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“Ugh.” He rolled his eyes, then glamored himself with a wave of his hand, so now he was even more plain, in black pants, a white shirt, and plain shoes. More like an office worker . . . who’d just walked off the pages off a modeling website. “I feel dirty. Not the fun kinda dirty. How do you live like this?”
“You look good.”
“I’m boring,” he drawled, glaring. “No wonder you like it.”
“You’re not boring.” It was impossible for Zee to ever be boring.
“I’m so dull.” He huffed, then brightened. “But it’s my birthday, so whatever. I have totally got this. I will fucking own dull and dreary and make up for it later by wearing a rainbow feather boa, a hat, and suspenders. And nothing else. Pfft.”
“That’s the spirit. Now, let’s go find our vampire daddy.” And hope this was all just some unfortunate misunderstanding.
Stepping into the foyer revealed that the Reynard Technologies fountain had experienced the same treatment as the sign, with the enormous focal point of its entwined RT having been replaced by a stainless-steel GC twice as high as me. If this was a misunderstanding, then it was a thorough one.
Zee strode toward the front desk with purpose. He flicked a wrist, produced a pair of office siren glasses, and popped them on his nose. Of course, they only made him look even more gorgeous. “Excuse me, lady, I’m here for my ten o’clock appointment with Lord Victor Reynard.”
The perky receptionist’s fine-lined eyebrow shot up. “And you are?”
“Mr. Lycian.” Zee clicked his fingers. “Hurry it along, I do not have all day.”
“Alright, Mr. Lycian. Please take a seat and I’ll see if Mr. Reynard is available.”
I scooted over to the seats, where I sat beside Zee and whispered, “What are you doing?”
“Role play.” He flashed a grin, then hooked his glasses under a finger and peered over their rim. “How do you like Office Zee? Am I hot?”
“You’re always hot.” But watching him get his boss vibes on had quickened my heart, which he’d sense.
He laughed. “Kitten, you have a power-twink kink and it’s gorgeous. Don’t ever fuckin’ change.”
“Adam Vex.” A stern female voice rang out. Everyone in the foyer turned toward the middle-aged, white-haired, slightly domineering personal assistant making a beeline toward me.
“Oh, hello Joyce.” I stood and smiled, hoping we’d get along better this time around than the last time. That hope soon died under Joyce’s withering glare. “Uh . . . Is Victor here? It’s just, he’s not answering his phone, and we really need—”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure it’s very important, as everything is with you, Mr. Vex. But Mr. Reynard has appointments all day. If you want to meet with him, I suggest you call later and book a future date. Far, far in the future.”
“Can’t I just see him for five minutes?”
Joyce sighed. “No.”
“Hey lady. Eat a bag of dicks,” Zee said beside me. “Or tell Victor we’re here. He’ll want to see us.”
Joyce’s mouth pinched as though she’d swallowed a wasp. “I have, and he doesn’t. Good day to you.” She turned on her heel and clip-clopped back across the foyer.
“Oh well, I guess we’ll wait until he leaves work?”
“Yeah, we could do that, except . . .” Zee’s shrewd gaze scanned the people in the shiny foyer. Some chatted around comfy chairs. Others strode back and forth from the elevators. “Something isn’t right, and it’s not just the enormous Gideon Cain big-dick-energy fountain. There’s a spicy zing of fear in the air and it’s making my wings itch.”
Everything looked normal, besides the branding. But I couldn’t sense emotions like he could.
“Do you know how to get to Victor’s office?” he asked, his tone turning serious.
“Yeah, but we’d need a card or visitors badge to work the elevator.”
Zee slid his glasses back up his nose. “Wait here, babycakes. I have a plan.” He strutted off toward the front desk again.
Oh my stars, what was he going to do?
CHAPTER 3
