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And still, when Harrison opened his mouth and spoke the words, they were like a physical punch to the gut. “Fine. We’ll do this your way. Congratulations. You, Cyrus Banks, are the new Master of the United States Libra Guild.”
ChapterEleven
Why hadn’t he texted?
Glaring at her phone for the hundredth time that morning, Mina opened her messages, just to double check she hadn’t missed a notification somehow. But no, there was her “Good Morning!” in its happy little blue bubble, mocking her with its solitude.
Well, that was just fine. If he wanted to pretend like the past few days didn’t mean anything to him, she could play that game.
And when her phone did finally ding with a notification, not from him, but from her source at the courthouse letting her know the jury had reached a verdict, she did a quick check of her makeup and put on her best poker face. There was no way in hell she was going to let him see her as anything other than her usual, professional self.
But her mask began to crack when the jury filed in and Cyrus was nowhere to be found. Pierce and Merrick were seated at their table, their heads swiveling around as they scanned the courtroom. Concern wormed its way past the hurt and annoyance she’d been carrying with her all morning.
Maybe he was a playboy asshole who had no problem ghosting the woman he’d just spent the night fucking to oblivion, but he would never miss the verdict unless something was very, very wrong.
Professionalism warred with her need to make sure he was okay. Splitting the difference, she pulled out her phone and shot off another text message.
Where are you???? Verdict being read NOW.
She kept her phone on her lap, her nails nervously tapping at the side of the case as the judge asked the foreman for their verdict.
Where the fuck was Cyrus?
* * *
“There must be some mistake.”Even to his own ears, his protests sounded weak and unconvincing. “I can’t possibly be the new Master.”
“I can assure you, there is no mistake.”
“Well, then, pick someone else.” Panic was slowly winding its sinister tentacles around his chest, tightening with every breath he took. “Can’t I pass it on or something?”
“Ah, I’m afraid not. The rules of our Guild state the new Master must be in the position for at least a year before the role can be passed on. A couple centuries back, it was like playing hot potato when a new Master was chosen, so the rule was put into place to minimize the chaos that comes with the passing of the torch.”
Right. He vaguely remembered hearing something along those lines years ago. “How do you know, for certain?”
“I’ll show you.” Turning away once more, Harrison continued down the hall. Offices lined the way on either side, the names and titles of the various committee members etched into the gold plates on the doors. At this early hour, all the offices were empty, it seemed.
At the end of the hall was a wall of glass, showcasing another office. Althoughofficefelt far too plain a word to describe the rich elegance behind the glass.
And there, etched into the golden plaque, was his name.
“Am I supposed to be impressed?” he asked when it became apparent they’d reached their destination. “Anyone can have a name plaque made up.”
With a withering look for Cyrus, Harrison opened the door to the office and led him inside. “Nobody had the plaque ‘made up’. The same one has been there since the building was erected, and the name changes with each new leader of the Guild.”
Cyrus snorted in disbelief. “You really expect me to believe the Guild masters are chosen by a magical golden plaque?”
“This would go so much smoother if you would just accept your destiny.”
“I would be happy to accept the position if it was mine to accept.”
“Well, there is one final step.” Crossing the room, Harrison picked up a set of golden scales, almost identical to the ones held by Lady Justice on the courthouse steps. “If we are somehow mistaken, nothing will happen when you hold the scales.”
“And if you’re right?”
“You’ll see.”
Those tendrils of panic tightened even further as Cyrus forced his feet forward. As he reached for the scales, the world around him seemed to fade, the sound of Mark’s voice becoming muffled as though he was underwater. The only clear sound was that of his heartbeat, roaring in his ears as he gripped the slender golden rod from which the two baskets were suspended.
