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He opened another door and we entered a small parking area that housed half a dozen short-hop vertical takeoff and landing vehicles—or VTOLs, as they were more commonly known. He waved a hand to the small red one. “Your chariot awaits, dear Tig.”
So I wasn’t mistaken. It was him. His silvery gaze, when it met mine again, was as filled with wonder and disbelief as mine had to be.
“Sal?” I whispered, still fearing to believe, despite everything my senses and my memory were telling me.
“Yes, and I have to tell you, I’m finding it just as difficult to believe it’s actually you. That disguise of yours is rather repellant.”
I smiled. “So how did you know it was me?”
“Because I would know your scent anywhere, even after all these years.” He briefly touched my face, something close to wonder in his. “It is so good to see you again.”
“But how did you surv—”
He placed a finger against my lips, stopping my question. “I’ll explain later. For now, get in, as we’re not safe from the ranger’s pursuit just yet.”
I climbed inside the small two-seater. He jumped into the driver’s seat and, with little ceremony, secured the canopy and started the VTOL’s engines. Dust whipped around us as the vehicle rose. Then Sal pressed the steering stick forward and the craft shot out of the parking lot and into the bright light of day. I gripped the side of my seat somewhat fiercely and resisted the urge to look down. It had been a long time since I’d been in a VTOL—and I’d never been overly keen on them in the first place. I’d always been of the belief that if I’d been meant to fly, I would have been designed with wings.
Thankfully, sho
rt-hops were designed for just that. Sal steered the VTOL into another midbuilding parking lot, then stopped.
“And that,” he said, opening the canopy, “should be the end of the ranger following you. However, we’ll still head somewhere he cannot go, just to be sure.” His gaze met mine. “Then, dear Tig, you can tell me why it’s taken you so long to arrive in Central.”
Meaning he’d been here all the time? Surely not. Surely the goddess would not have been so cruel as to put us so close to each other and yet never allow our paths to cross.
But I nodded and followed him back down to Victory Street. He caught my hand again, guiding me across the road to the building that was all glass and delicate steel. Given its proximity to both Central Park and Government House, even the bathroom in this place would come with a very high price tag. It certainly wasn’t the sort of building where the likes of me would be welcome.
“I’m not sure I’m exactly dressed—”
“Actually, you’re probably overdressed, given Hedone is, at its core, a very high-end brothel.” Amusement touched his lips as he opened the ornate glass-and-metal door, and waved me through. “Please, inside, so that our scent doesn’t linger.”
“You work in a brothel?” I asked, though it wasn’t entirely surprising. Assassins, like lures, had been designed to be sexually attractive to shifters, even though seduction wasn’t often on their agenda. If Hedone catered to shifters, he’d be in high demand.
“No,” he said, the amusement sharper. “I own it.”
My gaze shot to his. “You own it?”
“Let’s just say I have made the most of my escape from near death.” He caught my hand again and led me through a foyer that was crisp and white. Sofas and comfortable chairs filled the huge expanse, most of them occupied by men and women as crisp and white as their surroundings. Some were sipping champagne, some were eating canapés, and others were flicking through electronic catalogues, no doubt trying to decide who might be the morning’s entertainment.
A petite blond woman looked up from the large white desk that dominated one wall of the foyer, a smile touching her perfectly painted silver lips as we approached. “Mr. Casimir, I wasn’t expecting to see you again this morning. Is there a problem?”
“No,” he said evenly. “But I have a meeting at six, so could you give me a call at five thirty? We’ll be in my private suite.”
“Not a problem, sir.” The woman’s gaze flickered to me, her curiosity evident. But she didn’t question my presence, and Sal made no move to explain it.
We walked into a lift that was all glass. Sal pressed his thumb against the scanner, then said, “Tenth floor.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Just how many floors do you own in this building?”
He caught my hands in his and stared at me for several seconds, as if he still couldn’t believe his eyes. “Just ten,” he said eventually. “Although I am planning to buy more in the next few years.”
I laughed softly and shook my head. “Only ten? Good grief, Sal, real estate in this part of town is worth a fortune. How on earth have you managed to buy ten floors?”
“It’s not hard to do when you’re as good at seduction as I am.” It was immodestly said and actually quite true. He’d certainly practiced his seduction techniques on me often enough, both when I’d been assigned to teach him such things, and later, in the few times we’d met out in the field. “And I’ve had a hundred years to gather a fortune.”
In a hundred years, I’d barely dared to venture outside my bunker. I stepped closer and gently traced the outline of his luscious lips with a finger. “How did you survive the cleansing?” I asked softly. “I thought I was the only one.”
“So did I, for a very long time.” He pressed a kiss against my fingertip. Desire surged between us, familiar and fiery. “You have no idea how glad I am to discover that you survived.”
