Her Dragon Billionaire (Supernatural Billionaire Mates 1)

“All right, sir.”

Liam put the car in gear and back out. He slammed the gas into the street.

A slice of fear went through him, chilling his heart. Eva, what did you remember?

“You’ll wait, right?” Eva asked the cab driver.

“I’ve got to keep the meter running, though.”

“No problem. I need you to take me home. It will only be ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Sure, Miss.”

“Thank you.” Eva got out of the cab. The Arcana Foundation building stood on the corner of a business district complex. Eva slammed the door and walked to the steps to the main entrance. Inside, she took an elevator to the second story. As soon as she got out, the small lobby of Arcana Foundation greeted her. Since she didn’t see any receptionist, she let herself into the main reception area. It was lunch time. Several people breezed in and out of the office. One of them did a double take at her.

“Eva?” the woman asked. She was tall with a dark complexion and her hair was twisted into a tight bun.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing showing up this late? You have Grimoire to restore.” The woman peeled off from her companions and flounced toward her. “Are you okay? You look a little off today.”

“Um, I know it may sound weird, but do I know you?”

“What’s wrong with you? I’m Magda Flores, your supervisor? Hello?”

“Sorry, I do feel under the weather. May I ask you a question? Do you know where I live?”

The woman went speechless for long seconds. “Follow me. Mr. Harrison asked for you earlier.”

Eva tailed her into the maze of cubicles and hallways, into the right wing of the building that apparently housed thousands of old and precious tomes. The temperature was climate-controlled. Everyone she saw in that section was wearing masks and gloves while handling fragile parchments and bibliophiles’ paraphernalia.

Magda Flores took her into the director’s sanctum. The name Herbert Harrison III was written in gold ink and gleamed from a plague mounted on a mahogany door. The office sanctum was as pretentious as Herbert’s name. Gold floral upholstered sofas. Rococo-style furniture. Velvet draperies with gold tassels. Bleh. Eva stalked behind Flores cautiously, trying hard to recall anything that could jog her memory. So far nothing. Nada.

Mr. Harrison himself was a portly man of about fifty; at a glance he looked like a Pillsbury Doughboy dressed in a suit. Light hair. Pink cheeks. He wasn’t the kind of man people would take seriously, even though he seemed to be trying hard to make himself to be one.

He waved to Ms. Flores, dismissing her from the room. He cleared his throat. “Ms. Smith.” He shot her a nasty look. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. Would it be too crazy if I told you that I bumped my head and now I have amnesia?”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t remember anything. I was hoping you could help me jog my memory. Where do I live? What is my job?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I swear I’m not.”

Mr. Harrison rose from his seat. Anger made his cheeks flush red. “That explains everything. You shouldn’t have come here. I really don’t want to do this.”

She didn’t see it coming. Mr. Harrison hit her on the head with a vase. One second she was fine. Seconds later she saw only blackness engulf her vision…

*

Her head hurt. Slowly, her consciousness swam back to the surface. What the hell happened? She moaned quietly. She found herself bound by the wrists and ankles. She was still in Harrison‘s office. Only Harrison wasn’t alone. He had two guests. Two tall men in crisp suits. Men with tattoos. vory v zakone.

She remembered everything.

She was supposed to be dead. These men had shot her and dumped her body into the river. She didn’t know how the hell she even survived.