Chapter Fourteen

Elle

THREE DAYS LATER, my life had returned to normal.

No more sleepless nights thanks to Mr. Everett—they were sleepless because of my guilt toward Nameless. Mundane mornings on the treadmill flowed into agonizing afternoons with board meetings.

Life was controllable once again.

Fleur continued to help me run the empire while Dad took a few days off at my insistence. His skin had lost some color, and I’d caught him coughing the other day with a rattle I didn’t like.

If it was the flu, I wanted him safe and warm at home while Marnie, the cook, made him healthy snacks. I didn’t want opportunistic germs straining his already strained heart.

Steve helped me host a few conference calls from Beijing and Montreal about our new infant line releasing next month, and work once again tugged me deep into its clutches, erasing any memory of tipping alcohol onto some stranger’s head.

Until the third day when I scooped Sage up and headed to the shop floor for a quick walk around.

I did random inspections throughout the week—never announced or fore-planned, so employees weren’t prepared.

If I had a spare fifteen minutes, I found no better place to stretch my legs than strolling around the racks of new-smelling merchandise, eyeing up displays, spying on staff, and scoring any areas that needed tweaking.

As the elevator carried me from the top floor to the bottom, the mirrored walls showed Sage as she lay over my shoulders, tapping my dangling crystal earring that matched the ivory dress with soft caramel lace.

The lacy panel covered my chest and worked in a flower pattern to flare over my hips before reconvening at the hem.

Fleur had added it to my paperwork pile to take home with me last week.

I’d thought it was too detailed and feminine for work attire, but when I’d tried it on this morning, I didn’t want to take it off.

The paleness of it should’ve washed out my blonde complexion; instead, it made me glow as if I’d just stepped off a plane from Tahiti.

Not that I knew what that was like.

The only air travel I did was to factories around the world, and I ended up wearing ear protection and overalls while marching around in heavy boots with a clipboard.

The doors opened with a soft chime, and I strode forward in matching caramel heels, clipping quickly over the anti-slip driftwood-planked floor that our focus groups said calmed them with the gray tones and encouraged spending mentality.

Everything—from the warm beige on the walls, to the deep purple curtains in the changing rooms—was chosen by a color guru who convinced us purple made people believe they were rich because it was the color of royalty and wealth, and beige stole their worries and stress, allowing them to see the treasure trove of merchandise that could all be theirs for the small price ticket tucked demurely inside.

“What department should we investigate first, Sage?” I murmured so as not to attract attention from shoppers.

Not that I could avoid being noticed, seeing as I strode purposely through Belle Elle with a cat wrapped around my shoulders.

Luckily, she was of the small variety and not tubby like some cats I’d seen.

I glanced toward the lingerie department where an equal number of awkward men bought gifts for their loved ones while bold women brazenly fingered G-strings and garter belts.

I knew the manager, Kim, would keep her staff in line; the displays were impeccable with its small scaffold of pantyhose, playful kink, and lace.

I wouldn’t waste my time on areas I didn’t need to improve.

Narrowing my eyes, I searched for sloppily folded sale items or imbalanced banners or scruffy shop assistants.

The houseware section was a little messy with its figurines and lamp cords. The women’s shoe department needed a memo to tell them to pick up empty boxes from customers pulling them from the shelves.

And children’s wear would definitely earn a slap on the wrist for a banner promising twenty percent off bibs when a high chair was bought.

That promotion ended two days ago.

However, the area that set my heart racing with chaos was the man’s division where five-thousand dollar blazers were tossed over racks, obscuring pressed trousers and faultless shirts.

Ties draped over mannequin arms like streamers, and the sock table was a rummaged disaster.

Sage meowed softly, most likely saying in kitty talk for me to calm down before I found the unsuspecting manager and fired him on the spot.

“Where the hell is he and his staff?” Striding forward, my hands curled as yet more disorder revealed itself. A shirt had fallen off its hanger and lay on the floor. The floor!

Belts tangled in a viper-nest on the cash register.

~What the hell is going on?~

“Three warnings, my ass,” I muttered. “This is grounds for instant dismissal.”

I didn’t care the men’s department hardly ever covered the extravagance it cost to run with its cashmere imported material and on-site tailor from Savile Row.

This was Belle Elle, and it had severely let my company down.

“What’s the manager’s name again?”

