by Lola Gabriel
“Are you crazy?” he asked. “You think you can just storm in here and demand I hire you?”
Cassia’s eyes narrowed, and she scowled. “You already did hire me. It’s you who didn’t honor your end of the deal. That doesn’t say a lot for a man in your position, does it?”
She’s acting like she doesn’t know who I am. “Get out of my room.”
“Not until you agree to honor your obligations to my firm,” she retorted without hesitation. “You bailed, not me.”
“Ms. St. John, if you don’t get out of my room, you’re about to see a very dark side of me,” Wilder growled, but to his absolute amazement, she held her ground.
“No.”
“No?” he echoed dubiously. “No?” He felt his body tense, a shift inevitable, when suddenly, he understood what he was seeing in the woman that held him from transforming into his dragon form and scaring her into submission.
“You heard me. I’m not going anywhere.”
He blinked, studying her face with renewed interest. “Do you live here?” he asked, and the question took her aback.
“What?”
“Do you live on the Sunside?”
Cassia’s brow knit, and she cocked her head. “Are you speaking English?”
A peculiar sense of unease settled in Wilder’s bones, and he silently cautioned himself not to say anymore.
“Where are you from?” he asked instead.
“I have lived in New Jersey my entire life,” Cassia told him haughtily. “You won’t find an agent who is more knowledgeable about the area, the neighborhoods, or the people than me. If you refuse to let me represent you, you’ll regret it.”
“Are you threatening me?” He could hardly believe he was having such a conversation, but the reality was impossible to ignore.
“It’s not a threat, Mr. Wilder. It’s a business arrangement.” She stared at him, unflinching, and Wilder had never been so bewildered in his life.
“If I agree to this, you’ll leave?” he sputtered, befuddled by the fact that he was caving to this woman’s blackmail.
“No,” she answered. “I’ll leave when I think you’re telling me the truth about hiring me back as your agent. Don’t think I’m going to walk out of here and you’re going to get on the phone with my boss.”
“I’ll keep you on as my agent,” Wilder told her slowly. She maintained her eye contact, apparently reading his face for signs of deceit.
“Fine,” she relented, spinning toward the door, her black hair fanning behind her. Wilder was enshrouded in the scent of lavender and honey. “I have four appointments for the morning,” she told him as she reached for the door. “I’ll have a limo waiting for you at eight a.m. in the lobby. Don’t be late. You’ve kept me waiting far too long.”
Then she left, and Wilder could do nothing but remain in place, staring at the door as he tried to understand what had just happened.
She doesn’t know who I am, which means she doesn’t know who she is… how is that possible?
Cassia’s words repeated in his head. “I have lived in New Jersey my entire life.”
It defied all logic, and yet somehow, Wilder knew it was true: Cassia St. John had no idea that she was a sorceress. She didn’t know the Hollows existed.
Wilder wondered if he was going to be the one to shatter her mortal sense of consciousness.
4
Cassia’s heart was pounding so loudly, she was sure everyone in the elevator could hear it. What she had just done could only have two outcomes: reclaiming her client, or being fired and blacklisted from the real estate community. She sincerely hoped for the former.
She hadn’t expected Wilder Parker to have such an impact on her seeing him face-to-face. Sure, she’d seen pictures of him when researching him and his businesses. Cassia had known he was handsome, but nothing had really prepared her for the intensity of his dark blue eyes and almost overbearing presence. And he had looked at her like he’d been looking into her soul.
She knew she’d taken a big gamble by being there, but her options were limited. The last thing she wanted to do was go back to the office and tell Val that she hadn’t reclaimed her client. Still, she was mildly unsettled about how easily Wilder had caved to her request.
Evan had called earlier to inform her that Wilder was in town, and Cassia hadn’t wasted any time getting over to the Parker Harbor Hotel and confronting him. But as she stepped off the elevator and made her way to the parking lot, she couldn’t help feeling that Wilder had somehow gotten one up on her.
