Chapter 8

Olistaire

She was going to say yes.

I can't get the thought out of my mind as I try to work today, no matter how many times I attempt to keep my brain on real estate. When I'd asked if I could kiss her again, uttering those two words, "May I?", I'd seen the look in her eyes, the way her lips had parted in invitation, and I knew. She was going to say yes.

She wants to kiss me.

If I didn't already despise that sodden bathmat of a male, I would definitely do so now after he'd interrupted our moment. She would have let me kiss her properly—whether it was originally a move to get back at Brad or not, she wanted it. And now she's revoked the privileged entirely.

The problem is now that I've gotten a taste of her, I don't think there's anything I won't do to kiss her again. The memory of her soft lips, the way her breath had hitched when I'd kissed her back… I need more. Blood rushes through my veins even now, just thinking about it. I need to taste her. I need to feel her body respond to mine. I need very much to make her come at least a thousand times before I can ever feel satisfied again.

I'm just about to give up on the PDF before me entirely and let myself sink into fantasies of what Grace would look like with her bright brown hair splayed across my bed sheets, when a gentle knock disturbs my reverie.

I look up to see one of my staff at the thick glass partition that separates my office from our coworking space. I wave her in, and she pushes my glass door ajar.

"Sir," the naga says shyly as she slithers partially in, her human top half holding a bundle of folders while her red, snake half loops out the door. "I was wondering if you wanted to review a few potential listings?"

"Commercial?" I ask, and she nods.

"And in neighboring human towns, like you asked, sir."

"Good girl." I wave her in, grabbing the folders and giving them a brief flip through, barely even noticing the way her brown skin flushes at the cheeks where her ruby red scales disappear. This one blushes easily, and I normally get great enjoyment from seeing her react to the mildest comments I make. But I find myself uninterested today, instead immediately thinking about Grace again the second Isha stops talking and glides away.

I feel her staring at me as she pauses at the door, and I look back up, realizing I missed her speaking.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?"

"I said, I think I just saw Ismelda arrive, do you want me to bring her in here for you?"

I smile. "Sure, thank you."

If I let the matronly witch wander through my office on her own, she'll distract my staff for half an hour with chatter before she even makes it in here. She's just as much of a gossip as her niece, Nib, although she tends to be a little less obvious about it. Still, I wasn't expecting Ismelda today, so I wonder what this is about.

I drop the folders on my thick glass table and shut my computer screen down as Ismelda walks in, her plump face smiling as she mutters thanks to my realtor and shuts the door.

"Good morning." I stand and gesture her towards the plush couches by the window of my corner office. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Is seeing my face not enough for you, dearie?" She puffs around for a moment, her long skirt billowing as she fluffs a pillow and sits, and I sink down opposite her.

"Social call, then, is it?" I wave at Isha through the glass, indicating to bring us two coffees from our machine. "My favorite type of business."

Ismelda chuckles. "Well, not entirely. I need receipts for the catering I know you've been organizing for the half opening night at Hearthstone Lodge. I can get us at the council to foot the whole bill."

I raise my brows. "I thought we were splitting the costs of the entire event?"

"I'm working on that." She winks. "I think if I drip feed the receipts to accounting, I can get us to pay for most all of it, since it's a big event that'll draw human and fae alike to our closed little town. You know how excited we are to promote more human tourism."

"How excited you

are, you mean," I interject. "This plan to attract non-fae was all your idea."

"Yes, but they

don't know that. The rest of the council think they came up with it all on their own."

Isha knocks politely on my door again with her tail, before opening it and gliding in with two hot coffees, placing them on the glass coffee table before us.

"Thank you," I say absently as I reach for mine. "Alright, I'll have one of my people dredge up the invoice and send it your way."

"Wonderful." Ismelda smiles, grabs her coffee, and then leans conspiratorially forward as Isha shuts the door behind her. "Speaking of which, have you organized a date for the event yet?"

I snort and send her a deadpanned look. "I love you dearly, Ismelda, you know I do. But you don't fool me one bit." She dons an innocent expression that absolutely does not hide the mischief I know her meddling can create. "Out with it. What are you planning?"