Sage snuffled into my neck.

“You’re no help.”

She meowed.

No matter how many racks I charged down, looking for a victim wearing a Belle Elle nametag and noticeable lavender work shirt, I couldn’t find anyone. Not one.

~Where on earth are they?~

There should be at least three to four staff manning this section at all times.

My eyes fell on the brightly lit sign for the changing rooms.

I shouldn’t.

Women weren’t permitted in there. But surely, the boss was.

Tilting my chin with authority, I marched through the archway and slammed to a stop.

If I thought the shop floor was a disaster, the changing rooms were a catastrophe.

Clothes everywhere!

Thousands of dollars of merchandise on the floor and piles drowning the leather-studded ottomans.

“What is the meaning of this?” I placed my hands on my hips as four men—who I paid a decent hourly wage and should be on the shop floor enticing people to buy—all gathered around something of utter fascination.

Something I couldn’t see.

The floor manager swiveled in place, his mouth falling open. “Oh, hello, Ms. Charlston. I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.”

“You didn’t see me because clothes are ~everywhere~.”

“It looks like a World War Ten started in here.” I motioned to the pyramids of expensive suits just crumbled on the floor as if they were five-dollar t-shirts. “Clean this mess up, immediately.

“And get your staff at front of house. There’re no assistants out there.”

“Of course, Ms. Charlston.” The manager nodded; his identification tag showed his name was Markus. “Right away.” Clicking his fingers, he snapped, “George, Luke, get back out there.

“Ryan and I can finish with Master Steel.”

Instantly, the two younger staff members dropped the shirts looped over their arms onto the already overflowing ottoman and dashed past me with respectful, apologetic smiles.

I didn’t watch them go. I couldn’t. My gaze glued to the little human I hadn’t seen thanks to staff and shirts surrounding him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry; I didn’t know I’d interrupted something.” I glanced at Markus. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because you’re right, ma’am. We don’t need four attendants to dress one child.”

I eyed the kid who stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, swimming in men’s trousers and a blazer that came to his knees. I gave him a quick smile, moving closer to Markus.

“Why is he in the men’s department and not in children’s wear? He’ll never find anything to fit him.”

The boy looked at me in the mirror, not bothering to turn around. “I’m not a kid.”

I startled at the sharp staccato of his adolescent voice. The pinched look in his cheeks and wildness in his gaze spoke of a child running out of patience and either close to tears or temper.

I hadn’t been around many kids, but I guessed he was nine or ten.

“I want a suit. Penn said I could have a suit. Like him. I want to dress like him and Larry.”

Sage squirmed on my shoulders, squinting at the boy. Just like me, she wasn’t used to bossy children. Not equipped to reply to a sentence I had no way of understanding, I looked back at Markus.

“Can you explain?”

Markus grinned at the boy. “Of course. This is Stewart. He prefers Stewie, though, don’t you?”

The boy nodded. “Stewie.” He poked a finger into his chest. “That’s me.”

“Okay…” I smiled as if it was a perfectly acceptable name and not a thick-type soup I found utterly unappetizing. “And Stewie wants a suit.”

Stewie grinned, showing a gap in his front teeth where a baby tooth had fallen, and an adult one had yet to appear. “Yup. Penn is helping. He said all men have to have at least three suits.

“One for a wedding, a funeral, and business.”

“A funeral?” My heart sank. “Is that where you’re going?”

“No.” Stewie brushed chestnut hair away from his face, eyeing his rosy cheeks in the mirror and ears that slightly protruded. “But it’s better to be prepared. That’s what he and Larry always say.”

I moved forward, my hand sliding upward to scratch Sage as she hissed at the small creature. “And who are Larry and Penn? Your fathers?” The world was an open society these days.

Larry and Penn could be married. Or they could be his uncles or teachers or just friends. Or brothers. Hell, Larry and Penn could be generous kidnappers for all I knew.

Stewie screwed up his nose. “Ha, that’s funny.” His mirth faded. “Wait…I kinda suppose they are. Now, I mean. I never had a dad before.” His angular face brightened.

He wasn’t chubby like some children of his age were. He had a hard edge about him that couldn’t be tamed, even in the ridiculously huge suit with cuffs hanging over his hands like penguin flippers.

I glanced over my shoulder to Markus. “Where are his fathers? Why are you and my staff playing babysitter?”

