Free The Pawn of the Phoenix (The Memory Collector Series Book 2) by Jamie McLachlan Page A

plan to gloat, don’t you?”
    “I would be lying if I said it wouldn’t give me immense pleasure to see the look on his face when he sees you walk out of here with me.”
    I suppose that makes two of us, but I feel a little disappointed in his response. “It better not be the only reason you’re inviting me over.”
    “Not at all.” He steps closer and secures my arm around his. “It would simply be a bonus. Shall we?”
    We don’t make it far before we spot the detective amongst the crowd. He stands alone, his eyes raking over the various faces before him. When his gaze settles on me, my heart plummets to my gut and dread washes over me as we stare at one another. I remember the thoughts I had read from his mind, and I force myself to meet his gaze coolly. His eyes flicker to Mr. Hayes before settling on our entwined arms. Though his expression remains impassive, a thick cloud of annoyance envelops him.
    He nods slightly in polite greeting. “Mr. Hayes.”
    “Mr. Edwards, I’m glad we caught sight of you.” Icarus glances sideways at me, and his smile acquires a devious curve. “Moira has agreed to come to my place for a visit. I thought it only proper to inform you considering the Elite have placed her in your care.”
    Keenan inhales deeply, and his eyes settle on me. “I see. May I have a word with you before you leave?”
    In my head, I immediately protest. But my mouth blurts out, “Of course.”
    Mr. Hayes turns to me and plants a soft kiss on my hand. “I’ll be in the foyer. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
    The moment Icarus leaves, I turn to the detective, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the nervousness that has settled deep in my chest. “Alright, Keenan, what is it you wish to say?”
    “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear, Moira.” He looks away from the other man’s retreating figure, and I’m once again squirming beneath that inquisitive gaze of his. “I thought I had expressed quite plainly you were to only approach Mr. Hayes if it was of your own accord, and not in an attempt to gain insight into Jonathan.”
    “You’ve made yourself perfectly clear,” I retort, barely containing my bitterness. The thoughts I had read last night come unbidden to the front of my mind, reminding me once again I was foolish to believe anything could happen between us.
    His eyes narrow in suspicion. “You go of your own accord then?”
    “I do.”
    “Very well, Moira.”
    The suspicion and aggravation I had glimpsed has now faded, an expression of cool indifference sliding easily into place. His mental barriers crash firmly around him so I can’t even sense his emotions anymore, and I’m reminded of the first day we had met—how he had regarded me with blatant hostility and distrust as I had held out my hand. I don’t even see that side of him at the moment, because that would mean he felt something toward me. And, currently, there’s no emotion in those green eyes.
    I swallow the lump in my throat. “Keenan–”
    “I believe Mr. Hayes said to not keep him waiting.”
    I don’t know what I was about to say—an apology, or an explanation. Because surely he knows nothing good would ever come out of us being together, and that it’s best if we keep our relationship purely professional. But as I’m walking away, I glance back at him and wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake.

5
    I ’m twenty-one years old—or at least I think I am, since I actually don’t know my birthdate—and I have never willingly been with a man as a woman and not a slave. Most of my experiences were done with reluctance and sometimes with a heavy dose of resentment. The majority of clients I had felt dispassionate about. A select few I hated; they were the ones who loved to leave their mark on me if I disobeyed. Then there was an even smaller group: clients whose company I enjoyed.
    Yet despite how I may have felt toward those men, our encounters were always between a concubine and a client—a service