Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“Deal. I’ll be out there next week to take measurements. I’ll send the garments overnight once they’re done. If anything needs adjusting—”
“Next week perfect. You come to pre-wedding banquet, dah? My personal plooz one.”
Plus one? Pluses were for friends or dates. And Damien knew Boris was all about “zi poozy.” He spoke incessantly about how much of it he got during their poker games.
So, he thinks we’re friends?
Boris continued, “I tell everybody about zi great tailor Damien Greystone. They always compliment me on my shirts. I look ten pounds lighter when I wear them.”
Damien mentally grunted. Boris was trying to help him get new clients? He did not want to insult the man, but Damien didn’t need more clients. He needed security for Sky and her family. Also, Damien had rules about friendship. Rules that kept others safe. Friends, lovers, one-night stands, they were all off-limits.
But I can’t say no. “I would love to attend the dinner next week.”
“Good. We have deal.”
“Thank you, Boris. I will text the details about my client. Hopefully, the job won’t last more than a day or two.” Damien planned to find these people, including the governor’s brother, and send them a message. Politely, of course, since he wasn’t a fixer anymore. He did not threaten, break thumbs, bust kneecaps, or cap asses. He sewed nice garments.
They ended the call, and Damien got into his SUV, starting the engine. He set his GPS for the mall. With any luck, he’d make it just before closing. He still needed to find that sex fairy, and the best place to start was the security video.
CHAPTER SIX
“Sorry, Mr. Greystone, but the police confiscated the footage from that day.” The middle-aged, bald security guard, wearing a khaki uniform three sizes too small, offered Damien a consoling look. “But between you and me, I saw the tape. There wasn’t anything on it.”
Damien tried not to stare at the buttons about to pop from the shirt. He really wanted to fix them. “You saw nothing unusual at all?”
“The angle just outside the fitting room showed a moth under one of the lights, but that was it. A moth. I even slowed the footage.” He lowered his voice. “I think the woman was on something. And now, every kook in the country is camping outside our store.”
That moth could actually be the fairy. They moved quite fast, which might result in a blurry effect. “Did you get a picture of the moth?”
“Sorry?”
“This moth. Perhaps if I showed it to the woman—for her therapy—she’d see it was nothing more than a harmless insect,” he lied.
The security guard frowned. “No. I didn’t get a photo.”
Damien thought not. His next step would be to ask the police if they would allow him a look at the footage. A long shot, but worth a try.
“Hey, if you really want to see the tape,” said the guard, “someone leaked it. It’s all over the internet.”
Why hadn’t he thought of that? Likely because he was centuries old, and using technology was generally an afterthought. “Thank you.”
Damien left the mall and went for his SUV. It took only a moment to pull up the video on his phone. Apparently, it had gone viral, and people were making a fuss over it. The video with the most hits was entitled: Fairy tale or moth myth?
He hit play. The small figure on his tiny screen darted out from beneath the dressing room door moments before the store manager came to assist Sky. The moth streaked by the camera and had a shiny lavender hue.
Yep. A fairy. Moths typically didn’t sparkle, but fairies did. Their wings were covered with microscopic specks of iridescent minerals.
Damien continued to watch as the drama unfolded. The store manager helped Sky get her pants on, mostly blurred out, and then she called the police.
“What is this?” Damien hit replay. There was a split second where the small, shiny form appeared again. It went for Sky’s purse.
Could it be? Could Sky have taken the creature home without knowing?
But why would it do such a thing?
I have to find that fairy. And the only place he could think of was Sky’s house. Or her purse?
Damien picked up his phone to call Sky, but it went to voicemail. She was likely busy with her nephew or speaking to the police, who’d been called to make a report. Damien would stop by her house on the way back to the hospital and look for signs of a tiny, winged intruder.
Just after ten p.m., Damien pulled into Sky’s driveway. He ignored the fact that every time his mind drifted to thoughts of the woman—those warm brown eyes and full lips—he felt an unwelcome surge of heat in his groin and chest.
No. This is not desire. It was merely a physiological response to her female form, no different than how his dick got hard when he woke each morning. Perfectly natural. Especially for a virile man such as himself.