1
I shift under the man’s piercing golden stare, pulling at the edge of my pencil skirt, desperately trying to make it an inch longer.
His silky black hair falls just so at his shoulders as his brow quirks.
“You don’t need to be nervous. I won’t bite,” He assures me, his sultry voice washing over me, almost convincing me to let down my guard.
“That’s not what I heard,” I lick my lips, straightening my back.
His lip turns up in a small smirk, as he leans back in his chair. “Is that so?”
Fuck. I feel like I’m losing. Losing composure. Losing focus.
I break his gaze, focusing instead on the bookshelf that lines the walls. I guess it’s a study, then? I wasn’t paying attention when I was walking in—
“Is that what your grandma told you?”
My eyes snap to his, the room taking in a chilling air. That’s right. I can’t get sidetracked.
“Actually, yes. She told me explicitly to stay away from your…company.”
Sinclair’s golden eyes shutter as he smiles, this time soft and almost affectionate. The room is warm again, as if I’d imagined the change—maybe I had. He’s got a large frame, he almost seems to take the room up with his presence.
“Fair enough. But you’re here anyway. So what can I do for you?”
I swallow roughly, and sit up straight, clutching the handle of my bag. “Help me find her. I know she has ties to this company—I know she has land here too.”
I pull out my evidence, trying to control my trembling fingers. I’ve been working on this for a long time. This is my last shot—my Hail Mary.
Sinclair’s eyes sweep over my mess of files—photographs, deeds, journal entries—a litany of information I’ve compiled hoping to find an answer.
Some solace.
“Quite the evidence trail.” Sinclair murmurs thoughtfully, opening a file and examining it. “But I have to ask—and forgive me if it’s rude; have you considered that she doesn’t want to be found?”
I swallow roughly, and edge a photograph closer to him. “I had considered that, yes. But there are…extenuating circumstances. My grandma and I are all we have in this world.” I glance down at the photograph of her, her bright grin faded.
“She wouldn’t leave me without a word. I need to find out what happened to her.”
Sinclair heaves a heavy sigh, and takes off his wiry frames, setting them next to the goldplated nameplate with his name etched.
Sinclair Augustine.
What a name.
“Miss Ira, I admire your courage and loyalty really,” he drawls, leaning back into his leather chair. “But I can’t figure out why you’re here. I mean…I’m just a landowner. This is a case for the police. A private investigator, perhaps.”
I glance around the room, looking for cameras. Then I lean in and push my files closer.
“That would be the case, sure, if it weren’t for your…other company.”
He smirks and raises his brow. “Why, I have no idea what you’re talking about.“
I scoff. “Please don’t insult my intelligence. It’s an open secret here.”
Sinclair looks around, making a show of cluelessness. “I’m unsure what you’re implying, Miss Ira. You can look me up, I’m only registered as the owner of this here Real Estate Firm—The Augustine Company.”
I heave a sigh, and lick my lips. How long is he gonna play dumb? I’m starting to get a little ticked off.
“And the Augustine Mafia? Know anything about that?”
He offers me a bright smile. “Oh now that’s just an unfortunate coincidence. No relation.”
“Unbelievable.”
“But say I did happen to know someone who knew someone—strictly hypothetically of course—“
I roll my eyes. “Of course.”
He chuckles. “I still can’t see why I’m involved. Granny goes missing—you’re concerned. You’re right to be, these are scary times.”
I nod facetiously along. He grins, his golden eyes shimmering.
“But why should I—a mere businessman, use my resources and time to assist in what is clearly a private matter?”
“Because if you help me find her, I’ll sell you the deed you want. Her property. I’ll have her give it to you.”
His smile stretches wide. “Well now that’s business. Why didn’t you start with that?” He stands upright abruptly, dwarfing me as I struggle to stand as quickly.
“Of course I’ll help you, I’ll put you up at my estate, we’ll start looking for her first thing tomorrow.”
He shakes my hand, as I attempt to get my bearings, jolting my frame as he presses the intercoms with his other hand.
“Cheryl, be a doll and have the guest room set up. And call a car for Miss Ira. She’ll be staying with me. She’s a very special guest—”
“Wait—uh—what?”
The door opens and Cheryl, the ample receptionist greets me with a wide white grin and a bright blue power suit.
“Right this way,”
“Sinclair,” I ask over my shoulder, “What is this?”
A grin pulls at the corner of his full lips, his eyes seeming to sparkle.
“This is me saying yes, darling.”
I shiver, though I’m unsure why, shifting in my place.
