Kane’s POV
Brandy is wound tighter than a damn spring, I’m not sure if she wants to puke or run, maybe both. She’s lost in her head, so much so that she doesn’t even flinch as I slowly rise to my feet and take the two steps to stand in front of her.
I study her for a second, in her professional slacks and cream button down shirt, she hardly screams seductress. She looks more line an early thirties librarian that wants you to back the f.uck away from her treasured bookshelves, and not touch any of the dusty tombs that she has carefully filed away.
‘Bran?’ the sound of her name seems to startle her, Brandy jumping slightly as her eyes find me, widening slightly as she finds me in front of.
I hold out a hand toward her, waiting patiently as her gaze flicks down to it and back to me before
