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Our silent standoff ended on Christmas Eve when I received an overnight delivery. The heavily duct taped box took a full fifteen minutes to pry open. Inside, there was no note, no card. Just a jewelry box containing a pair of sapphire earrings. Sapphire is my birthstone. Strangely, the box was wrapped deep within the folds of a hooded black sweatshirt.
The thing wasn’t new, and partially faded from being processed through wash cycles. But Micah didn’t send it randomly, or just to give the earrings a cushioned ride. This was the closest he could get to sending a piece of himself. I held the warm fleece to my face, breathing him in as my heart cracked.
He’d put some thought into this wordless message.I’m coming back.
Yes, he’s coming back. I’m just not clear on where we stand when he does.
The first floor is crowded with city officials and various employees going about their business. A few greet me by name. In the two weeks that have gone by since my father’s official inauguration, he hasn’t made much effort to get acquainted with the day to day operations of the city, choosing to delegate his tasks every chance he gets. I’ve heard enough whispers to know that I’m not the only one frustrated by this.
I’m not expecting to hear a dreaded, familiar voice at my back.
“Hello again, Tess.”
Whirling around, I’m ready to go to war. My purse may not look like much of a weapon, but I carry around a lot of baggage and that sucker is heavy.
Pierce Carrington glowers in front of me, not even bothering to hide his malice.
“Find your own way home, you cold blooded little bitch.”
Though I’ve caught glimpses of him since that night, we’ve never been face to face.
I’m not pleased to be blindsided by him here today and I don’t bother to hide it. He breaks into a rubbery smile to show how much he enjoys my discomfort.
But he wouldn’t dare do something crazy here, not in the mayor’s house in front of a crowd of people.
My heart still pounds but the initial fear fades. I sling my purse strap back on my shoulder and give the bastard a charming smile. “How nice to see you up and about. Looks like you’ve recovered from your unfortunate accident. I meant to send a get well card.”
Pierce’s eyes are a strange shade of green. Colored contacts, most likely. To me, the tint adds to his coldblooded serpent vibe, but more than one passing woman gives him a very blatant second look.
He’s inspecting me right now, trying to figure out if his suspicions are true and that his attack had something to do with me.
I’d love to rub the asshole’s face in it, tell him he got what he got exactly what he deserved. But Micah’s words of caution come back to haunt me. He warned me against provoking an enemy I can’t beat.
Instead of taunting Pierce Carrington, I hold my tongue and take Micah’s advice.
I sure wish he was here beside me right now.
This is not a new feeling. I always wish for Micah, no matter where I am and what I’m doing.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” I say to Pierce. “I’m on my way to see the mayor.”
I turn my back before he has a chance to respond. Yet I don’t really exhale properly until I’m safely closed in the elevator.
Pierce Carrington is a weasel, but a dangerous one. I’ll see what I can do about getting him banned from the Green Mansion. He doesn’t belong here.
The mayor’s official office is on the top floor, removed from the constant racket down below. On the short elevator ride up, I chew a peppermint and wish I’d grabbed a latte while I was out and about. Just being inside this building makes me want to take a nap. Somewhere far away.
The top floor is a hushed crypt compared to the ground floor bedlam. I have an office here, at the other end from the corner occupied by my father. Yet I try to find reasons not to stick around for longer than the bare minimum.
I do have some company on my walk down the long corridor. The oil painted faces of Emerald City mayors from days gone by glower from both sides. An unattractive bunch, if I’m being honest.
Up ahead, hinges squeal and laughter echoes. The door to my father’s office cracks open and a woman steps out. She’s distracted, fixing the top button on her blouse. Then she wipes her mouth with the back of her manicured hand.
Gross.
She takes two wobbly steps before freezing at the sight of me. “Oh. Tess.” Her expression is instantly revised, showcasing a collagen-enhanced camera ready smile that doesn’t reach her icy eyes.
“Helena.” I’m sure my disgust filters through my tone.
