Page 10 of Pocus
“Thanks, Rachel.” I’m about to say something else, but she just nods curtly and turns around to disappear behind the door from which she appeared.
Just as I’m lowering myself onto one of the chairs, the door is opened again, but this time it isn’t Rachel that walks through it but another woman in flats, a huge relief from the noisy heels I’ve seen around here all morning.
“Mr. Anderson will see you now,” she says in a mild voice with no impersonal courtesy.
I raise my eyes to hers, and I freeze.Those eyes…I’d recognize those enchanting greenish brown depths with sparkling specks of gold anywhere. She looks different, dressed in a boring striped shirt tucked into a knee-length black skirt and plain black flats that emphasize her petite height.
Her face is void of any makeup, revealing the beautiful freckles dusting across her pert nose. Her hair is a beautiful shade of blonde that immediately makes me think of sunshine, honey, and light. Her lips are a little too wide for her small face but oddly compelling. Her face is an odd ensemble of unique features that perfectly complement each other. She’s not the most gorgeous woman in the room, but she’d definitely turn a few heads – mine inclusive.
She looks nothing like the vixen from the Den, and I would never have guessed, except I’m certain that there can never be any two people with those exact magical hazel eyes…eyes that have haunted my dreams for the past few nights. My head instantly fills up with a bunch of confusing questions that I have no way of answering.
How’s she here…?
Why…?
“Mr. Pocus?” she searches my face with a slightly puzzled frown.
I vaguely notice the slight change in the pace of my heartbeat when she says my name. It must be because I’m still so surprised to see her here.
She has the most soothing voice I’ve ever heard.
“Excuse me, sir. You can go on in,” she says, gesturing at the door behind her.
“Thanks,” I say with a curt nod. She nods back and turns to walk toward the door from which I came. I throw one last look at her before I turn to push open the door to Anderson’s office.
Anderson Grey’s office has the same pretentious display of wealth as the reception. My eyes fall on the tall man by the window side. He has his back to me, but I can tell he’s very much aware of my presence. He takes his time to turn around, smiling at me with a dramatic flair.
“Ah, my friend, Hocus…,” his brows deepened in a mock frown. “Pocus, is it? Welcome. I knew you’d come to find me sooner or later.”
I understand his jibe but decide to ignore it. Assholes like him don’t know shit about my gift or how I came about the name Pocus but make fun of it anyway…
I openly assess the man. Some would say he’s conventionally handsome with his sharp features and impressive build, but I recognize just how ugly the monster beneath his smooth tanned skin is. He is an unremorseful bastard who does dark, ruthless things; that much is clear. His fathomless black eyes bore unflinchingly into mine. Either he’s had years of practice hiding his emotions, or he’s an unfeeling bastard, but I can’t seem to read any emotions from him. It’s funny how there seem to be no other doors in this office other than the one I came in through. I distinctly remember Rachel walking in here through that same door, but she’s nowhere to be found now. I slowly look around the office once again, trying to determine the location of any hidden doors.
“Please, sit,” Anderson says, pointing at the empty chair in front of his desk while he lowers himself into his executive chair.
I fold my arms over my chest and glare at him, pointedly refusing his invitation to sit. “What the fuck do you want from me?”
“You’re an impatient one, eh?” Anderson’s thin lips pull up in what looks like a smile, except there’s no hint of humor in his steely black eyes. “One to hit the nail right on the head. You don’t want to know why?”
My brows shoot up in dry amusement. “Does it make any difference?” I ask with a loud scoff.
“Of course it does,” Anderson replies with a small shrug of his broad shoulders. “It justifies all that I’ve done to you, doesn’t it?”
If he meant to rile me up with that, he succeeded. I can feel an angry storm brewing in the pit of my stomach.
I swore to be diplomatic in dealing with Anderson Grey, even if it killed me, but I suddenly want to put a bullet in his skull. Fuck being civil. I want to punch that little all-knowing smirk off his annoying face.
I ignore the boiling anger in my blood and incline my head so I can look him squarely in the eyes. “Nothing justifies threatening to make a whole community homeless and putting an innocent man in jail,” I say calmly. “But suit yourself. Explain away.”
“Oh, your man is far from innocent, Mr. Pocus,” Anderson says in a matter-of-fact tone. “And if I wanted to, I could set him up on a jail term so long he’d never see the light of day again. He’s killed many, and so have you.”
I slap palms on his desk and glare into his deep dark eyes with enough venom to make an average man quake in his boots – but Anderson Grey is no ordinary man. He holds my stare with an unflinching tenacity.
“What the fuck do you want, fucker?” I ask in an angry growl.
“Sit,” Anderson commands in a low tone that one would use on an errant dog. His face suddenly brightens, and he leans back casually in his chair. “Maybe then, we can have a proper conversation where we can sort out our differences.”
I take a deep calming breath and lower myself onto the chair with a dissatisfied grunt. I blame the good senses that made me leave my gun back at the clubhouse. Right now, the bastard could be staring blankly at the flaming barrel of my gun, halfway on his way to hell.