Midnight Magic, page 179
Regie stood. "This is my...fiancé," she said to Payel. Dang, she still couldn't say it without stumbling over the word.
Her assistant tilted her head back again to gaze up at Mr. Varg. A big smile adorned her face. "I'm so happy to meet you." She put the tablet under her arm, grabbed his right hand in both of hers, and pumped it up and down. "I'm Payel. I'm Ms. Lansford's assistant. I mean, I'm Regie's assistant."
Regie had never seen her assistant smile that big before. It bothered her a little that another woman reacted so strongly on her fiancé.
Wait, her fake fiancé.
It was important to remember the fake part. Especially when the man in question focused his intense gaze on her and she could feel the heat of it down to her toes.
CHAPTER 14
Payel kept pumping Mr. Varg’s hand vigorously.
"I’m Bolt," he said while gently liberating his hand. “It’s so great to meet you. Regie speaks highly of you.”
She hadn’t even mentioned her assistant to Mr. Varg, but Payel blushed so happily and threw Reggie a grateful look that she was glad he’d uttered the white lie."Well, she has nothing on her schedule, so you'll have plenty of time to chat." Payel winked at Regie and then turned back to Mr. Varg...Bolt. "Oh, you should take her to lunch. She never takes the time to eat a proper midday meal."
He smiled down at Payel. "I was hoping she'd have time to grab a bite."
"She doesn't have anything scheduled for the next two hours, so she's all yours." Her assistant threw one last wink at Regie before sashaying out the door, closing it behind her.
"She's very enthusiastic," Mr. Varg...Bolt said as he walked across the room and claimed the chair that Payel had just vacated.
Regie sat back down in her chair. "She is. But she also has razor-sharp intelligence and is super-efficient. I couldn't ask for a better PA." She felt strangely defensive and protective of Payel as if he'd accused her assistant of being the stalker. "You don't think she could be...."
He raised his hands, palms facing her. "No, she's not under suspicion. We investigated those working closest to you first, and your assistant did not raise any red flags."
"Who is raising flags?" She could hear the anxiousness in her voice.
"Nobody at the moment, but we've only been working this case for twenty-four hours. Deep-diving into people's emails, financial records, social media, and their personal lives takes time."
Regie sighed. "I know. I just want this to be over with, so my life can get back to normal." And she didn't have to work so hard to suppress the swirling blackness inside her.
"Well, maybe some bling will cheer you up." He took a small robin's egg blue box out of his pocket and slid it across the desk.
She opened it and couldn't help but gasp when she saw the large radiant-cut diamond encased in a platinum setting. Three smaller princess-cut diamonds flanked each side. "I can't wear this," she whispered.
He frowned. "Why not?"
"It's too expensive."
He stared at her for a beat, and then a burst of deep laughter escaped from his mouth. When he calmed down, he leaned back, resting one boot-clad foot on the opposite knee. "You're the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. I'd think you'd expect a big expensive rock for your engagement ring."
Regie blushed. Her wealth came with great perks, like the apartment with its extra security measures, but her increasing fortune had never been for her. At least not to spend on herself. It was about making up for her father's folly and to honor and award her employee's hard work. "I'm not used to wearing such ostentatious jewelry."
Bolt frowned. "If you don't like it, we can get you something else." He reached for the box. "Your dossier said you liked platinum."
Regie snatched the gorgeous ring away. "I do. I love the ring. I just..." She didn't know how to explain. "I just don't know how to handle a fake engagement."
"Maybe that's something we can learn together, Regina." His smile was gentle. "I'm new at this game too."
That word bothered her.
She didn't know how to play games.
She never had.
In her business life and in her personal life, she tried to be as honest and straightforward as possible. That made things so much easier because she didn't have to keep track of lies or half-truths. Somehow, knowing fake engagements weren't standard procedure for him made her feel better. "Well, the first thing you should know is that everyone who works with me, and all my friends, call me Regie."
He frowned. "Your file says I should call you, Regina."
"That's probably because my grandfather filled out most of that paperwork, but he's the only one who calls me my actual name. When I was a little girl, I told him I hated nicknames, and so he’s always called me by my proper name." She slid the ring onto her finger and held it out in front of her, letting it sparkle in the sun rays shining in through the window. "He does have good taste in jewelry, though."
“And do you still hate nicknames?” Bolt asked, a glint of mischievousness in his eye. “Because I think we need silly terms of endearment for each other. Isn’t that what couples do?”
She hesitated, not knowing what to do with this new playful side of him. “I think ‘Regie’ will be just fine.”
He shook his head. “No, if that’s what everyone else calls you, I’m going to call you ‘Babe.’”
She groaned. “That sounds way too condescending and objectified. Pick another one.”
“Nope. Since I’m not intellectually your equal, that’s the best I can do.” He grinned at her.
“I knew Grandfather’s words would come back and bite me.”
Bolt laughed again, the sound starting as a deep rumble in his chest before cascading out and filling up the room. The sound made her happy, and she couldn't help but join in.
That was not a good thing.
This man, this fake fiancé, had her emotions going up and down like on a rollercoaster.