“Um, he’s only here with one gentleman, Ms. Charlston. And he just popped out for a moment. Urgent phone call, I believe.” He shuffled. “But he made the mess, not us.

“He and Stewie tried to find something smaller—smaller belts, socks, ties—an entire wardrobe, you understand.

“We settled on agreeing that Stewie would pick a suit he liked, and then we’d send it to be tailored to fit him.”

My eyes widened. “But that will end up being an entirely new suit. There is no way a tailor can turn a man’s thirty-eight into a boy’s twelve.”

“But isn’t that what I’m paying for?” a cool, svelte voice murmured behind me. It throbbed with glamour while somehow bordered curt impatience. “Isn’t that what Belle Elle prides itself on?

“Providing what other stores cannot? Because if it isn’t…then my apologies; we’ll go somewhere else.”

I spun in place, my heart already leaping into a churning sea at his tone.

The moment my eyes locked onto the newcomer’s dark brown ones, the past three sleepless nights and long hours caught up with me.

Shaking hijacked my arms and not because I’d upset a customer and tarnished a little of what he rightfully said was our motto but because it was him.

~Him!~

“You.”

“Yes, me.” Mr. Everett smirked. “Nice to see you again.”

“What are you doing here?”

He rolled his shoulders, his fingers tightening around his phone. “Same thing as everyone else, I suspect. Putting our money into your pockets.”

I crossed my arms. “Yet you leave your son for my staff to babysit. That isn’t part of their job description.”

“I apologize. It was an urgent call and only lasted a few minutes.” He looked past me to the boy swimming in wool and hand stitching. “You okay, Stew? Find something you like?”

Stewie turned and headed toward us, his feet dragging the trouser lengths like clown socks behind him. “Yep. I like this one.”

Mr. Everett eyed the soft gray with navy blue pin striping. “Me too. Good choice.”

Stewie shrugged out of the blazer and passed it to Markus who stood ever professional, minding his own business.

I couldn’t decide if I wanted to run away or shove this miscreant out of my store. Son or no son.

~Wait…he has a son.~

He’s married to a man named Larry and has a son.

Not only had my father got the story completely wrong at the bar, but Mr. Everett had also fibbed about being interested in me and having a ‘knack’ with women.

My temper steamed, and before I could censor, I said, “Turns out you’re full of lies, Mr. Everett.”

His eyes narrowed as a dark cloud settled over his face.

“Excuse me?” He opened his arm as Stewie slotted himself against his side, reaching for his phone and swiping in the passcode to pull up Angry Birds.

I stepped back as Sage sank her claws into my neck in warning.

~Good call, kitty.~

I let my arms fall, and tension disperse. It meant nothing that he’d lied or that he was gay. Why hadn’t I seen it? Of course, he was gay.

He was far too well dressed and manicured in every way—trim nails, groomed eyebrows, and thick sorrel hair with the occasional honey highlight. That couldn’t be natural.

He wasn’t natural.

He was fake.

And I was done.

“I apologize for interrupting your shopping experience.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your visit to Belle Elle.” Stepping forward, I did my best to avoid his bulk in the narrow hallway with changing rooms on either side.

He wasn’t courteous and didn’t step aside to let me pass. He just stood there, giving me the choice to squeeze past the small gap or wait and glare into his eyes.

The same eyes that had molten heat and a perpetually pissed expression. He was like sugar and salt, pollen and poison—someone dangerous.

Prickles of self-preservation urged me to leave while frissons of curiosity whispered for me to stay.

I didn’t like either.

I didn’t like him.

Needing to gain control, I looked at Markus. “Please ensure this department is tidy as soon as possible.

“And ask the tailor to triple check Stewie’s measurements so the alterations are perfect first time.”

“Yes, Ms. Charlston.”

“His name is Master Steel. Not Stewie,” Mr. Everett clipped. “Just like I’m Mr. Everett to you and Penn to him and you’re Ms. Charlston to everyone and never Noelle.”

~What the hell does that mean?~

I stiffened. “Let me pass.”

“No.”

I sucked in a breath. “Don’t ruin a nice afternoon out for your son, Mr. Everett.

“Your husband would be very sad to receive a phone call saying you’d been arrested for disrupting the peace in my department store.”