He’s a client you never have to deal with again once you find him a location for his headquarters here. Cassia asked herself why she didn’t believe that for a second.
She climbed into her car and started it, the desire to put distance between her and Wilder Parker suddenly insurmountable. Before she could put the car in drive, her cell rang, and she answered it on her Bluetooth. “Cassia St. John.”
“Are you hungry?” She immediately recognized Wilder Parker’s voice.
“Uh…”
“It’s dinnertime. Traffic is going to be terrible,” Wilder continued. “I can see you sitting in your car, so I know you haven’t left yet.”
“I… have another appointment,” she lied.
“That’s a terrible way to keep your clients happy,” he taunted her. “I would think after the way you burst in here, you’d want to keep me entertained.”
“Why do I get the distinct impression that I’m doing that anyway, dinner or not?”
“No idea. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten. I just want to change.”
Cassia gritted her teeth as she debated her answer, but to her surprise, he had already hung up, leaving her to grip the steering wheel with white knuckles.
He’s so damned cocky, she thought with annoyance. No one has ever stood up to him in their lives. He thinks this is funny. What a jerk. She asked herself why she was still sitting there, waiting for him to arrive when she knew exactly the kind of man she was dealing with.
Cassia had been raised to be independent, probably to a fault. She didn’t need anyone, and when others tried to interfere with her steadfast rules, she was unflinching. It was unsurprising that she had remained single for most of her adult life—no one could possibly rise to the standards she held. Being alone was so much less drama.
“I can drive if you want.” She started as the passenger door opened and Wilder slid inside. He had been faster than she had expected.
“No one drives my car but me,” she retorted. “Buckle up.” Wilder seemed genuinely amused by her instruction, but he pulled the belt across his chest. Only then did Cassia put the car in drive. “What’s your preference for dinner?” she asked.
“You’re the one who knows New Jersey so well,” he replied mockingly. “I would think that you would be able to find a good restaurant at a minimum.” She scowled.
“I was being polite,” she snapped. “Of course I know restaurants. I thought maybe you had a favorite cuisine.” He didn’t reply, but Cassia could feel his eyes on her face as though he was memorizing her every move. “Fine. Italian it is.”
“Well, we are in New Jersey,” Wilder quipped, and Cassia couldn’t stop the smirk from forming on her lips.
“That might be racist.”
Wilder snorted and turned to look out the window. “Tell me about yourself,” he said in a tone which sounded very much like an order.
“You tell me about yourself,” she countered, and he chortled.
“Do you always fight?”
“Do you always ask so many questions?”
“Do you always answer a question with a question?”
Cassia was becoming annoyed. “Mr. Parker, I am happy to take you to dinner and discuss your needs—”
She stopped speaking as the words came out, her face flushing with humiliation. She hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. To her great relief, though, he didn’t seem to pick up anything sexual about her statement.
“But?” he asked when she didn’t immediately continue.
“But this is not a date.” God, why did I say that? She was furious at herself for bringing the conversation there, and through her peripheral vision, she could see he was just as surprised that she had.
“I never claimed this was a date,” Wilder growled, seeming offended by her suggestion. “I realize you don’t know me, but I think my reputation speaks for itself, Ms. St. John. I’m not a predator.” Cassia’s face was on fire. She didn’t know how they had gotten off on such bad footing.
Well, actually, that’s not true—I did burst into his suite and force myself on him. If possible, her face turned even more crimson. The innuendo was flooding her mind faster than she could stop it.
“I never said that,” Cassia replied quietly.
“What are you saying?”
“Nothing.” For the first time since meeting Wilder Parker in the flesh, Cassia felt herself backing down. They drove in silence for several minutes. “So…” she cleared her throat. “I have a general idea of your needs in terms of space, but we haven’t spoken about—”
“Let’s just wait until we’re sitting face to face, okay? I’m starving, and I don’t think I can focus on business until I’ve eaten.” She wondered if that was a cop out, but she didn’t push the issue. “Are you parents still alive?”
