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Something clicked. Her careful reaction gave way to astonishment.
“Are you talking about Edmund Wilder?”
“You know him?”
“I know of him…or at least, his relation to you.” And it made it easier to understand why he wouldn’t want to return the favor himself.
“It’s not like that.”
Alexa peered at him. “So, he’s not your current fiancé’s ex-fiancé? The vampire noble blood who was supposed to marry your vampire noble blood mate before you stole her away from him?”
Billy scowled. “I told you it’s not like that. They weren’t in love and were going to marry for the wrong reasons. And we are not enemies. We are on okay terms.”
“So, why do you need a stand-in?”
“Busy with the brewery,” he said promptly, then gave her a sheepish look. “Also, can you imagine me posing for that guy for who knows how long? There’s bound to be a conversation involving Iz, and I prefer to avoid that.”
“Right. The ex discussion.”
“I will pay you every month. It’s like a regular job of me sending a messenger and paying for that messenger’s services. The only reason I chose you was that…well, you know.”
At that, she glanced away and pretended to be busy with the cash register. “I haven’t delved into art in a while.”
“I’m sure you still doodle and sketch and…you don’t,” he surmised, reading her expression. He sucked in a breath. “You mean you haven’t done a thing? Not since—”
“I was duped,” she said matter-of-factly. “Because I was young and stupid enough to think it was love when the guy just wanted to fuck.”
The prick was mild, honed over the years to be forgotten. But the memory was sometimes as clear as day, of a time when a boy’s promises of mating and declarations of love turned into his ghosting her while her belly grew by the day, heartbroken but with the will to live. Then she had Archie, and that will to live turned into her armor, ignoring half of her clan’s judgment while the other half protected her.
“Oh, Alexa…”
“It’s no big deal.” She shrugged. “I have to provide for Archie and I don’t want to rely on the clan—something you can relate to. So, I don’t have time for art.”
“Right.” He sighed, perhaps recalling his debt and how he had avoided asking help from the clan, too. “Angelo…”
“Our cousin will move heaven and earth to give us what we need,” she said without hesitation. “And he’s already doing more than enough as our clan leader.”
Billy nodded in agreement and mulled over it. Then he brightened. “Then mine’s the perfect solution. You get me out of an awkward situation and get to provide for Archie in turn.”
“Billy…”
“Or you can stay in that laundry shop and deal with that Patty chick all day long. Day in and day out. Unable to say a thing because it’s your job….”
Oh, the man knew how to get to her. She inwardly groaned and outwardly glared. Then Alexa sighed.
“I will do it for free.”
“Messenger, remember?” he shot back, glee returning. “Messenger rates.”
“Fine. Let’s discuss messenger rates after that customer gets her order and I get my first break.”
This had to be the wrong address. She read it twice, found herself in the spot, and ogled the dimly-lit warehouse in front of her. Warehouses in New York City meant either of two things: a territorial asset of a powerful supernatural creature or an abandoned place where they lurked. Neither sounded appealing, and she questioned the venue before she took in the note scribbled at the bottom of the map that Billy gave to her.
Go to the back. There are no guards since they own this property. There’s a row of boxes stacked neatly. Go to the middle one and push it. Then just follow the directions.
She did as was noted, counted the boxes, and pushed the center one. It moved more smoothly than anticipated and had her blinking at the dark space that led to an unknown place. Nerves set in, aware that some horror stories started this way. But she squared her shoulders and sucked in her stomach, confident that Billy wouldn’t lead her on a wild goose chase.
The descent was filled with nerves, more so when the secret doorway closed after her and left her no choice but to keep going. When she reached the landing, surprise coursed through her at the sight of an underground home, rather than a cave, cozy with expensive-looking furniture, smoothened walls, and chandeliers on ceilings competing with the ceiling coves in between stalactites. Everything that could glitter did glitter, from the crystals and vases on display to the stalagmites decorated with…glitter.