She grins and sags back against the couch. "Oh, alright. I think you should take Grace. Publicly. You know, have her on your arm all night, take pictures, stick by her side for the event."

I lift my coffee to my lips. "Interesting."

"Rhokar will be attending with Ella as his partner, of course," she continues. "So that's one fae-human couple in the headlines. But if we had two of the lodge owners with lovely human ladies on their arms…"

Her voice trails off, and I finish for her. "Then it will promote the human-inclusive agenda you've convinced so many of us in Whispering Pines is a good idea for tourism, and help make more humans feel comfortable with visiting our town."

"Precisely!"

"Mm-hmm." I take a long sip and raise an eyebrow. "These are the reasons you're telling me, and therefore, I don't believe you. Out with it."

I watch her as she lifts her cup to her lips, hiding her smile behind it as her bright gray eyes twinkle playfully. "What other motives could I possibly have?"

"Well, I don't know, do I?"

Although I have to admit, the idea certainly has merit. Drinks will be flowing, live music will be playing, and I could twirl her across the garden dance floor in a pretty dress as the sun sets…

"Oh, what are you complaining about, anyway?" Ismelda puffs. "As if it's some sort of hardship for you to take a beautiful woman to a fancy event."

"It's no hardship at all." I wonder if Grace would wear red? Although something in gold would look equally stunning on her.

"Then it's settled!" She leans forward to put her coffee back on the table. "Make sure you ask her nicely, maybe some flowers would go down well."

I chuckle, thinking about the bundle of roses I'd spied strewn haphazardly over the kitchen table last night, and wonder if Grace's blunt, no-nonsense personality would really find much worth in such a floral approach. "You know I don't need to woo her to get her to agree, right?"

Ismelda's eyes immediately light with excitement, and she clasps her weathered hands before her. "Oh, are things going well between you two? Finally! I'm so glad to hear it!"

"She'll jump at the opportunity to prove to her ex that she's moved on from him." I frown slightly, and then clink my own cup on the table with a snort of affront. "And what do you mean, finally?

Are you questioning my abilities with the fairer sex? I think I've proven myself quite capable on that front."

Ismelda's eyes crease with amusement as she stands. "I think you most certainly have not. I've never seen you with the same lady for longer than three or four months."

Getting to my feet, I wave my hand at her comment. "Those are two entirely separate issues."

"Just like that father of yours," she tsks.

"Ismelda," I say warningly, even as I open my door for her and follow her out.

Her face softens, and she lays a hand on my forearm as we walk to the elevator. "He wasn't always like that. Your father once knew how to love, I remember it even if you don't. I just fear you're taking inspiration from the wrong half of his life."

"Well," I mutter as the elevator doors slide open, "you sure know how to bring the mood down."

She pats at the back of my hand and draws me into the elevator with her. "Olistaire, dearie, I worry about you. I've known you since you were a little calf, I just want to see you happy."

"I am perfectly content with my life."

"Why don't you give it a real shot with Grace?" she asks, instead of responding to that statement. "What harm could it possibly do?"

I turn to look at the matronly witch, taking in the genuine worry in her expression despite her small smile. "Ismelda, the gods know you've made comments here and there throughout the years, but since when do you try to make me date the females I'm seeing? You're starting to sound like Rho these days."

"Rhokar is happily mated, and he just wants his brother in spirit to experience the same joys."

"And you?" We finish descending past the other businesses in this building, and the elevator comes to a stop. "Why the sudden interest now? Why this female?"

She grabs my hand once more in hers, turning it palm-up in her grasp. The elevator doors open as she runs a finger over the scratch Grace left in the short fur at my wrist, and she gives it a considering look before glancing back at me with a smile.

"You have a lot more love in your heart to give than you think," is all she says in reply. "I don't want to see life pass you by before you discover it, that's all."

She leaves, and as the elevator begins its ascent back to the top floor, I let out a long sigh.

Well, that's depressing.