She didn’t like rollercoasters. Especially not one with hills as steep as this one.
CHAPTER 15
Bolt nodded to the woman behind the concierge desk at the entrance of Regina's...Regie's building. As he waited for the elevator, he checked the food containers inside the paper bag he carried. He'd promised to bring food for tonight's dinner, but the bag—and the containers—had gotten a little scrunched in the saddlebags on his bike. He'd forgotten he'd ridden his Harley Softail instead of taking one of the pack's SUVs when he made the offer of getting food. It had made sense last night to take the bike on his ride to Regie’s. He'd been restless and needed to feel the wind in his face and the bite of the chilled Bay Area evening air. He'd tried to make up for not having the time for his wolf to run free before picking up another case.
Transporting take-out on a motorcycle made less sense.
The elevator dinged its arrival. He got in and pushed the button for Regie's floor. She lived on the top residential floor. There was one more level above her, but those were occupied by big open suites available for the residents should they want to throw a party for a hundred or so of their closest friends. There were both indoor and outdoor entertainment spaces. Both offered the same splendid view that Regie's apartment had. A few levels below her, the whole floor offered a state-of-the-art gym and an Olympic-size pool, as well as changing rooms with saunas and steam rooms.
He'd been housed in worse places during a case.
As he stepped out of the elevator, he yawned big. Watching the employees for Lofn Wellness being interviewed by Arek and Justice had tired him out. They'd staged the interviews as if they were part of the IPO process, and since Bolt was the CEO's fiancé, he couldn't be part of the questioning. Instead, he'd watched via a live video feed. It had been frustrating and a little boring not to be able to participate. So, it was understanding that he was tired. It had nothing to do with him tossing and turning the night before because he was sleeping only a few steps away from a very attractive woman. Or that his wolf had sulked when Bolt didn’t sneak into her room, as the beast had suggested.
He knocked on said woman's door and then entered when he heard her call for him to come in. She greeted him in the entryway. Her only reaction to the mangled paper bag was a raised eyebrow. "Hey," she said and handed him a key card. "I requested this for you. I know you already have arranged to have access to the building, and since we're supposedly living together, it doesn't make sense that you have to knock on the door each time you come home...here." She rubbed a palm against her thigh.
"Thanks." He pocketed the card, appreciating her taking the initiative. If she hadn't, he'd asked for a key, but he didn't want to push it since she obviously valued her privacy. She was still getting used to living with cameras everywhere. "I meant to ask you why you decided to name your company Lofn Wellness," he said as he walked into the kitchen and unpacked the food containers. Their contents hadn’t leaked, despite their slightly misshapen forms.
"How familiar are you with Norse mythology?" she asked.
He smiled at her. "I work for a company named after the god of light, security, and surveillance. The god who keeps watch for invaders and the onset of Ragnarök from where the burning rainbow bridge meets the sky." And he was one of Odin's ulfheidnar, the Allfather's elite wolf warriors. But that wasn't something he could share with a regular human. If they knew how many supernatural creatures walked among them, they'd freak.
"Okay," her lips twitched. "I guess what I should ask is how familiar you are with Norse goddesses."
Well, she kind of had him there. He knew the main goddesses, but not much about the minor ones. Bolt dug deep into what he knew about Norse mythology. "I know Lofn is the goddess of comfort and love. Is that how you think of your company, loving and offering comfort?"
Her lips stretched into a full smile. "That's part of it. Lofn also arranges marriages between unions that have been forbidden by society or authority. She is the goddess of forbidden love."
He tilted his head, squinting at her. "Wellness is forbidden?" This made no sense.
"No." She shook her head. "Nobody has anything against people being fit. But for individuals who identify as women, society makes it really hard for us to accept ourselves as enough. There are so many rules about what size we should be, what hairstyle we should wear, even about how we should behave. One of the forbidden loves in our culture is a woman loving herself fully without feeling the need to change herself according to the norms and constraints society puts on her." So, pretty much what Laney had iterated.
Bolt also remembered Justice's argument about Lofn's marketing. "But aren't you contradicting yourself if you're selling fitness with a message that people don't have to change? Isn't working out about changing yourself?"
"I hear this argument a lot, but not from many women.” A half-smile played on Regie's lips.
He got lost in the softness of her mouth and wondered what it would they would taste like. His wolf rumbled in agreement. Bolt quickly forced himself to stop obsessing about Regies lips and instead concentrate on the words they were saying.
He’d lied to Justice. This job was not like any other job.
This woman was not like any other woman. And he was in major trouble.
CHAPTER 16
Regie waved her hand in the air. “The idea is that if a person accepts themselves as enough—or is working toward accepting themselves fully—they would choose fitness and wellness to feel better for themselves. Not to change for someone else. Or, on a deeper level, because they are already living an amazing and fulfilling life, they want the energy and longevity that wellness gives them to enjoy that life more—and maybe for longer."
Bolt didn't quite get it, but maybe that was because he was a dude. He did understand the role of physical exercise in order to be stronger and faster. Both he and his wolf enjoyed a life of being strong and fast. Was that the same thing? "Okay, but isn't it a little hypocritical of you to preach about accepting yourself when you look like you do?"
