Read The Hunter (Orion the Hunter) for Free Online Page B

the bouquet.  My heart lurched and I almost dropped the flowers when I read the neat, bold handwriting.  It was addressed to Isobella. 
     
    Nobody called me that, not since … I never used my full given name, it was always Issy.  The only references to that name were on my birth certificate, driver’s license and passport. 
     
    I put down the bouquet and took a deep breath.  As I slowly expelled the air from my lungs, I reached forward and picked up the envelope.  With shaking hands, I opened it and withdrew the card.  It read … Congratulations Isobella.  P.S. I enjoyed watching your secret celebration.
     
    “What the …” I said aloud.  My mind raced until it settled upon the embarrassing memory of my dream last night.  “Secret celebration …oh, god.  This is Travis’ idea of a joke.”
     
    Thrusting the card into my bag and grabbing the flowers, I turned to leave.  I had my hand on the door handle when it occurred to me to wonder how Travis would have managed to get into the building unseen.  And how would he unlock my door?  The flowers were also undoubtedly expensive - that didn’t sound like Travis at all.  Did he know my real name?  I doubted that he did.
     
    Sighing that the mystery was still unsolved after all, I stepped out into the corridor.  I was just about to put my key in the lock when I recalled a voice so deep and sexy that it was almost a growl.  “It’s the master key,” it said.  I froze as the visual memory popped into my head.  He unlocked my door with the master key.  He has access to my office! If he has a master key, he must work in the building.
     
    I forced my fingers to function and locked the door then I raced down the corridor, past the elevator and dashed down the stairwell, ignoring the continued protests of my feet.  No way could I face getting in the elevator.
     
    I had intended to dash straight home but as I neared the revolving door, the guard stepped out from behind his desk and stood directly in my path.
     
    “Wow, they are beautiful.  My wife would love them.  Did you find out where they were from?” he asked innocently.
     
    “No such luck,” I forced myself to speak.  I was just about to sidestep past him when an idea formed in my mind.  “What is your name?” I asked him sweetly.
     
    “Clark.  William Clark,” he said, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
     
    “Nice to meet you, Mr Clark,” I grinned.  “I hate being new.  There are so many people in this building and I am terrible at remembering names.”
     
    “Oh, tell me about it,” he replied.  “That’s one of the reasons why I would hate to move on from here.”
     
    “There’s someone whose name I can’t remember and I have seen him a couple of times this week and it is embarrassing.  I must learn his name.”  I said, carefully.
     
    “Do you know which company he works for or which floor he is on?  Can you describe him?  I can try to help you put a name to the face if you like,” Clark said, as I’d hoped he would.
     
    “No, I don’t know which company or which floor but I saw him near to my office on the 4 th floor and again in the elevator when I came down from the 15 th floor to mine,” I said eagerly.  “He has very dark brown hair that is almost black.  His eyes are deep blue …” I paused, searching for more descriptive words that I could utter aloud, as Clarke shook his head, looking blank.  “Oh and he was dressed all in black both times and his voice was very, very deep.”
     
    Clark’s eyes fixed on mine and his mouth opened then closed again.  He shook his head slightly, obviously changing his mind about what he’d been about to say.
     
    “What were you going to say?” I asked him sweetly.  “Do you know who he is?”
     
    “No, sorry.  The description matches someone but it wouldn’t have been him on your floor or in the elevator,” he said.
     
    “Oh, who were you thinking of?  Elvis Presley?” I