Madeline's POV - Chapter 14 - Once upon A Soulmate - Mirror & Realms #1
I stood in the doorway of Ciaran LeBlanc's office, my journalistic instincts on high alert. The air was thick with the scent of power, money, and a cologne that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
Wait. The company's HQ was in London. This New York office was temporary, not his usual setup.
I stepped inside. Nope, not cologne — just fancy office air freshener.
Ciaran's striking gray eyes locked onto mine, jolting my body and short-circuiting my cynicism.
Raven-dark hair, slightly long, almost touching his shoulders. The face that God created when He was in a very good mood. Ciaran sat there like a modern-day Adonis, swirling amber liquid in a crystal glass.
"My apologies for interrupting, Mr. LeBlanc. I promise not to take up too much of your time," I said, keeping my tone crisp and professional.
As he nodded slightly, I caught a flicker of... something behind that icy facade. Intrigue? Annoyance? Before I could analyze it further, it vanished behind a wall of cool indifference.
His gaze lingered on my borrowed green sweater. Any other day, I'd explain. Today, it beat a soul reaper-shredded, bra-revealing blouse.
He stood up and said something while gesturing at a seat. Between his look, the green sweater and other things, my brain didn't register what he was saying, but I deduced that he invited me in. So I took a step further.
He rounded a desk the size of a 12-seater dining table and pulled the chair out for me. If this was British office etiquette, I didn't know about it. Or it might be just Ciaran's style. It didn't matter. I remained standing.
As he came close, a faint scent hit me. It was like burnt energy, like wildfire in crisp fresh mountain air. It wasn't the appeal of the scent that caught my attention, but its familiarity.
Have we met? No, not a chance. We don't travel in the same circles.
"I'm here about the article," I said, cutting straight to the chase.
Up close, I could see the layers lurking beneath his cold demeanor - intelligence, certainly, but also something deeper. Pain, perhaps? Or secrets? My reporter's nose twitched at the possibility of a story far more complex than I'd initially imagined.
"Which one?" he asked.
His voice hit me like an explosion in my mind. I recognized this voice. I knew this voice. And that was the last realization I'd hoped to have today... | 