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He smiles at me, his eyes sparkling. Despite this, he remains patient and pushes a few roasted tomatoes across the plate. Toward me. “You didn’t. There were several people at that party who hate your guts.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head. “Several. Kallista, I am very, very good at my job. But you have to let me do it. Let me run some interference for you. I’m your teammate, now. So, if there’s someone there you’d rather avoid, let me help you avoid them.”
My eyebrows lift into my hairline. Then I pick up a fork and stab one of the tomatoes with it. One of the corners of his mouth tugs upward slightly as he watches me devour the little tomato. At least, I think it’s a tomato. It pops in my mouth just like a tomato, but the flavor is … much, much sweeter than any Terran tomato I’ve ever tasted. Like a cherry and a raspberry had a secret lovechild or something. It’s delicious.
A small moan escapes my lips as I stab another tomato, then another. His throat bobs, and I notice a faint pink tinge spread across his cheeks and nose. Right. I probably shouldn’t make pornographic sounds when I’m eating, but I can’t help it. I’ve never had anything so delicious before.
“They’re Oozoo berries. From … Oozoo,” he says, then laughs as he shakes his head. “I know. They’re tasty. Also expensive to import anywhere.”
“So, are you really into sports or something?” I ask as I search the plate for more berries.
“What? Why do you say that?”
“All the sports analogies there. The whole ‘we’re teammates, let me run interference for you’ stuff. You like sports?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I notice he’s biting the inside of his cheek again. Xavian has a few tells of his own. I wonder if he even realizes it? But instead of ruining the moment with more teasing, I watch him look pensively out the window.
“I guess you could say that,” he murmurs.
I lean back in my seat. “Let’s get back on topic. You brought me here for a reason, I take it? Not for chitchat.”
Xavian nods. “Now I know you can’t swim. I want a run down of anything else that might affect my ability to protect you. Anything at all.”
Hoo boy. We’re going to be here a while. Better order another weird charcuterie board.
12XAVIAN
Before I know it, my first week on the job slips by without incident.
Sure, there have been some annoying clusterfucks with fans on the street getting a little too handsy. And then there were those pap drones that buzzed around during Kal’s three-hour-long dinner date with some doofus whose name I can’t remember. But tonight is different. Tonight, she’s got a private event on Nocturne.
Nocturne, asteroid-turned-club, favored by the rich, famous, and depraved. The T’Jali clan loves to skulk around on that rock, which is why Aiken and I always avoided going there unless it was absolutely necessary. If a mark went to Nocturne, it was game over. We didn’t bother.
And now the pop princess of the universe herself has a gig there. I could kill Kal’s agent for setting that one up, so it’s a good thing I haven’t met the guy yet.
Kallista’s ensemble this evening leaves very little to the imagination: a short, glittery gold dress that ends at her upper thigh and plunges in the front; her Weave gives her matching gold eyes and bronzed skin that makes her look like a radiant goddess; and her hair curls in long blond ribbons down her shoulders.
When we step out of the elevator, I notice her fidgeting with the hem of her dress. She’s nervous. Yeah. She should be.
“You look nice,” I say as we step into the lobby.
Kallista doesn’t even bother to look up at me. Fine. Let her be that way. The last we’d spoken to one another was in the café. The rest of the time? Silent treatment. I think the headlines have been really bothering her lately. The media is run by such assholes. Whenever we played badly during a game, we’d end up lambasted by sports commentators, armchair Terraball experts, and influencers. Sometimes they were easy enough to ignore, but every so often one of my teammates would get so psyched out we’d have to bench him for a couple games. Kallista’s worry lines on her face make me think of those times, and I desperately want to comfort her. Say something, anything. But I’m not being paid to keep her company. I’m here to keep her safe.
Not sure how well that’s going to play out on Nocturne, though.
I lead her briskly through the lobby with Margot nipping at our heels. A few hotel guests perk up and murmur to one another as we pass. Others take photos. Margot waves to everyone like she’s the one they’re all here for. I keep my hand on the small of Kallista’s back, guiding her until we reach our windjammer. Once we’re inside the car, everyone, including myself, inhales sharply all at once.
“There are a few things you two should know about Nocturne,” I say quickly before Margot can take control of the conversation.
Margot lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything as she waits for me to continue. Kallista busies herself with staring at her nails.
“First of all, this place is crawling—and I do mean crawling—with criminals. I don’t know why your agent agreed to this,” I add, grinding my back teeth.
Margot waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t be such an alarmist. Luthor wouldn’t have signed Kallista up for this if she were in any danger. Some high-ranking official is paying her ten million credits for two hours.”
Kallista finally perks up at the mention of credits.
My eyes roll back into my head as I dig my fingernails into the leather seats. “Fuck’s sake. It has to be the general,” I mutter under my breath.
