Conviction (NYC Doms Book 3) by Jane Henry

Author:Jane Henry [Henry, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-21T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Zoe

He looked at me strangely when I came out with my hair all done. I’ll admit Beatrice did an amazing job. She knows what she’s doing. Not only did she cut my hair in a way that makes me look younger, my eyes look brighter, and my cheekbones higher, thereby changing nearly my entire appearance, but she did some magic with makeup. I felt shy going out to Brax and Zack, but I’m ready to move things along, and it had to be done. And then I looked at him… I’m not really sure what happened out there, but I felt different for a moment. Softer. Malleable.

I needed him to approve. I hate that I did, but I can’t deny it. I needed him to find me pretty, to like the new haircut, and let me the fuck out of this room.

When his eyes met mine, something stirred deep within me, as if I’ve known him so much longer than a few days, and I knew in my gut that I trust him. Let him take care of you, my inner voice coaxes.

I’m not the kind of girl who lets anyone do anything for me. I survived my childhood, only to fight for what was mine as an adult. Nothing, absolutely nothing was handed to me, and I don’t expect handouts now. Everything I have I fought for and won, and that includes my pride. But when he looks at me like that, a little part of me melts. I don’t like that it does. I need to remain in control.

I toss clothes in a bag easily, as I have so little here, and meet him at the door. I’m so fucking ready to move this along. He takes the bag from my hand and slings it over his shoulder.

“I can hold that,” I say, but he doesn’t even bother responding, just leads the way back to Tobias’s office and the exit.

“Brax,” I repeat. “Give me the damn bag.” The softness I felt while looking at him after I got my hair done is gone now. “I can handle it.”

“No,” he says, not looking at me, while we walk past the bar and through the entrance to the lobby. When we get to the main area, there’s a man sitting on a bench and a woman sitting on his lap. She’s got whiskers drawn on her face and little kitty ears, and she’s purring against him, rubbing her cheek against his. You see all sorts of things in NYC that you don’t elsewhere. Add Verge to the picture, and I’m beginning to see there really isn’t a hell of a lot you won’t see here. I want to see more at Verge, and I hope now that I’ve got this disguise going that I can move around a little more freely.

Curiosity fills me as he opens the door and we head to the street. “I parked in the parking garage down the road today,” he says. “We need a little more anonymity, which is why you’re not carrying this bag.

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