by Donna Grant
As he and Ms. Engel rode the elevator down and walked through the lobby to his waiting car, he looked for Rae, but she was nowhere to be found. On the drive to the exhibition centre, he looked at the city with new eyes. Rae had done that to him.
He smiled as he thought of how she’d screamed in pleasure multiple times last night. If he had anything to do about it, she would be screaming again that night.
All too soon they arrived at the centre. He exited the car and nodded a greeting to the photographers, journalists hoping to get some information, and the whisky fans as he walked up the steps to the doors.
Inside, Ms. Engel directed him down a hallway and into the first meeting of the day. On his way inside the room, he spotted the woman from the day before. She had her back to him and a big, floppy black hat atop her head, but he recognized her by the way she held herself and the thumb ring.
It reminded him of Rae.
Apparently he was so into the mortal that everything reminded him of her. It should bother him, but oddly, it didn’t. He smiled then and entered the room.
Each time he finished with a meeting, he walked out to find Ms. Engel. He supposed she was going to wait to do any digging on Rae, and that pleased him. Perhaps Ms. Engel would see there was no cause for concern.
She didn’t bring it up as the hours passed and they went from one event to another. He had a tasting he had to attend where Dreagan showcased their newest batches, as well as their tried and true versions.
He then went to an exhibit where each of the distilleries and their best Scotch was put on display for attendees to sample. As was his duty, Asher made sure to taste those that were Dreagan’s closest competitors.
Along with the display, attendees were asked to rank the whisky for a readers’ favorite contest. That wasn’t the only contest. The professional whisky judges would also be casting votes for who was the best.
Dreagan had won every year for decades. Everyone wanted to know their secret. Asher couldn’t exactly tell them the Dragon Kings had been distilling whisky for thousands of years. Not even the history of the first batch of whisky listed Dreagan.
Con had made sure of that. If it had, there would’ve been too much attention placed on Dreagan. It was easier and more beneficial to let a mortal have that glory.
While he nodded and spoke to the World Whisky Consortium attendees as they came to the Dreagan booth with the double dragon logo on everything, his mind kept drifting to Rae.
Ms. Engel brought up a good point. He didn’t know her last name, and with all the shite the Kings had been through, he should know better than to so blindly trust. Ulrik wasn’t just working with the Dark Fae, he also brought in humans. Though Asher didn’t believe Rae would have a connection to Ulrik. If she did, Rae would be at the WWC to gain more time with him.
But what did she do during the day? She said she was there on business, but neither of the two times they were together had they discussed her. Always her questions were about him.
She asked about Dreagan, but even now he thought it was because she was curious about it. If she really wanted information, she could’ve asked more pointed questions. Which, he reminded himself, she hadn’t.
So while he didn’t think Rae was a threat, he needed to know more about her. Because he didn’t like the thread of doubt his lack of knowledge about her caused. Ms. Engel seemed capable enough, but she was busy with his affairs currently.
That left the one true mastermind who could find out all there was to know about Rae––Ryder. He ran all the computers at Dreagan, designing cameras so tiny you never knew they were even there. He monitored Dreagan from his computer room on the third floor of the manor.
And now Ryder wasn’t alone. He had Kinsey as his mate, who happened to be another computer expert. Between the two of them, there wasn’t anything that couldn’t get done.
Asher opened the telepathic link all Dragon Kings had and said Ryder’s name in his mind.
A few seconds later Ryder replied, “Aye.”
“I need a favor.”
“I’m here to do thy bidding,” Ryder teased.
He watched Dreagan employees hand out taste after taste in their booth. “There is a guest at my hotel I need information on.”
“I am the King of Information. Name?”
“I only know her first name. Rae.”
There was a pause. “Her?”
“Doona read anything into this.”
“Look around Dreagan, Ash. It’s a wee bit hard no’ too.”
“I’m no’ returning from Paris with a mate. I had a nice night with the lass, but I want to be sure she isna connected to Ulrik.”
“Good point. The fact you want to know more says she means something. Just noting that fact.”
Asher wasn’t going to discuss this with Ryder, especially when he wasn’t sure of anything himself. He liked Rae. A lot. And he wanted to spend more time with her. Right now, that’s all it was.
“Ryder,” he warned.
“Fine. All you have is Rae. R-A-E?”
“Aye.”
“There’s no one listed at the hotel with that name.”
Asher frowned before he recalled Rae saying it was a nickname. “It’s short for something, I believe. She mentioned it being a nickname.”
“Just for future use, get the real name.”
“Remind me to kick your arse when I get back.”
“Are we no’ having a good time?” Ryder teased. “You should see all the photos of you going up on the Internet. You’re being labeled a ‘Hot Bachelor.’”
He drew in a breath for patience. “I doona know how Con does it. Everyone wants a piece of me.”
“You’re doing a great job.”
He grunted in response.
“Ash, there are two guests who could be your Rae. One is a Raelene Bradford. The other is Rachel Marek. I’m looking at each as we speak.”
He waited for Ryder to find something. Either could be Rae. That is if Rae was the start of her name. It could be a deviation from the end of her name. Or it could have nothing to do with her name at all.