His body shifted from tense to downright nasty. His hands opened and closed as if he’d like nothing more than to strangle me. His gaze flickered to Sage around my nape then back to my face.

He didn’t seem surprised I wore a silver cat as an accessory. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His lips quirked at the corners. “For your information, I’m not married.

“And I prefer my dates with tits rather than balls.”

I flinched. “Hardly suitable conversation with a child present.”

Stewie mumbled with his eyes glued to Angry Birds. “I’ve heard worse. Believe me.”

“Worse?”

What sort of environment did Mr. Everett expose this kid to? Why was he so skinny? Should I get child services to do a ‘random’ house call?

“If you recall, Ms. Charlston, I asked you to go to dinner with me the other night. Why would I do that if I wasn’t interested in women?”

I ignored his question. It didn’t matter what his sexual orientation was or his reason for asking me out.

I wasn’t interested in either answer.

“I’m not sure why you had the need to inform an impartial stranger of your relationship preferences, Mr. Everett, but I can assure you, I don’t care in the slightest.”

I moved forward, nudging his shoulder with mine, letting Sage’s tail flick his throat as I circumnavigated toward the exit. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have more pressing things to attend to.”

I looked at the little boy. “Goodbye, Master Steel. I hope you like your new suit.”

Without a backward glance, I marched as prim and proper as I could, yet some feminine part of me put an extra swagger in my hips.

My own body irritated me, wanting to come across as aloof and sexy when really I shouldn’t give a damn.

I ~didn’t~ give a damn.

I’d dumped his drink on his head a few days ago, and now I’d told him off while he was spending ~his~ money in ~my~ store.

~Oh, well.~

That was all he was good for.

Adding to the bottom line and becoming nothing more than a nuisance on my day’s agenda.

“Come on, Sage. Let’s go back to the office.” I made my way quickly through the racks, noticing the mess had been tamed to its usual regimented glory.

The long sweeping walkway linking the departments beckoned; I increased my speed.

Something strong and unbreakable latched around my wrist, yanking me backward.

I tripped in my heels, falling.

I crashed against a very warm, very unmovable, very,~very~ toned chest.

Sage meowed, leaping from my shoulders with feline grace and landing on her feet as whoever had the audacity to grab me spun me around and planted two possessive hands on my upper arms.

“You don’t get to do that again.”

I focused on his mouth and how damn close it was. How his aftershave reeked of heavy notes and woodsy musk. How his fingers dug into me like talons.

How dare he touch me like that?

How dare he believe he had the right to leap over bounds of propriety and somehow trap me in the middle of an argument I wasn’t even aware existed.

Snatching my arms from his grip, I glowered. “Don’t get to do what?”

“Be rude and leave.” His glare laced with dynamite. “At least, this time, you don’t have access to liquids.”

“If I did, I know where I’d pour them.”

His temper crackled, igniting a magnetic field between us until invisible lines of energy lashed us together. Confused energy. Misplaced energy.

Energy that couldn’t possibly spark to the same frequency when I couldn’t stand the sight of him.

“You’ll never do that to me again.”

“I agree.” I nodded with a perfect snap. “Because I plan on never seeing you again. Glad we could agree on something for a change.”

He rubbed his jaw, looking me up and down.

“You said you never wanted to see me again at the restaurant, yet here we are.” He looked around the store, noticing what I’d already seen—that we were alone amongst a lake of clothes, hidden by towers of suede jackets and designer jeans.

He stepped closer, backing me up into a rack of limited edition laptop bags for the hard working male. “Did you think about me, Ms. Charlston? Did you think about my offer?” He licked his bottom lip.

“Did you think about what we could ~do~ together?”

The way he emphasized ‘do’ sent a ripple of frustration through my belly. Frustration born of annoyance and that dreaded awful concoction of lust.

The same lust that’d swarmed without warning the night of my nineteenth birthday. The same lust that’d almost made me lose myself to a man I’d only just met.

I’d learned my lesson that night.

I wouldn’t forget it now.

In this light, with the shop fluorescents blaring down and the patchwork of clothes around us, Mr. Everett looked nothing like that man in a black hoodie.

It’d been dark that night with so many things happening. My memory struggled to cling to truth rather than embellish with myth.

I remembered Nameless had black hair matted into dreadlock-curls, a beard, and clothes that’d long since needed a wash. His eyes were a rich brown like devil’s cake.

