The Revelation of Light and Dark (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 1)

It was luck I found Olympic Dreams and got an appointment. That led to the grant. And that grant ultimately led to me being able to buy One Bean.

But was it good or bad luck I met Carrick?

Good or bad that he saw me freak out when I saw through Marcus’ glamour?

Is it good or bad in its entirety that I’ve managed to attach myself to Carrick as a means to figure out if I indeed have some purpose past owning One Bean? Oh, if only I could tell Michael I’m probably far more interesting than he could ever know.

But sadly, he’d never understand.

No one in my life would because what I can do and the things I’ve learned defy reason and logic. It’s something I could never share with Michael if we were to keep seeing each other, and I kind of hope we do. I’ve enjoyed everything about my time with him tonight, and I don’t want to waste another opportunity.

“You mentioned giving me a tour of your studio sometime,” I say to remind him of the conversation we had over salads. I’d told him of my modest artistic ability, which never expanded past charcoals, and he offered a painting lesson. It sounded like a fabulous second date idea to me.

“That would be…” he says, but then his gaze slides to something behind me, turning puzzled. Frowning, he brings his attention back to me. “Didn’t you say your silent investment partner was Carrick Byrne?”

I had indeed. Back when he was peppering me with all the details of how I came to own One Bean over our first glass of wine. Of course, Michael knew who Carrick Byrne was, along with the rest of Seattle—the exception being me apparently.

“Yeah,” I reply hesitantly.

Michael’s gaze moves past me again, and he nods. “Well, he’s here, and he’s walking this way.”

An intense shiver moves up my spine, shooting goosebumps down my arms. I wish I’d kept my bolero jacket on rather than removing it because I’d been a bit warm earlier.

I shift in my chair, my mouth gaping.

Sure enough, Carrick winds his way through tables, his eyes pinned on me as he heads straight for us.

His expression makes me ill at ease. It’s not exactly anger, but it’s not the original disdain I frequently see, either. As ever, there’s determination, but I think that’s par for the course when it comes to powerful people.

No, Carrick actually looks… pained?

No, that’s not it. The man doesn’t have the capacity. He’s too cold and rigid.

Regretful?

No, that’s not it either.

By the time he reaches the table, anything I thought I saw is gone and his face is devoid of anything other than that superior-to-all-else attitude he inherently has.

“What are you doing here?” I ask in astonishment. “Wait… how did you even know where I was for that matter?”

Carrick doesn’t even acknowledge Michael, and he most certainly doesn’t apologize for the disturbance. Instead, he’s smug and confident. “You know I love my secrets, Miss Porter. But something important has come up regarding your education and training, and it needs your attention.”

He put enough emphasis on education and training that I immediately realize he’s found something that might be able to explain more about myself.

“Education and training?” Michael asks.

My gaze moves across the table to him, but my mind is blank. “Um…”

“It’s regarding the grant Olympic Dreams gave her,” Carrick answers smoothly, twisting to peer haughtily down at Michael. “She has certain requirements to fulfill to keep the grant.”

“On a weekend night at eight-thirty?” Michael’s expression is dubious and a little defensive.

Carrick smiles slyly. “Big business never sleeps.”

“Are you sure it can’t wait?” I ask Carrick, not ready to have my date be cut short.

He doesn’t even give me his regard. Instead, he keeps his eyes pinned on Michael, almost daring the man to challenge his authority. “No. It has to be tonight, and it has to be now.”

Michael’s eyes narrow. I can tell he doesn’t believe a thing Carrick says, but he doesn’t challenge him. Instead, he inclines his head to me. “It’s okay, Finley. If you have to go, then go.”

Michael’s tone is flat, and it’s clear he doesn’t mean a word of what he just said. It’s embarrassing because I’m sure he thinks something is going on between Carrick and me, and he’s ruining this date for personal reasons.

And I can’t dissuade Michael from that notion because Carrick wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t found something or someone who might know something, and time is apparently of the essence. But I can’t tell Michael that. I can’t tell anyone a damn thing about what’s going on with me.

“I’m so sorry,” I murmur to Michael as I rise from my chair. He does the same thing, and in a gallant move, he pushes between the table and Carrick, forcing the other man to step back so he can assist me.