“Both women are in their thirties and checked in alone,” Ryder said. “Want me to keep digging?”
“Aye. I have to go, but see if either is connected to Ulrik or one of the aliases he uses.”
“Consider it done.”
Asher severed the link and turned to the outstretched hand of one of Dreagan’s favorite distributors. As they spoke, he caught sight of a hand taking a sample of Dreagan whisky and he spotted a thumb ring.
His thoughts immediately went to Rae.
Chapter Nine
Rachel hated whisky. Or she used to. However, it seemed she was rapidly developing a taste for Dreagan.
That could be because she’d also acquired a taste for Asher.
She inwardly groaned. What the hell was wrong with her? Instead of working to find hidden meanings in his words or discovering a lie in them, all she did was listen to that amazing voice and recall how he’d made love to her.
It was an entire wasted day. By the time she walked from the exhibit centre, she felt emotionally drained. Asher was getting into the sleek Jaguar that would take him to his dinner.
She waved down a taxi and chanced another look in his direction. He never got brusque with anyone, no matter how many times they asked him for a picture. His photo was splashed worldwide in magazines, newspapers, and other news media. Then there were the fans.
Fans of Dreagan. Fans of Asher. They swarmed like gnats––men and women alike––getting his picture like he was Luke Evans or Jason Statham.
Those fans put up his pictures on Twitter, Facebook, blogs, Tumblr, and Pinterest as if the world were ending tomorrow. The women practically swooned when he bestowed a smile upon them, and they giggled like schoolgirls when he spoke with that deep Scots brogue. Though, he didn’t flirt with a single one of the women.
Much to her delight.
The men stood straighter when Asher was around, watching
him as if they could somehow pick up on what made him such a…man.
What she wanted to tell them was that the thing that made him so special was singular to him alone. Anyone could put on a handmade suit and be driven around in expensive cars. But the swoon-worthy face, the heart-stopping grin, and those breathtaking eyes were his alone. Just like his compassion and patience.
And she was doing it again. Sam’s warning of how the Kings seduced echoed in her mind. Asher and the rest of the Dragon Kings weren’t good beings. They were liars and monsters whose secret needed to be told so they couldn’t hide anymore.
Except, when she saw Asher amid the humans, she didn’t see a beast. She saw a man who was taking time to give those who wanted a picture with him or answer questions. He could walk away like many of the other representatives did. But not Asher. He stayed until the last of the fans were finished with him.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She looked around for whoever was watching her. Her gaze locked on Ms. Engel, who stood on the second floor of the building looking down at her.
Someone slammed into Rachel, making her lose her balance. When she looked back up at the window, Ms. Engel was gone. But that feeling of being observed lingered. No matter where she looked, she couldn’t find who was watching her. But it left her feeling…exposed.
She hurried to the taxi and got inside just as Asher finished taking the last picture. “Follow that Jaguar,” she told the driver.
When they arrived at the swanky restaurant, she directed the taxi to drive ahead a little ways before he pulled over. Then she scooted to the edge of her seat and held up a wad of euros.
He went to reach for it, but she jerked it back. “This is for you if you wait here for ten minutes.”
The Frenchman smiled. “Oui, mademoiselle.”
Rachel tucked the money in the pocket of her purse, slung across her body, and exited the taxi. She walked with purpose down the busy sidewalk even as she watched Asher’s large frame unfold from the car and button his suit jacket.
He wasn’t wearing a coat despite the frigid temperatures. Only then did she recall he hadn’t worn one the previous night either. Apparently, Dragon Kings weren’t affected by the cold.
“Lucky them,” she murmured and stuck her hands in her coat pockets.
She then pulled off her floppy hat and folded it to tuck in her large purse before she replaced it with a cream and gold beanie to cover her ears against the cold.
Her steps slowed when she neared the restaurant. She peeked inside the windows and saw Asher being escorted to the back of the restaurant and behind closed doors. The doors opened long enough for her to see several of the other whisky distillers at the table. More business. She turned and retraced her steps to the taxi.
It was time for her to return to the hotel and get ready for the night. As well as order some room service since she was starving. It also appeared as if a Dragon King didn’t need to eat since it was the second day that he’d gone without lunch and didn’t seem affected at all.
Not so her. Her stomach growled and a headache was setting in. She paid the taxi the promised money when he let her off in front of the hotel. As soon as she was in her room, she picked up the phone to call room service.
As she waited for the line to connect, she looked around her suite. Someone had been in there. Somebody besides the maid. Nothing was out of place, but she could still tell that someone had walked through her room and touched her things.
She placed her order while she walked around the suite. She ended in her bedroom and disconnected the call. The food would arrive in thirty minutes. Plenty of time to get a shower and dry her hair.
She set down the phone by her laptop and opened the computer. It was still turned off. And it was password protected. Even if someone had been inside, they wouldn’t have gotten anything off her computer.
Which was a good thing since all her searches revolved around Dreagan and Asher. She looked around the suite again. Who would’ve been in here? The only person that came to mind was Sam MacDonald. Yet Sam was away doing his own information gathering at Dreagan. He never told her who his target was, but his determination to reveal the Dragon Kings to the world exceeded her own.
