The Faithfuls: An emotional page-turner with a heart-stopping twist (The Sisterhood Series) by Cecilia Lyra

Author:Cecilia Lyra [Lyra, Cecilia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781838888756
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2020-09-20T18:30:00+00:00

Twenty minutes later, Malaika exits the train at Grand Central and struts to the Main Concourse, searching for the four-faced clock. She finds it on top of the information booth—why hadn’t Andy just told her to look for that? She is studying the constellation ceiling when a man approaches her.

“Are you Verena?” he asks.

Malaika nods, the sound of her mom’s name filling her with homesickness.

The man clears his throat and sticks out his hand. “I’m Simon.”

The sight of the man’s outstretched hand brings her a modicum of relief. Surely, if he were some sort of pervert, he’d try to kiss her?

Malaika shakes his hand, forcing herself to smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’re, um, even more beautiful in person.” He seems almost as nervous as she is, which is both confusing and comforting. Simon is a short and pale man, with light green eyes, sandy blonde hair, stubby nose, and unfortunately big ears. He isn’t attractive by any stretch of the imagination, but he has the whitest, straightest teeth Malaika has ever seen and he is impeccably dressed in a pair of slim-fitting, dark corduroy pants, a green dress shirt, and a well-cut blazer. A Burberry coat is draped on his forearm.

Malaika smiles. “Thank you.”

“Should we go?” He gestures with his thumb towards the arched doors.

The Uber is waiting for them on 42nd Street. Malaika studies the driver’s stiff posture, certain that he can see through her. Andy had suggested she think of this as a date, but that would only make it worse. Her limited dating experience has left her geared for survival, not romance.

“You speak French, right?” Simon asks, tapping his hand on his knee.

“French and German,” Malaika replies.

“Sweet. There will be a guy at this party, a real douche, his name is Marcus Dawson. When I introduce you to him, say something in French. He’ll be impressed.”

“He is French?”

“Marcus? Nah, he’s from Chicago.”

Malaika is about to ask why it would make sense for her to start speaking in a foreign language to a Midwestern American of all people when Simon’s phone rings. He barks a hello and seconds later is yelling at whoever is on the other end of the line. Something about numbers on a spreadsheet not making any sense. She is reminded of the businessmen she had met working at the front desk of the Euler during the summer. They all seemed uneasy at first, almost shy—she is used to having this effect on the opposite sex—but as soon as they answered a work call, they’d morph into confident, demanding men. The kind of men who made passes at her. It makes her wonder if Simon will expect more from her later. She makes a mental note to bring pepper spray with her next time and then she panics because she is already thinking of a next time.

“Sorry about that,” Simon says, putting his phone away.

“No problem.”

“Where were we?” He taps his knee. “Right, there’s something else you should know.”

Malaika feels her stomach do a flip-flop.

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