His lips masculine and handsome, adding animation to an otherwise guarded face.

If he’d been my savior, then Mr. Everett was my nemesis in his perfected splendor and arrogant attitude.

My wits came back, pushing away the heat in my stomach and the fizz in my heart from confronting this man once again.

I slipped into CEO mode, shutting everything else off. The force-field hissing between us severed as I forced a laugh as brittle and bright as glass.

“Wow, I knew you had an ego, but I didn’t know it’d taken up residence of your entire body.” I tapped my bottom lip with an ivory painted nail. “What question would you like me to answer first?”

He frowned. “What?”

I counted on my fingers. “One, no I didn’t think about you because you barely factored on my radar of noticeable things.

“Two, no I didn’t think about your offer because frankly, I forgot about you the moment I walked out of that restaurant.

“And three, I most certainly did not think about what we could ~do~ together because that would mean I noticed you, which I didn’t. Which, I believe, I just clarified.”

Sage wrapped her lithe silver-furred body around my ankles, creating static against my pantyhose. I bent down and scooped her up, careful to keep my eyes away from Mr. Everett’s crotch.

I wedged her like a teddy bear into my embrace rather than letting her resume her position like a parrot on a pirate’s shoulder.

I needed her close. I needed to use her as support so I could get out of there and away from this man without either slapping him or kissing him.

I couldn’t understand why my mind flashed with broken things—of violently attacking him, of giving into the unexplainable fury he invoked in me.

The way he watched me, with a languor simmering with bitterness, said if I gave into such stupidity and started something, he’d be the one to end it with me slammed against the wall and his hands up my skirt.

I didn’t like him.

I most certainly didn’t want him.

~At all.~

He chuckled softly. “Now who’s the liar, Ms. Charlston?” He sniffed the air, almost as if he could drag my perfume and truth into his lungs.

“You did think about me and you’re thinking about what we could ~do~ right now.” He lowered his chin, watching me from shadowed eyes. “Aren’t you?”

I clenched my teeth and didn’t reply. A haughty sniff would have to do because I didn’t trust myself not to curse him to the underworld and call for security.

I never suffered passion as sick as this. Never wanted to cause physical harm to someone I’d only just met.

He was all wrong.

He made my good turn bad.

~Leave.~

~Right now.~

With a glare, I spun around and stalked toward the walkway and freedom.

Only, there he was again, darting around me and planting himself in my trajectory. Wedging his hands in his gray slack pockets, he smirked. “Want to know my answers to those three questions?”

His voice rippled over my mind but his posture turned a simple question into a labyrinth of disbelief. Something about the way he moved—the way his hands sought the sanctuary of his pockets.

It was familiar.

He tore apart my wondering by leaning close, plucking the energy lines still humming between us. “Do you want to know?”

“No.”

“Too bad.” He had the gall to walk forward, forcing me to either accept his closeness or step back.

I didn’t want him touching me, so I backed up.

And then another step.

And another.

Back and back he forced me, all while our eyes never unlocked and no physical touch ensued. He did touch me, though. His gaze set fire to my skin with every second he stared.

I cursed the way my stomach clenched as my spine pressed against a cabinet holding t-shirts in every color for any occasion.

He smiled coldly. “Seems you aren’t opposed to doing what you’re told, after all.”

“What?” I squeezed Sage so hard, she sharpened her claws on my wrist.

“I wanted you against a flat hard surface and what do you know…you’re against one.”

My mouth went dry as his hand came up, looping around the silver pole of the cabinet stand.

He didn’t hem me in, but he did lean forward until most of his weight pivoted on his arm, his body hovering so damn close.

He made me prickly as a cactus, hot as a rainforest.

And wet.

I couldn’t remember the last time someone had puppeteered my body in such a way.

~Well, yes I can remember.~

But at the same time, I didn’t want to. Not while I was affected by a man so totally different from that chocolate kisser in my past.

It was ridiculous, but I felt like I cheated on him—trampling over my oath to help him, ripping up the debt I had to find and save him.

I hadn’t lived up to my promise, and every second I spent licking my lips, drunk on cheap chemistry, I cheapened what had happened between us.

The same rush of pleasure I wanted Nameless to take now begged for a new master.

~And I don’t even like this man.~

I didn’t like myself.

