J. Geissinger - Shadow’s Edge

The sounds of people talking and footsteps echoing and the clink of glassware seemed amplified in the sudden hush that followed. The woman and the younger man sat unmoving in their chairs, surprised. They glanced at each other, then at Leander.

But he was gazing serenely at her, effortlessly handsome and controlled, his composure recovered. “I must admit, I’m...almost at a loss for words. I can’t recall the last time that happened. If ever.”

“Tragic,” she said, to the obvious enjoyment of Christian.

Leander’s expression soured. “Just to clarify,” he said with an exaggerated patience that suggested his composure wasn’t quite so solid, “you will leave your home—all your friends, your work, your life—for places unknown, with persons unknown...just for answers to some questions?”

“Yes,” she lied. She had no intention of going anywhere with him.

He shook his head slowly back and forth. “You’re making things much easier for me, but, honestly, I don’t think I understand your reasoning.”

Jenna sat back in her chair, relieved and terrified in equal measure that he didn’t deny her accusations, didn’t try to assert his innocence, didn’t call her crazy.

For better or worse, so far he was going along with her demands.

She brushed her hair away from her face again with a flick of a wrist and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “You’re a man. I’m a woman. I’m sure there’s a lot of things you can’t understand about me.”

The beautiful dark-haired woman began to giggle, a soft, girlish laugh she tried to hide behind the perfectly manicured hand that flew to her mouth. But it built to a loud, delighted guffaw, and she threw her head back and gave herself over to belly-clutching laughs while Leander and Jenna stared at each other in silence.

“I think I’m going to like her, Leander. I think I’m going to like her very much,” the woman said when she could speak again. She wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye and regarded Jenna with a new appreciation through her warm green gaze.

“Forgive me,” Leander said to Jenna, “for not introducing my companions.” He shot a steely glare at the woman first. “This is Morgan.”

Morgan smiled wide, her teeth a perfect sheen of white behind scarlet lips, and stuck her hand out, her expression open and direct. Before Jenna could even think of reacting, Leander’s hand shot out and snapped Morgan’s fingers together in his fist. Morgan froze and glanced over at his face but said nothing.

So he guessed how she had seen his thoughts. Clever. Very well, then. He still couldn’t know how much she had seen.

“And this is Christian,” Leander said, with a sharp nod toward the younger man seated next to him. Their similar features spoke to their relation, but Leander did not add more.

“I must tell you,” Christian drawled, gazing at her intently from beneath his lashes. A rakish smile played over his lips. “What a pleasure it is to finally meet you.” He broke into a huge grin. “The mysterious little stray gone so long from the nest is finally coming home—shouldn’t we have a party or something?”

“Christian,” Leander warned, his lips pressed to a thin line, his gaze turned to flint.

Morgan clapped her hands together in delight and sat up in her chair. “Yes! A party! When we all get back to Sommerley I’m going to organize a ball in honor of Jenna’s return and we’ll have dancing and music and—”

“Stop this, both of you,” Leander hissed through clenched teeth. His face had gone dark with a cold fury that silenced them both.

Jenna shifted in her chair, aware on a visceral level of the power play Christian had just orchestrated, of Morgan’s innocent accomplice to it, of Leander’s outrage with both of them.

“Are you related to my father?” she said to him abruptly, pressing her advantage.

“Yes,” Leander said, answering roughly, out of anger, before he could think. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and closed his eyes. “No, I mean. Not like you mean it anyway. It’s not as simple as that, it’s very—”

“Do you know what happened to him?”

He looked up at her and his eyebrows drew together, casting a shadow over his eyes. “Again, it’s not as simple as—”

“Do you know where he is? Is he alive ?” she said, her voice rising.

“Jenna, for God’s sake, this is not the place to be discussing—”

Jenna shot up from the chair, her face blazing in the sudden burst of anger that surged through her. The chair fell over and crashed against the marble floor with a sharp clatter that turned heads around them. She ignored every-thing else and focused her vision like a laser beam onto Leander’s unsmiling face.

“Why have you been following me? What do you want from me? Where is my father?” she demanded.

He knew. He knew everything. He knew and he remained silent as a statue, staring at her with that infuriating look of cold condemnation, as if all he cared about was the scene she was making, as if all that mattered was maintaining decorum.

The truth, you bastard , she thought, bile rising in her throat, that’s what matters .

Her hands began to tremble, as did her lower lip, her knees, and every nerve within her body. Something inside her snapped.

“ Who the hell are you people ?” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Everyone and everything in the bar fell into abrupt, complete silence save for Leander’s heart. This she heard as clear as a bell, thumping hard within his chest, strong and loud and filled with blood.

He stood up from his chair with an unhurried luxury of motion, every muscle flexed taut as he rose to face her. He regarded her with a gaze so icy it would have frozen molten lava.

“I am willing to answer all of your questions, Jenna, as you requested,” he said quietly, the anger obvious beneath the soft tone. “But perhaps it’s time we went somewhere less public to continue our discussion, as it seems to be getting rather...heated. I suggest my suite.”

Jenna bristled at this, still shaking. “You expect me to go with you, alone, to your suite, where you could do God knows what? If you think I am that gullible, you are sadly mistaken.”

His gaze thawed a few degrees and he allowed himself a cheerless smile. He lifted his hand and held it out toward her: an invitation. “If you don’t believe me...” He turned his palm up. “Satisfy yourself.”

Jenna stared at his outstretched hand and then back at his face, handsome and severe. She wouldn’t touch him again, she couldn’t . She wasn’t ready for the onslaught, for the terrifying glut of sensation that came with the pressure of his skin on hers. She would never be ready. It occurred to her she might never be able to touch anyone again, and she was so upside down she didn’t know if that bothered her or not.

So...she would just have to trust him.

“Fine. Your suite then,” Jenna said, curling her hands into fists again to control their shaking. “But we’re leaving the door open .”

Leander inclined his head without breaking her gaze. His voice low, he said, “Follow me.”

The if you dare was left unsaid, but she heard it clear as day anyway.

She didn’t go first. She followed the three of them as they moved silently through the lobby with its gargantuan flower displays and glistening mirrors, past the serene glassed atrium filled with tropical plants and a dark pond with restless orange koi, through the glass doors that opened outward with a burst of hot, rose-scented air. Those doors led to the back gardens and the private staircase that wound up to the presidential suite on the top floor.