Regie tilted her head. "I don't follow. What about my looks?"
Seriously, was the woman blind? He gestured toward her, spinning his finger in the air. "You must know that you are considered pretty, even beautiful." This was awkward. Why did he start this conversation? He was an idiot. The wolf inside him perked up his head.
She gazed at him for a moment. "You think I'm beautiful?"
Some emotion glittered in her eye, but he couldn't interpret it. The collar of his shirt scratched his neck. He unbuttoned the top button. "Most people would." He cleared his throat.
"Unless those people preferred someone taller, or shorter, or skinnier, or curvier, or with darker hair, or a different nose, or a—"
"Okay, okay. I get your point." He held up his hands. Time for a completely different topic. "There's something we need to do before our public appearance tomorrow."
"What's that?"
"We need to practice touching each other." He cleared his throat again. Dang, he must have swallowed a fly or something on the ride over.
Regie blinked a few times. "Could you repeat that?" She stood stock-still.
"If people are going to believe that we are really engaged, we need to touch each other in public. People in love show public displays of affection. We need to practice PDAs."
She swallowed. "Really? We need to practice?" Her voice squeaked at the end of the last word.
"Yes. In order to appear like a real couple, we need to look like we are comfortable with physical intimacy." At least, that's what Arek and Justice had told him. He could see their point.
And on the one hand, he looked forward to touching the beautiful Ice Queen.
On the other hand, his wolf was already reacting weirdly to this woman.
No need to encourage the beast. But since it had to be done, he took a step toward her and reached up to touch her face.
Regie quickly leaned back, out of reach. "We're starting now?"
"Yes, and the way you just reacted is why we need to practice." She hadn't exactly flinched, but it was close. He'd obviously started with too much, too fast. "First of all, you need to know that I would never hurt you. And if you are ever uncomfortable with anything I do, just say so."
Her eyes sparkled with emotion. "Okay. I think I instinctively knew that already, but thank you for saying so."
He swallowed. "Let's start with something easier. I'm going to take your hand and hold it." His palm felt damp. He wiped it on his pants before taking her slender finger in his.
Sparks zapped his skin where it touched hers.
He dropped her hand.
For a moment, he thought he smelled witchcraft, but the scent was gone when he sniffed the air again. Mine, whispered his wolf.
She rubbed her hand. "Static again?"
He nodded. "Must be." What the fuck was going on? “How about we eat instead and practice later?”
Regie nodded vigorously. “Yes, that’s a great idea.” She stepped into the kitchen and started opening the food containers. “Mexican is one of my favorites.”
His wolf pushed its way to the surface. Ours, it whispered.
Stand the fuck down, Bolt ordered it.
The beast chuffed its mirth.
CHAPTER 17
The Lizzie Starlight ballroom, on the twenty-first floor of the historic Sir Francis Drake Hotel, had floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree panoramic view of San Francisco. Regie felt like she was floating on clouds. She couldn't wait until darkness fell so she could see the city aglow in all its lights below.
The ballroom used to just be called The Starlight Room, but after a recent renovation, “Lizzie” had been added, a nod to the supposed amorous relationship between Francis Drake and Queen Elizabeth. As much as she would love to have a house with a garden, she truly loved San Francisco with all of its charm and quirks.
Her grandfather squeezed her hand that she'd placed on his arm. "Nervous?" he asked as he led her across the room and to their table.
Regie nodded. "It's not every day a girl gets to announce her fake fiancé." She looked around the space, checking out the flower arrangements and the splendid table settings.
She was not at all looking for Bolt, even though she hadn't seen him since their dinner the night before, and might be just a little worried about him. While they ate their Mexican food, which had been delicious, he'd gotten a phone call and suddenly had to leave for the Heimdall Shield office. He didn't give her details about the emergency but had asked her not to leave the apartment or let anyone in until the driver and car that usually escorted her to and from the office showed up in the morning.
"It will be okay." Her grandfather's words brought her thoughts back to the events of the evening. He stopped their progress toward the table. "Regina, whatever happens, you know that I care about you, right?"
She frowned. That was an odd thing to say. "Of course. What do you think will happen?" She searched his face for clues. Did he look pale, or was that just an effect of the black tuxedo and the white dress shirt he wore? "Is everything okay? Are you sick?"
He shook his head and then smiled his regular smile. "No, I'm sorry for worrying you. I guess this old man is just feeling sentimental. I know it's a fake engagement that you're announcing this evening, but on some level, I wish your mother was here to see it."
Tears welled up in Regie's eyes. He so rarely wanted to talk about her mother. She had so many questions, but Grandfather always just waved them away, saying it was too painful to talk about his daughter.
Regie’s memories of her parents were those of an eight-year-old, and she'd like to know more about them now that she was an adult. There were pictures, but that wasn't the same as knowing details like how they’d met or what their favorite colors were. Of course, her grandfather would never speak of her father. He considered him an interloper who had taken his daughter away from him and squandered his fortune.