But it didn’t matter because my heart understood he was an egotistical asshole, and my body deemed him acceptable enough to scratch my lust-itch regardless.

His gaze dropped to my mouth. His voice was soft, coaxing. “One, I did think about you. A lot more than I should probably admit.

“I thought about forcing you to accept my offer, so at least I could get you behind closed doors. And I most certainly thought about what we could ~do~ together.”

His head erased the distance, his minty breath slipping past my lips and somehow taking up residence in my lungs, suffocating me.

“I thought about it in the shower, in bed, fuck, even in my office.” His head came down. His nose nuzzled the shell of my ear, disrupting the crystal earring so it tinkled softly.

His other hand came up, a single finger unfurling and tracing an electrical cord down my arm, slipping to my side and boldly pressing against my waist to my hipbone.

“You’re a stunning woman, Elle Charlston, and your father was right. Whatever man you end up with is a lucky fucking bastard, but I don’t think anyone stands a chance.”

He looked into my gaze with a cold, pitying look. “You have a prison gate around yourself that you’re too afraid to unlock and be free.”

I ~hated~ that he understood me when he had no right.

I ~despised~ the way he’d used the word free when I myself thought that phrase far too often.

And I ~loathed~ that his body heat stung mine with sensation and my nipples tightened to pain.

I had no resolution to push him away.

His fingertip suddenly left my hipbone and landed on Sage’s head. “It’s funny that you’re carrying your pussy around. Is that an invitation in some strange way?”

I spluttered. “Get your hand off my cat.”

He immediately held it up in surrender before once again tracing a fingertip from my shoulder to my wrist.

It took every ounce of training and discipline not to shudder or puddle to the floor. How long had it been since someone had petted me?

How long since I’d been touched other than a quick fatherly hug or pat well done?

~Never.~

That’s how long.

Because even Nameless had never stroked me. He’d grabbed me, kissed me, fondled me, but never stroked.

I squeezed my eyes, doing my best to find normalcy. Grasping the frigidness inside that still remained like a never-thawing glacier, I was glad my misplaced yearning couldn’t melt it.

I was better than this.

Better than him.

Sidestepping where his arm wasn’t latched to the cabinet, I ducked around a rack of hanging slacks and cloaked myself with government. “I think you overestimate yourself, Mr. Everett.”

“I don’t care if you thought about me and I don’t appreciate thinking about what you were doing to yourself in the shower.”

I grew bolder as he stood there silently, a malevolent glare in his gaze.

Sage had enough of my embrace and crawled back to her spot on my shoulders. With my arms free, I let them hang proud and regal with my back tight and smile plastic.

“If you thought you could overpower me, make me weak in the knees, and force me to go on a date with you, you failed yet again.

“Not only am I even more determined never to see you again, but you just gave away two very significant pieces of information that mean you’re not nearly as mysterious as you think you are.”

“Oh?” His eyebrow raised, the faintest sign of confusion lurking beneath the heated coal of his irises. “And what exactly is that?”

I grinned condescendingly. “Out of all the department stores in New York, you happen to choose Belle Elle. And out of the three chains we have in the city, you chose the head office. Why is that?

“Because you thought you might bump into me?” I shook my head. “Pity.

“I must admit you came at the right time and coincidence decided to shove us together but only to allow me to clarify that no matter what you say or do, my answer will forever remain no—”

“Seeing as you’re taking way too much pride in thinking you figured out my shopping habits, let’s move on.

“What’s the second thing I’ve revealed?” His patent leather shoes squeaked as he moved, once again hinting he wasn’t as comfortable as he implied.

His uncertainty fed my resolution. I held my chin high. “That you aren’t just a man in a suit looking for a quick one-night stand in a bar.”

“I’m not?” His face shut down. “How can you tell?”

“Because you have a son. Because you care enough to spend a fortune on something ridiculous because it’s based on self-worth, not the wardrobe.

“And because you and this unknown Larry person obviously have some resemblance of a heart.

“Otherwise, that kid wouldn’t want to have anything to do with you, yet he willingly curled into you to play Angry Birds.”

His posture resembled a furious predator. “You’re more observant than I gave you credit.”

“No, I’m normally this observant.” I clipped onto the walkway to freedom as if I was Dorothy on the yellow brick road to the wizard. “You just don’t know me.”

I strolled away before he could reply.