It was why she’d decided to work with him. Besides all the information he brought her, Sam would stop at nothing to release the truth. Yet it was her name attached to the article that would give value to the facts.
Rachel tapped her finger on the laptop before she went back to check that the door was bolted. She tested the sliding glass door that went out onto the balcony to ensure it was locked. She didn’t want another surprise visit from Sam since she still hadn’t figured out how he got into her bolted hotel room the last time.
Satisfied that everything was locked up tight, she decided to get in the shower. She stood beneath the hot water longer than she intended, but it felt so good. Her body was sore from her night with Asher, but it made her smile. Never had she been so thoroughly loved.
By the time she got out, there was a knock at the door. She glanced at the clock and quickly pulled on her robe as she made her way to the door. She looked through the peephole to see a hotel employee holding a tray of food. Within minutes the food was left and she was once more alone––with the door bolted.
She curled up in the chair and began to devour the steak and butternut squash. Then she moved on to dessert of chocolate mousse cake that went great with her red wine. With her belly full, she rose and dried her hair as she contemplated the night’s attire. Her gaze landed on a dress she’d brought on the off chance she might need it.
She didn’t need it, but she wanted to wear it.
For Asher.
* * * *
Asher strode into the penthouse suite and came to a sudden stop when he found Ms. Engel standing in the middle of the living room with pinched lips and her body stiff with rage. He released the door, letting it close behind him. He attempted to see her eyes, but those damn glasses continued to prevent it.
He’d hoped Ms. Engel’s initial reaction about Rae had been wrong. He released a sigh. “How long have you been waiting?”
“A few hours,” came her cool reply.
He put his hands in his pants pockets and glanced down at the file she clasped before her. “Tell me you have no’ been standing the entire time.”
“No, sir.”
“What has soured you, Ms. Engel?” He glanced at the file again. Ryder had tried to talk to him twice, but Asher hadn’t been able to answer him during the dinner.
On the way to the hotel, he’d called to Ryder but hadn’t been able to reach him. That and the way Ms. Engel looked left him feeling uncertain about what was discovered.
“My advice, sir, is to never see Rae again.”
Asher lifted his brows. It must be that bad. At least by Ms. Engel’s standards. And that woman had very high standards.
“Or should I say Rachel,” Ms. Engel said tightly.
So that was her real name. What was it Ryder said? Rachel Marek? Aye. That was the name. “She told me Rae was a nickname.”
“Did she also tell you what she does?” Ms. Engel asked, her chin lifting in anger.
He shook his head as disappointment rapidly filled him.
“She’s a journalist.”
The statement hung in the air. He didn’t want to believe it, but Ms. Engel had no reason to lie. Con trusted her explicitly, which meant Blossom had been thoroughly vetted by Ryder.
Her expression softened, as if she just realized how harsh her words had been. “I know you liked her.”
“She’s no’ asked for anything.”
“She’s been at the WWC.”
Then Asher knew. It broadsided him like a slap from a dragon’s tail. The woman with the thumb ring he kept seeing was Rae, or Rachel. No wonder he kept thinking he saw Rae everywhere. Because he had.
She lied to him, and he wanted to know why. A woman like Rae—Rachel—would never admit to anything if c
onfronted. He would have to play it carefully.
“This stays between us, for now,” he told Ms. Engel. “You’ve done good work. Thank you.”
“That’s it?” she asked in disbelief.
He gave her a smile because she was acting like a mother hen. And somehow that endeared her to him even more. “No’ in the least. I’m going to get to the bottom of things with Rae.”
“Rachel,” Ms. Engel corrected.
“She’ll remain Rae for the moment until she admits everything. Doona fear, now that I know the truth, I’ll be guarding each word that falls from my lips.”
“You might want to think of guarding your body as well.”
He laughed when Ms. Engel looked him up and down with a brow raised knowingly. “I’ll be sure to.”
“This is for you,” she said and set down the file on the coffee table. “My room is here as well. If you need me, you know how to reach me.”
He had been given Ms. Engel’s mobile number, but she was always there so he hadn’t had a reason to contact her. “Thank you.”
She walked to the door and paused after she opened it. She turned her dark head to look at him. “I am sorry, sir.”
“I am, too, lass.”
A sigh escaped him when he was alone. He looked at the file, but he didn’t reach for it. Perhaps it was better if he didn’t know the particulars.
It didn’t sit well that Rae deceived him. He thought they’d had a connection, one that went beyond the physical and mental to become soulful. He didn’t need to wonder how she came to be in Paris the same time as him. It all would point back to Ulrik one way or another. It always did.
Unless…this had nothing to do with Ulrik and everything with her wanting to do a story on Dreagan. It was that small thread of hope that he clung to, even though he knew it might blow up in his face.
He walked to the sideboard and opened the bottle of Dreagan. He filled the glass more than half full and took it out on to the balcony. It was chilly with a chance of snow overnight. He didn’t feel the biting wind or see the city. His gaze was pointed inward as he went over everything he and Rae had spoken about.