Glamour: Contemporary Fairytale Retellings

It was only a matter of time before I did.

My entrance didn’t seem to faze the elderly woman who stood hunchback behind the counter. She just tilted her head a fraction to reveal her knowing, gray gaze.

Ah. No doubt, this was a woman who had seen many things. Made wise through the wounds of life.

“Addelaine Tindall,” I said, my voice low but somehow soft.

She gave a slight nod. “Mr. Wolfe.”

“I take it no introductions are necessary?”

A deep, short laugh echoed from her as she shook her head and went back to organizing the papers she had strewn across the counter. “That fancy suit you’re wearing is really what gives it away. Considering I’m the only one in these parts who could make something so fine, I know you must be from out of town.”

I began to wander the small storefront on the bottom floor, taking in the old pictures on the walls. The vast majority of them featured beaming brides in their custom wedding gowns. Others were family portraits that served as thank yous and endorsements. Proof of the talent that resided within these walls.

“Besides, men who look like you don’t typically walk through that door, Mr. Wolfe.”

I barely glanced back at her. “And what do I look like, Mrs. Tindall?”

“You look like a broken heart.”

I hummed in question. “Do I really look that dangerous?”

The small sound she made was somehow both disbelieving and affectionate. Catching me off guard, it made me pause and shift so I could read her expression.

“Wasn’t talking about you breakin’ the hearts, young man. I was referring to your own.”

I started to correct her ridiculous assumption but before I could, she winked.

A smile threatened, but I bit back my amusement. How was this woman making jokes when I was the one dragging her right up to the line?

I turned back to wandering the store, studying the pictures, my eyes going wide and my feet faltering when my sight landed on a cluster of pictures arranged on the wall near the counter.

Image after image of a raven-haired girl.

Young.

Beautiful then.

But different.

Broken.

Timid.

Not the bold woman who’d captured my thoughts and stoked my desire.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Addelaine said from right behind me, startling me.

A lump suddenly felt prominent in my throat. I forced the heavy words around it. “I didn’t realize she’d worked here.”

Mrs. Tindall tsked. “Men like you often don’t take the time to realize a lot of things. Look closer. You’ll see she didn’t just work here. She found herself here. I’d reckon this place was more like a home. A safe haven, if you will.”

Realization settled into my bones. “Which is why she wants to save your store?”

She shrugged a thin shoulder. “Women like Lillith fight for what they believe is right. For what they believe is fair.” She eyed me without fear. “So, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here, Mr. Wolfe.”

I fully turned around. “I came here to find out what it is you think is right.”





Chapter Eight





Lillith


I pounded on one side of the double doors. A frenzy of fury sped through my veins. It was the only thing that made me stupid enough to show up here. Of course he would be staying at the nicest hotel in town in the best suite. One call and I knew exactly where to find him.

I pounded harder.

Finally, the door to the penthouse suite flew open. My breath caught, and I swallowed around the awe that suddenly thickened my throat as a startling jolt of attraction flashed in the air.

God, how could I find this man so attractive?

He was so gorgeous. So appealing and big and bad.

I hated him, didn’t I?

I took a deep breath and found my resolve. Yes, I hated every single perfectly sculpted inch of him. I fisted the reason for my hate in my hand and charged passed him through the door. I spun around and shoved the paperwork his direction. “What is this?”

He widened his eyes as he let the door fall closed. “Please, Ms. Redd, do come inside.”

“I asked you what this is.” My voice was gravel as my gaze flashed down his body.

Desire burning me from the inside out.

I tried to stop them, I did, but I was assaulted by the memories of the alleyway from last night.

His fingers.

His mouth.

Heat swept across my flesh.

I looked away, as if I were suddenly interested in taking in the luxury of his suite. The area was dim, only a spray of light that tumbled in from the attached bedroom to my right cut across the floor. A living area was at the front and a long conference table was set up in the back near the floor-to-ceiling windows. It offered an awe-inspiring view of the city I loved.

The reason for my visit.

I turned my attention back to him and refused myself the pleasure of taking in his glorious face or his irresistible body. It was close to impossible to do, considering his shirt was unbuttoned, showing off a hint of the toned, olive skin of his chest and abdomen.

Oh God. This was so very bad.

I struggled to keep my mouth from trembling when I spat the words again. “What is this?”

He looked at me as if he couldn’t believe I could be so dense. “A contract of sale.”

“I know it’s a contract of sale. What I want to know is how you already have it and why Addelaine Tindall signed it.”

He stood a mere ten feet from me, the lines of his face playing in the shadows.

He slowly stalked forward. “I warned you, I always get what I want.”

“Not this time, you don’t. I told you I would see to it that building remained intact. I know her signature was coerced, and I intend to prove it.”

In a flash, he was in my face, his stance fierce and bristling as he backed me deeper into the space. “I would suggest you get your facts straight before you barge in here making accusations.”

My teeth grated. “She would never sign this of her own free will. I know her.”

He pried my fingers from the papers I fisted and tossed them onto the table I hadn’t even realized he had me backed against. “Ms. Redd, maybe you think you have it all figured out, or maybe you know absolutely nothing at all.”

“I know you’re an asshole.” It was a whisper against his lips. His lips that were suddenly crushing mine.

It was a tyranny. The way his mouth moved over mine and his hand fisted in my hair, jerking my head back as he commanded the kiss.

Aggressively.

Precisely.

Air shot from my lungs when he hoisted me onto the table, a massive hand gliding up my backside as he pushed up my skirt. He greedily gripped my ass. “I bet this ass will feel just as good as that sweet cunt.”

“Fuck you.” I hissed the words as I tore his shirt free from the wide, foreboding strength of his shoulders, exposing the raw beauty of this overpowering man.

Desire spiraled, pulsed, and ached.

He wedged his hips between my thighs as the demand of his kiss intensified.

Devouring.

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