ve dealt with scarier people than this woman, but I can’t think of any off the top of my head, not with her so close.
She stops just short of us touching. It’s strange to notice that she’s several inches shorter than me. She feels larger than life, but she can’t be more than five-three. She reaches up with a perfectly manicured finger and winds it through a strand of my hair. “Shiloh.”
It’s everything I can do not to shiver at the dark promise in her voice. I clear my throat. “Is there something you need?”
“There are many things I need.” She tugs on my hair. This time, I lose my battle with the shiver.
