Scarlet Assassin by Isabella Page A

stain.
    “Here, let me help you. Is that club soda” Francesca pointed to the bottle on the counter.
    “Yeah, Jax said it would get this wine stain out.”
    “Kinda messy are ya?”
    “Actually, your friend did this.”
    “Oh, sorry. She can be a little wild when she’s had too much to drink.”
    “A little?”
    “Okay, a lot.” Francesca knew there would be a story behind this stain. There always was when it came to Dorothy. Without thinking, Francesca reached her hand under Selene’s blouse cupping the stain.
    “Hand me that bottle.” she said nodding at it.
    “I can do this,” Selene seemed uncomfortable.
    Francesca’s finger brushed against the pale skin that was in direction contrast with Selene’s dark eyes, and straight, shiny hair, so black the tinted highlights glinted blue in the light. She fumbled with the club soda, and the spill soaked through Selene’s blouse, revealing the outline of a dark nipple through the now sheer material that lay on Selene’s bare breast.
    Selene sucked in a deep breath. “Oh that’s cold.”
    “Oh sorry, sorry.” Francesca grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at the wet spot over the erect nipple.
    Selene stopped her. “Here, I’ll get that.”
    “Of course, sorry.”
    “It’s not your fault.”
    “Are you okay?”
    A hand on her arm pulled Francesca from her daydream and back to the present.
    “I’m sorry?” Francesca blushed at the touch from the club owner.
    “I said, are you okay?” Selene removed her hand. “Would you like me to call one of your friends over? Do you need to sit down?”
    “Huh? No, no I’m fine. I was just lost in thought I guess. I’m sorry for what happened back at the table. Dorothy has boundary issues, and the other ladies…well I guess doing research for a living doesn’t make for great social skills.”
    “I noticed, but you seem to be able to handle yourself.” Selene smiled.
    A jolt speared right through Francesca in response; a twinge of guilt she was sure.
    “Oh, well…I’m…I mean…I get out…uh, I don’t get out…out, but I do seem to be able to keep myself from looking like an ass, luckily.” She looked down at her shoes. Now she was a blubbering idiot, but at least she wasn’t still staring at the club owner’s chest anymore. It wasn’t her fault, they were eye level…besides…oh it didn’t matter. She was way out of Francesca’s league. Tall, dark and gorgeous never went for pale, short and shapely.
    “Well, I have to get back to work. It was nice to meet you…” Selene offered her hand.
    “Oh right, sorry. Francesca. Remember, I told you out there?” Now she was sure the woman was out of her league, not a second thought.
    “I thought you said people called you Francesca?”
    “They do, I mean some people do, mostly the people I work with do, but…” shut up . “Francesca’s fine.”
    With that, she turned on her heel and dashed from the restroom leaving Selene behind shaking her head.

 
    Chapter Eight
     
    The folded parchment sat dead center of her desk. The red wax seal, denoted it was from someone in the coven or at least someone affiliated with the coven. Selene sat down in her leather chair, steepled her fingers and ran her lips back and forth over the tips.
    Studying the paper, she knew that whoever wrote the letter was making a request. She wondered if the person writing knew the price they would have to pay for her services? More often than not, money wasn’t the issue. The issue was usually the who .
    Picking up the letter she studied the seal. Typical shield with a hand thrusting a sword upwards, denoted a Scottish clan. She hadn’t heard from the Scots in decades. There were few in their ranks, but those few in the coven considered themselves a long line of warriors and handled their own family business.
    Breaking the wax seal in half, the rush of cologne and sweat pulled at her nostrils as she unfolded the parchment. Damn men , she thought, can’t they do anything in