Read INVISIBLE POWER BOOK TWO: ALEX NOZIAK (INVISIBLE RECRUITS) for Free Online Page B

in the city, but one that, because of its alignment with the Louvre and l”Arc de Triomphe , thumbed its nose at the older, stubbier landmarks around it.
    The three wings created a whirling, spinning wheel effect, reflecting the mid-morning light in all directions. It was enough to make me dizzy.
    But if that’s where Bran was, that’s where I had to go.
    As I shouldered past dark-suited men and women who looked down their noses at my jeans and sweatshirt garb, I wondered how they survived in this cold stone and steel city. The only trees around were lined up soldier-straight along the boulevards or regimented in contained parks. You couldn’t even hear bird song over the surging traffic everywhere. The only wildlife were pigeons, and even they seemed to blend into the grays, whites and pale stone colors everywhere.
    As I swung through the revolving door into a marble and glass foyer I admitted a wobbly smile. I was mentally bitching at the city when my real target was Bran. He belonged here and I didn’t. It was as simple as that.
    Taking me away from my Mud Lake, Idaho roots was one thing. But facing a man as powerful and arrogant as Bran in a place that suited him to a T, only threw up our differences more, made my stomach knot and my hands grow clammy.
    Sure he’d said I was a stronger a witch than I believed was, but that had been at a time we were still on speaking terms. Before I’d managed to get his cousin killed. Besides, strong witches could control their abilities. My gifts were hit or miss and that wasn’t good.
    “Crap,” I mumbled under my breath, wondering how the hell I found the CEO of Bran Inc. in a place this large with only enough French phrases to order breakfast and find a bathroom. And I had trouble with that.
    Looking around I spied a half-moon desk with several young, snooty looking types behind it, acting busy and important, but at least they answed the questions of people who approached them. Either that or telling everyone to go to hell with tight smiles.
    But I’d been born a Noziak, which meant being willing to face danger head on instead of crawling away, no matter how much the latter sounded like a great idea. What could a few suits do to me?
    Using hand gestures that made me look like a windmill run amok I spoke to the first woman who was free behind the desk. “ Ou is Senor …” Damn that wasn’t right. “Bran.” I made a tall height gesture with my hands. “You know? Big mucky muck. Clothes?” This time I used both hands to indicate an hourglass figure, which caught the attention and earned humma-humma smiles from the nearest males on both sides of the desk.
    Get real.
    I could feel my face heating. “Bran?” I raised my voice, feeling like every stereotype of a stupid tourist who used volume over language skills. “Monseigneur Bran. Dove?”   That was the French word for where, wasn’t it?
    Behind the desk the woman’s nose pinched tighter, her smile so thin-lipped she was going to cut herself.
    Hell, if I couldn’t even find him how was I going to ream him a good one? Extra for putting me through this exercise in patience. Not my strong suit.
    Blowing out a puff of air, I glanced around before trying a different approach. “Does anyone here speak English?” I asked, throwing up my arms.
    “Of course,” came the snippy reply from the woman whose look said so much more, and none of it flattering.
    Bite me.
    I was tempted to reach across the counter and curl my hands along the woman’s precise navy-colored suit lapels and shake her a good one. Probably not the best move for American-French relations. So uncurling my fingers one at a time and pasting on a smile that said WTF loud and clear in several languages I asked, “Then how do I find him?”
    “Fiftieth floor,” came the snippy response.
    Of course. Not the penthouse but damn near. Why hadn’t I thought of that. A quick look around had me pausing again, turning back to the woman, already ignoring me