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“She did. Didn’t stop them from letting that law pass though.” Her brow puckered. “How can Kuznetsov sit there, so high and mighty, when all this shit is happening in our society and he could help but doesn’t?”
“Maybe they’re not as powerful as they want us to think. We only have it on their word that they are.”
She shook her head. “No. I know they’re powerful. It’s why I targeted them in the first place. But I guess there’s power and there’spower.”
Because I didn’t want to think about her seducing Kuznetsov, I changed the subject. “Aren’t you friendly with Minerva and Ovianar anymore?”
“What makes you ask that?”
“You seem sad when you talk about them.”
“We couldn’t agree on how to take the group forward. I dumped BDSec on their laps and we haven’t really spoken since.”
“Do you think we’ll need their help?”
“Don’t know. We’ll need Dead To Me though.”
A knock sounded at the door. Before she could, I headed over to it, pulled it open, asking, “Yes?” before I saw that it was Edgar.
“Good evening, sir. I have Madam Sullivan’s personal effects.”
Star jerked up at the news—she was wearing the robe from the bathroom.
That wasn’t distracting.
At all.
Neither was the fact that she’d slept beside me with only my tee and a pair of panties on.
Dead. I was so fucking dead.
“Where did you get all this?” Star cried as Edgar appeared with a few other servers, each loaded down with bags.
Edgar cleared his throat. “I’m not certain if Mr. Kuznetsov would appreciate it if I answered that question, ma’am.”
“Meaning he raided your Airbnb or hotel room,” I drawled, tone cynical even as my heart seemed to twang in my chest as I watched her eyes light up when she uncovered her case and found her phone tucked neatly in one of the pockets.
Edgar shot me a disapproving look, which was fucking hilarious seeing as he didn’t know me and I didn’t know him, but I hid my smile and just watched as the staff faded into the woodwork as they had a habit of doing around here.
I’d think they were half-ghost or they were just terrified of being caught lingering by—
“Stop thinking aboutDownton Abbey.”
Peeved, I folded my arms across my chest. “Who said I was thinking aboutDownton Abbey?”
“I can guarantee it,” was her smug retort as the staff bustled around in her bedroom, swiftly unpacking her two mid-sized cases. “You were thinking about Mr. Carson—”
With a sniff, I countered, “Actually,I was thinking about Mrs. Hughes.”
Her grin was mostly hidden by the cascade of hair that fell over her face as she ducked around, plugging her computer and cellphone in to charge, apparently uncaring that people were touching her stuff.
Although, with her past, maybe she’d grown up being cared for like that.
Da hadn’t believed in any of that bullshit. Ma had run our home and we’d had to keep our rooms neat; the only deference to his status was that he had maids come in and keep everything tidy every other day.
Even then, he hadn’t liked having people rummaging around his stuff.
The memory made my lips curve. Especially when I thought back to the time he’d accused one of the maids of stealing his underwear when it was Eoghan who had taken to using them as flags for the fortress he’d built in our backyard…