Cassia’s back tensed so rigidly, she thought it would snap.
“What?” she asked tersely.
“Your parents. Where are they?” She turned her head and gazed at him.
“Why do you care?” she demanded, her resolve to be more tactful dissolving. He returned her deadpan expression.
“Just making conversation,” he answered smoothly. Cassia, however, sensed there was much more to his question than that.
“That’s personal.”
“So they’re dead. Did you know them?”
Her lips parted in shock. “You really missed the day in charm school where they taught you about polite discussion, huh?”
“I think you missed the same classes.”
She chewed on the insides of her cheeks. “My mother is still alive.”
Wilder leaned to the side almost imperceptibly, but she was acutely aware of every move he made, his masculine scent causing a strange feeling of near drunkenness in her. “Is she?”
Cassia didn’t want to discuss her mother, and not just because this was Wilder Parker. It was a sore subject with anyone, and she wished he wouldn’t push it. To her relief, he seemed to sense her anxiety and clamped his mouth closed.
“Here we are. Carmelo’s. Finest osso bucco this side of the Atlantic.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Cassia pulled up to the valet, handed off the keys, and met Wilder on the other side of the BMW. Surprisingly, he extended an arm for her to take. She eyed it reluctantly, as though she was afraid it would burn her if she touched it, but Wilder waited until she accepted his startling chivalrous action.
It’s not chivalry—he’s claiming me for everyone to see, she thought. That didn’t stop her from taking his arm, and when her long fingers touched the soft silk of his expensive jacket, a fission of excitement coursed through her, his closeness almost overwhelming her. Keep it together, Cassia. He’s just another handsome, powerful man. They’re a dime a dozen. He’s not even very nice. Yet no amount of reason could stop her from getting caught up in the strange sensation which enveloped her.
“Table for two,” Wilder announced to the maître d’. “Something private, quiet.”
“Have you a reservation, sir?”
“Does Wilder Parker ever need a reservation?” Wilder replied evenly. Instantly, his name was recognized, and the man’s face lit up.
“Of course not, Mr. Parker! Right this way. I have a lovely booth for you and your lady friend.”
I’ve taken a trip back to the sixties. Lady friend, Cassia thought with some disgust, but she held her tongue and permitted herself to be led toward the back of the dimly lit restaurant. They were seated and left with menus, and Cassia realized there was nowhere to look but into Wilder’s penetrating eyes.
“I—” he started to say, but his phone rang, cutting off his words. Grunting, he held up a finger and pulled the device from the inside pocket of his black jacket. “What is it, Cybil?”
Cybil is the bitch who fired me, Cassia remembered. She darted her eyes back toward the menu, even though she was certain she was going to have the linguini, as she always did. It was the chef’s specialty. Why did I bring him here? she asked herself, abruptly shocked at her own actions. This is my favorite restaurant.
She’d never brought a client here before. She reasoned that it was on the way, but she knew that wasn’t entirely true. Something inherent had led her there with Wilder.
“Well, then tell him I’m not coming,” Wilder grumbled. “I told you, I found another agent.” Cassia tuned back into the conversation and raised an eyebrow with interest. “I don’t care! You deal with it,” he snapped. “I’ll talk to you when I get home.” Wilder ended the call and tossed the cell onto the table, rolling his eyes.
“Something wrong?” Cassia asked.
“No. I was supposed to be meeting with another realtor right now.”
“What?”
“Oh, don’t get uptight. I told you that I was keeping you on.”
Cassia gaped at him. “You stood up another realtor?” she demanded, her face tinged with anger. “And you didn’t even bother to call and tell him?”
Wilder seemed stunned by her outburst. “You just heard me tell my assistant to deal with it,” he replied slowly. “What’s the big deal?”
She scoffed. “The big deal, Mr. Parker, is that you are so egomaniacal that it doesn’t occur to you that other people are losing money catering to your whims! You might have more money than God, but you suck as a human being.”
