It’s the only—I don’t know—softpart of him. Everything else about him is hard lines and power.
Power I don’t doubt he enforces.
“I need a favour,” Sebastian finally says, his body tense.
The man I assume is Mr. Hale looks to me, his face unreadable. He stares, his brown eyes locking with mine, and an unsettled feeling instantly overcomes me, screaming for me to run.
His calculating gaze spears through me, and I can feel him burrowing inside, trying to get to everything I hide.
“And what would that be?” he asks without looking away from me.
“New identification. Non-traceable.”
“For yourself, or—” His gaze flicks to Sebastian, then to me again, even though I’m sure he already knows the answer.
Sebastian’s jaw clenches at that, but he doesn’t look at me. “For the girl.”
Mr. Hale is silent for a moment before finally turning his attention back to Sebastian. “It’ll cost you…”
“That’s not a problem.”
“I suppose it isn’t,” he says, his lip hooking just barely at the corner. “Are you going to introduce us?”
Sebastian looks like he wants to do anything but. And as much as I want to run out of this place and never look back, I can’t do that without help. I need Sebastian, and he needs me, and right now, it seems we both need the man sitting on the other side of this desk.
“Grace, this is Lucas Hale, the owner of Obsidian,” Sebastian says, but something tells me this man does a lot more than just run a nightclub.
Lucas extends his arm across the desk, palm out and waiting.
I tentatively reach out my hand and slide it into his, his tanned skin a contrast to my pale complexion. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss…”
I pause at the question as his large hand swallows mine in a firm hold and steal a glance at Sebastian. He dips his head at my hesitation like he’s answering an unspoken question. Is that what I’m doing, seeking his approval?Encouragement?Before I can think more about it, I break the connection with a metaphorical snap and focus on Lucas again before repeating the same name I’d told them in the apartment.
Lucas hums before letting go, accepting my answer. But there’s a niggling feeling telling me he doesn’t miss a thing.