Shadowplay: A Dark Billionaire Romantic Suspense (The Devils in D.C. Book 1) by Shaw Angel M

Author:Shaw, Angel M.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Love & Letters Press, LLC
Published: 2024-07-23T00:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

WINTER

August is quiet and still on the drive over to Potomac Mills. We’re both bundled up in scarves and coats, but the blast of the heater causes a bead of sweat to roll down my back. Thanksgiving sped past, and the streets have Christmas lights strung around the light poles.

We should be in a mood of Christmas cheer. Instead, the energy is somber. I don’t want to move because August seems fragile, like he’s a moment away from melting down. Kitty shakes his head from side to side, sniffing in the hot air before putting his face on the seat where he rests.

August requested this trip—he wanted to go back to the home he lived in with his mother for most of his life. I wasn’t sure then and I’m not sure now if this is a good idea, but it’s important to August.

I don’t say no.

August’s maternal grandparents never had a funeral for his mother, instead choosing to quietly cremate her and bring the remains with them to Florida where they’ve retired. August hasn’t said how he feels about it—the lack of closure—despite my trying to bring the topic up several times in our sessions.

Two bodyguards follow our SUV as we amble down I-95. August’s driver, Jared, talks with August’s new guard, Rex. I haven’t seen his original guard—the one who shook him—since that day in the foyer. Rex has a kind face, speaks softly, and moves intentionally—despite being at least 250 pounds of solid muscle.

We pull up to the home, and sadness washes over me. I’m not completely sure why. It’s a three-story colonial with tall white pillars on the front. There are four black rocking chairs on the porch, and thick canvas covers the plants, protecting them from the frost. Someone, probably Hunter, is keeping the property maintained. Still, the home looks dead. Desolate.

I shiver, and it has nothing to do with the December chill.

“Do you want to go in?” I ask August slowly and in a low voice. I don’t want to startle him. He stares out the window with an emotionless glare. I know his expressions are deceiving. His face often gives nothing away, but his words express the depth of his feelings.

“No,” August says.

I nod.

He opens the door and I scramble out after him when I see the two guards in the other car exit. Tossing a command at Kitty to stay, which he gleefully does, I wave the guards off, forcing them to go back into their vehicle. They look at each other, then back at me, standing still outside their SUV. When I give them a fierce glare and put my gloved hands on my hips, they roll their eyes and return to their seats.

I stand next to August. “Do you want me to wait in the car too, or am I good to stand here with you?”

He’s silent for several seconds, probably a minute or two, before he says, “Whatever you want.”

His eyes return to the colonial home. “I’ll stay right here next to you,” I say, taking a step closer.

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