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hands as he tapped his fingers against different elements of the card.

“I was specifically tasked with constructing a detailed interpretation of each card, differentiating the variances between common interpretations of similar decks and anything standing out on these cards that were different.” She peered up at him and took the glazed look on his face to mean he was bored with her speech, probably already tuning her out. She needed to switch tracks or he was going to throw her out before she could even get to the unusual details leading her to him and his family estate.

“Mr. Scott.” She waited for him to raise his eyes to meet hers. She needed his full attention. “The specific card you have in your hand, the Ten of Pentacles, has led me to your doorstep. After months of research a simple Boolean search revealed that parts of that card are part of the Scott family crest and have been for centuries.”

“Yes, Ms. Gallagher, that’s true. But hardly a revelation. It's not a secret that during the Victorian occult revival certain members of our family were a little too deeply involved and developed our family crest based on this card. In fact, it was shortly thereafter the matriarch of the family was beheaded for her involvement. Despite her apparent lack of judgment at the time, her husband chose to honor her memory by keeping the new crest. All of which is public record for the research inclined.” His voice lacked the enthusiasm she had hoped for as she grappled with the information he shared.

He strode across the room towards his desk, distracting her from her thoughts and giving Rena a moment to appreciate the movement of his lithe body in his black fitted slacks and black silk shirt. She imagined the powerful muscles of his legs that would flex under her touch. He sat in the leather seat behind his desk and leaned forward, while looking at her intently. He motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk.

“The more important question at the moment, Ms. Gallagher, is how did these cards come to be in your possession?” He indicated the card with a slight wave of his hand. “Eighteen months ago these cards were stolen from our family safe right here in this house.”

The impact of his statement was like a sucker punch to the gut, nearly collapsing her into the chair. As her knees buckled she gripped the arm of the chair to steady herself.

“Stolen?” She studied his face as he watched her, but there were no telltale signs of deceit. Oh God he was telling the truth. He leaned forward on his elbows and lifted his head as if he might whisper a secret to her.

“That's right, Ms. Gallagher, and it's damn odd you showing up here out of the blue with the most important card in the deck.” His words were as cool and clear as ice water. Shocked by the insinuation, she clenched her jaw, struggling to bite her tongue and not fly off the handle with words she would later regret. She couldn't afford to get kicked out of his mansion before she even got to the real crux of her late night unexpected visit.

“Mr. Scott, surely you don't mean to imply that I stole these cards?”

He arched his brow at her statement.

“As I told you I was commissioned to study the hidden meanings in these cards, and the card you have there, your family crest, has taunted me for months now.” She eased back into the chair, taking deep breaths to release the tension that had built over the last few minutes. The situation was spiraling out of her control and she didn’t like it one bit.

“And who, pray tell, hired you to study these stolen cards, Ms. Gallagher?” Rena shivered as his sarcasm snaked along her spine with every syllable. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair as she struggled to remain composed. So much for those anger management classes.

“I'm not privy to divulge that information. The benefactor wishes to remain anonymous.”

“Convenient, wouldn't you say?” he retorted.

This conversation was getting away from her, and she needed to get it back on track. She needed him to focus on what she had to tell him, not the actual location of the cards or why she studied them.

“Mr. Scott, please. I wasn't aware of any issues with these cards being in my possession, and if you have proof of ownership I’m sure that matter can be resolved. However, that's obviously not the reason I’ve come all this way. I'm here because of what I discovered in these cards.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out the black velvet sack that contained the rest of the tarot deck. She moved a few items on his desk to clear an area for her to work and immediately began a detailed layout with some of the cards.

Grae eased back in his chair, watching this stranger and her delicate hands finger the cards one by one as she arranged a Celtic Cross layout on his desk. Her nails were clipped short and free of fancy polish, but the shape of her fingers and their graceful movements lured him into watching her every move. He had to fight an inexplicable urge to cover her hands with his own.

“Mr. Scott—” Dragging his gaze back to her face, her eyes shone with purpose.

“Please, call me Graelen.”

“Fine, Graelen, this arrangement is called a Celtic Cross layout.”

He compressed his lips to keep his amusement inside so as not to insult this unusual woman who mistakenly thought he needed a Tarot lesson. She continued on to explain the traditional meaning and placement of each card. She seemed very thorough, if a bit mechanical, in her Tarot knowledge.

“I didn't find a lot of differences until I got to this card, the Ten of Pentacles.” Her hand shook as she placed it down on the desk in the final slot of the

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