“Whoa,” she murmured on a stunned breath.
“Impressed?” Mason asked through an amused smile. He would be very handsome if he didn’t ruffle her feathers so easily.
“Your boss is a billionaire, isn’t he?”
“Does that bother you?”
“A little. I can’t even pay my rent on time, and my body would revolt if I ate anything other than freeze-dried noodle bowls. I’m feeling a little prejudiced right now, but it’ll probably pass.”
Mason snorted. “Well, at least you’re honest. This way.”
He snatched her bag out of her hands before she could resist and led her up a winding stone pathway to the front porch. The double doors alone looked as though they belonged to some ancient castle. Scuffed wood, scratched, and stained a deep red color. Giant serpent head door knockers made her want to try one just to see what kind of noise it would make. When she reached for one of the heavy metal knockers, however, Mason gave her a grumpy look, so she clenched her hand and abstained.
Mason hesitated in the sprawling, white marble entryway. “Whatever happens now,” he whispered, “I’d ask that you refrain from sharing what you experience here.”
What the hell kind of ghosts required secrecy? She held up three fingers and swore, “Werebear’s honor.”
Mason didn’t look amused. “Follow me.”
Why was he whispering like this place was a library and not a modern day fortress. Her flip flops clacked loudly across the slippery marble floors, and she cleared her throat nervously. “I thought I would have a chance to change my clothes before I got here.”
Mason didn’t answer.
“I would’ve worn a dress…” She sidled away from a statue of a Grecian man with a water fountain coming out of his tiny penis and splashing into a marble bowl below him. “Or something.”
“Lie.”
Gah, he was so annoying. “Perhaps dresses aren’t my thing, but I would’ve worn pants.” Probably. She tugged at the short hem of her cutoff shorts and pulled up the scoop neck of her tank top to cover her cleavage a little better. “These are my traveling clothes.” Another lie but Mason didn’t point it out. She lived on the coast of Florida, and beachwear was all the rage. “Or a shirt with sleeves.” Because this one was definitely not covering the dragon tattoo she had on her shoulder. And was that an actual metal suit of arms? “It feels like Antarctica in here.”
“Do you ever stop talking?”
Clara stifled the urge to trip him by his polished shoes, but just barely. “Not when I’m nervous.”
“A dominant grizzly like yourself? Nervous? I don’t believe that.”
“I’ve never met a sea cucumber shifter before. You intimidate me, Mason.”
The dark-haired man shook his head in annoyance, but didn’t respond. This place felt like a mausoleum, and not only that, but there was a weight here she didn’t understand. And the deeper she followed Mason into the home, the more it pressed upon her shoulders and made it hard to breathe. Maybe it was because she was traveling deeper into the side of the cliff. Even with a bear inside of her, she’d never been a fan of caves or tight places.
Mason reached a set of twenty-foot tall mahogany double doors and inhaled deeply before he pushed them open. Not wanting to be left alone, Clara looked back down the long, cold corridor from which they’d come and scurried in after Mason.
“Mr. Daye, I’d like to introduce you to Ms. Clara Sutterfield.”
Clara locked eyes on the man behind the desk and jerked to a stop. His raven-black hair was short on the sides and longer on top. Right at his temples, he’d gone slightly silver, but his maturity there didn’t match his smooth, wrinkle-less face. His sharp jaw clenched, and a muscle twitched there. His eyes went from the color of pitch to the silver of a knife blade in an instant. A spark of recognition in his gaze matched hers, though she couldn’t put her finger on where she’d seen him before.
He sat there behind the desk with a stack of papers in front of him and his pen tip resting on one like he’d been in the middle of signing. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t draw a single breath trapped in his gaze like this, and the hairs on the back of her neck lifted. A soft rumble filled the room, but it wasn’t the growl of a fellow grizzly. He was something bigger. Only something truly terrifying would make a warning sound like that. Inside, her bear screamed to run—run away from this place and never look back.
The man blinked slowly, and his pupils dilated and lengthened in that churning silver color to look like a snake’s. Holy shit. He was beautiful. Lethal, deadly, but with an angelic face.