JК
A Caress Of Twilight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 45 из 236"
Standing on the hard driveway in my three-inch heels, under the sun that was beginning to make sweat bead on my skin, I just didn't want to mess with it. I did probably the most unprofessional thing I've ever done. I started yelling at the top of my voice, "Maeve Reed, Maeve Reed, come out to play. It's Princess Meredith and her entourage." I kept yelling the first part. "Maeve Reed, Maeve Reed, come out to play."
Ethan tried to yell me down a few times, but I'd had voice training, years of public speaking — I was louder. None of Ethan's people knew what to do. I wasn't hurting anyone, I was just yelling. Five minutes of confusion and a young woman opened the door. She was Marie, Ms. Reed's personal assistant. Would we like to come inside? Yes, we would. It took another ten minutes to get us through the door because Ethan wanted to take our weapons. It took Marie hinting that Ms. Reed would fire them all, before he backed down.
Max and Rhys were laughing so hard that we had to leave them outside, hanging on to each other like a couple of drunks. At least someone was enjoying themselves.
Chapter 8
Maeve Reed's living room was larger than my entire apartment. Off-white carpet stretched like a vanilla sea down the steps to the sunken living room and a fireplace big enough to roast small elephants. The mantel alone took up most of one white stuccoed wall, with red and tan bricks punctuating the rough whiteness of the wall. A white sectional sofa big enough to seat twenty curved in front of the fireplace. Tan, gold, and white pillows were thrown around artfully. There was a grouping of white chairs with a small pale wood table between them. A chessboard with oversize pieces sat between the two chairs, and a curving Tiffany floor lamp provided a splash of color in the otherwise monochrome room.
A painting to one side of the fireplace echoed the lamp's colors, and a second conversational group of white chairs and cushions was set on the raised edge of the room opposite the entrance. A large white Christmas tree stood in the center of the chairs. The tree was covered in white lights with gold and silver ornaments that should have livened the room but didn't. The tree was just another decoration without life or feeling to it. A table was pushed to one side to make room for the Christmas tree, with what looked like lemonade and iced tea in tall pitchers. A few more paintings were scattered, throughout the room, most of them matching the color scheme of the lamp.
Standing on the hard driveway in my three-inch heels, under the sun that was beginning to make sweat bead on my skin, I just didn't want to mess with it. I did probably the most unprofessional thing I've ever done. I started yelling at the top of my voice, "Maeve Reed, Maeve Reed, come out to play. It's Princess Meredith and her entourage." I kept yelling the first part. "Maeve Reed, Maeve Reed, come out to play."
Ethan tried to yell me down a few times, but I'd had voice training, years of public speaking — I was louder. None of Ethan's people knew what to do. I wasn't hurting anyone, I was just yelling. Five minutes of confusion and a young woman opened the door. She was Marie, Ms. Reed's personal assistant. Would we like to come inside? Yes, we would. It took another ten minutes to get us through the door because Ethan wanted to take our weapons. It took Marie hinting that Ms. Reed would fire them all, before he backed down.
Max and Rhys were laughing so hard that we had to leave them outside, hanging on to each other like a couple of drunks. At least someone was enjoying themselves.
Chapter 8
Maeve Reed's living room was larger than my entire apartment. Off-white carpet stretched like a vanilla sea down the steps to the sunken living room and a fireplace big enough to roast small elephants. The mantel alone took up most of one white stuccoed wall, with red and tan bricks punctuating the rough whiteness of the wall. A white sectional sofa big enough to seat twenty curved in front of the fireplace. Tan, gold, and white pillows were thrown around artfully. There was a grouping of white chairs with a small pale wood table between them. A chessboard with oversize pieces sat between the two chairs, and a curving Tiffany floor lamp provided a splash of color in the otherwise monochrome room.
A painting to one side of the fireplace echoed the lamp's colors, and a second conversational group of white chairs and cushions was set on the raised edge of the room opposite the entrance. A large white Christmas tree stood in the center of the chairs. The tree was covered in white lights with gold and silver ornaments that should have livened the room but didn't. The tree was just another decoration without life or feeling to it. A table was pushed to one side to make room for the Christmas tree, with what looked like lemonade and iced tea in tall pitchers. A few more paintings were scattered, throughout the room, most of them matching the color scheme of the lamp.