Free KAGE (KAGE Trilogy #1) by Maris Black Page B

shadow fell across my paper. I jumped and spun around in my task chair.
    “Hi,” he said calmly, as if he had no idea he’d just scared the bejesus out of me.
    “Hi.” I worked to slow my banging heart.
    “You look different.” At my confused look, he reached up and tapped lightly on the frame of my glasses.
    “Oh, yeah.” I quickly snatched them off of my face and set them on the desk. Then I flipped my notepad face down on top of them and stood up. “Will my laptop be safe here?”
    “Maybe.” He shrugged. “I don’t think anybody will steal it. You got anything on that pad of paper you mind someone seeing?”
    “Paranoid much?” I regretted the question right after it cleared my lips, but Kage didn’t appear to take offense.
    “Lotta nosy people around here,” he said. “They like knowing what I’m up to, and I like to keep a little mystery.”
    I laughed. “You’re definitely a mystery.”
    “Yeah?” He grinned, obviously pleased to have me guessing.
    “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, Kage. I’m your publicist, and the first order of business for me is getting to know my client.”
    “You’ll know me soon enough. In fact, you may be regretting signing on for this job in a couple of weeks. You’re gonna get sick of seeing me.”
    For some reason, that comment made me feel awkward, and I shoved my hands into my pockets and looked away. I couldn’t come up with anything to say. All I could do was turn that thought over in my mind— spending time with Michael Kage. So much time I’d get sick of seeing him. I didn’t think anyone could get sick of seeing someone who looked like he did, but I did consider that I might need to take up drinking to calm my nerves around him.
    He was so incredibly larger than life. I’d never met anyone who made me feel so insignificant, so lacking. Either he sensed my unease and purposely came to the rescue, or he was oblivious to it, because he continued on smoothly.
    “Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”
    Again, everyone stared at us as we passed between the cubicles and exited through the office door. Kage led me on a winding path through the hotel lobby and the casino, down a hallway, and through a set of soundproof doors. I knew they were soundproof, because on one side of them the noise of the casino was deafening, and the other side was like putting my ear to a sea shell. Through the high-pitched ring of sudden silence in my ear came the tinkling of light music from the down the hall. Something ethereal like new age.
    The music was coming from the restaurant, dimly lit and furnished in dark leather and wood. A gentle flicker of candlelight added a romantic flair. The Grotto was chiseled into a rustic stone sign above the arched doorway, which was hung with Spanish moss and twigs.
    A young woman in a peasant-style dress met us at the door. Her hair was pulled severely back from her face, which was conspicuously clean-scrubbed. The unassuming style of her greeting furthered the impression of being served by a simple peasant girl.
    “Do you prefer a particular table today?” she asked Kage.
    “One of the private courtyard booths.”
    She grabbed a couple of menus and tucked them under her arm, cutting her eyes up at him several times. I was ashamed to realize that I could totally relate. He just had the kind of face that you had to keep checking, to confirm that it was indeed as unnaturally handsome as you remembered.
    And yes. Every time, yes.
    “No menus, thanks. Just tell Enzo we’re here.”
    She replaced them in their discreet holder behind the hostess podium and led us through the quiet restaurant, through a set of French doors, and onto a covered patio populated by wrought iron bistro tables. Some of the diners glanced up at us as we passed, then resumed eating from crude earthenware dishes that somehow looked more sophisticated than the finest China against the backdrop of The Grotto.
    Booths were built along the back wall of the