Cassia was almost shaking, furious that she had almost been taken in by him despite knowing what a jerk he was.
“Why are you so mad? Is he a friend of yours?”
“Are you joking right now?” she questioned. “Does he have to be a friend of mine to have compassion for him?” Wilder gazed at her, unspeaking, and Cassia snorted, avoiding his look. If she had to explain how to be decent to someone like him, what was the point?
Without speaking to her, Wilder reached for his phone and dialed out.
Great. Now he’s going to brush me off for the rest of the night because I called him on being an ass. Typical egomaniac response.
“Cybil, patch me through to that agent,” Wilder said into the phone. Cassia’s head jerked up. Wilder gave her a half-smile.
“What are you doing?”
He held up a finger. “Randy Miller? This is Wilder Parker. We had a meeting today and I blew you off?” Cassia’s jaw fell at his phrasing. “No, no, that’s not true—I knew about the appointment, and I didn’t bother to honor it… Reschedule? No, that won’t be necessary, because I’ll just stand you up again. Anyway, I have a new agent… No, I suppose I’m calling to tell you that it was a prickish thing to do and let you know I’m aware of that fact now… Okay, great. Take care now.”
He replaced the phone on the table, and Cassia laughed shortly.
“That was cruel.”
His brow furrowed. “I thought that was what you wanted me to do.”
“What I wanted?” She found herself eyeing him warily. “It was the decent thing to do, but maybe with a little more finesse?”
Wilder beamed at her, his white teeth glinting against the flickering candlelight.
“Baby steps?” he offered, and Cassia snickered again, but she felt her guard slipping as she reached for her water and took a long sip.
Maybe he’s not so bad. Maybe he just needs some work.
5
“Atom, I need you to investigate something for me.”
The Lycan jumped as if he’d been burned and whirled around in his chair to stare at Wilder. “Mr. Parker! I-I
didn’t hear you come in!”
The dragon prince ignored Atom’s surprise and ventured further into the security room. “I’m looking for information on a woman—a sorceress,” he told Atom. “Cassia St. John.”
Atom frowned. “You have full access to the database,” he said slowly. “Why don’t you check…?” He didn’t add “yourself” at the end, probably realizing too late how disrespectful it sounded. The question already annoyed Wilder enough as it was.
“You think I didn’t?” Wilder snapped. “I wouldn’t be coming to you if I could do it myself, obviously!” Atom paled under Wilder’s withering gaze.
“St. John?” he asked timidly. “That is an unusual name for the Hollows.”
Wilder smiled thinly. He debated how much to disclose about the real estate agent he’d found on the Sunside. Or rather, the one who had found him. Their bizarre union still tickled and disturbed Wilder simultaneously. It defied logic that someone could not know they were a product of the Hollows, particularly not a sorceress, yet Cassia seemed oblivious to her roots.
Where did she come from? Wilder had, of course, heard of immortals living on the Sunside, but never had he heard of one not knowing from where she came. Why would her parents hide her background from her unless they were running from something themselves?
Wilder intended to find out. As he had told Atom, his own search had proved fruitless, though he had suspected as much. Anyone who wanted to be hidden wouldn’t be in the database, he was certain, and as Atom had said, St. John was not a surname that would be found in the Hollows.
“I’ll see what I can find out, Mr. Parker.”
“She’s a real estate agent in Newark,” Wilder added as an afterthought. “See if you can’t find out about her on the Sunside. It’ll be easier to work backward.” He turned to leave.
“Mr. Parker, have you given any further thought to what I told you about the shift?”
Wilder paused, but he didn’t turn.
“I told you that you’re losing your damned mind, if I recall correctly,” he snapped. “I hope you’re not running around shooting off your mouth to others about this harebrained theory.” There was a silence long enough to cause Wilder to turn. “You haven’t been yapping to people about this, have you, Atom?”
