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For all the witches and warlocks above— “What is it?”
“Don’t forget you have a meeting with Charming at 9:30.”
Escaping at last to my office I shut the door behind me and breathe a sigh. That was it. My last straw. Going to my desk I dial James. He answers the phone with a grumble.
“What?” James Atkinson has known me almost my entire life, since before I lined my pockets with Cloverdale gold, before Gallegos, before Rowan. He isn’t exactly Fortuna crowd material, but that is perfectly fine with me since I am not either. He keeps me grounded and sane. He is not only my right hand, but my best friend and confidant. I can trust him with everything.
“This receptionist at the tower. Get fucking rid of her. She’s all over me,” I growl into the phone. The responding cackle tells me everything I needto know. James is still wheezing when I add. “It’s not funny asshole. I think she’s part barracuda.”
“She’s a temp. Relax. The new lady will be there next week,” James’ voice is affable, unruffled. That is another thing I love about James. He never takes offense to my temper. “I thought you’d like her. Give her a ride. She’s beautiful.” He laughs into the phone and now my suspicions are confirmed, he put Neila into the position just to mess with me.
“Are you fucking serious? Another week?” I grumble into the phone. Sighing, “Fine, we’re going to go out of the office, anyway. I know you did it on purpose too, you fucker.” I throw a pencil onto the desk, leaning back in my chair. There’s no heat to my voice though and I have to laugh. James has always loved to yank my chain. “I guess I can take another week. I can just work somewhere else. Anywhere else really,” I say thinking of Neila and her desperate eyes.
“Did you look at the red folder? It’s from Picmond. I told Neila to hand it to you first thing.” James’ voice is now serious as he moves on to business.
“No, not yet. Did you find some shit out about who is interrupting our routes?” I ask, curious. I pull it forward, opening it.
“No, not the routes. Lillian.”
“Lillian? What about her?” We haven’t talked about Lillian for a while. When she gave the reins of the Syndicate to me fully last year, she had asked that she only receive yearly reports. I haven’t heard from her in months, and she always could take care of herself. Honestly, I’d rather not hear from her at all. No news is good news. She is a viper.
“I’d be there in person, to talk to you … but I am going to check up on the credibility of another source. It’s important. Open the file.”
My blood runs cold.Lillian. I know what I’ll find when I open it. Death has come for her then. Lillian was always a complicated person and my feelings towards her had always been conflicted. Lillian had a side to her that wasn’t so kind. She could be temperamental and cruel as well. Vicious when cornered. I had been a wild and wicked thing and she had faith in me, pushed me, told me I could be somethingmore. Lillian had taken from me also, stole a future from me that I thought I might have with Red. However, she was Syndicate, and that was all that mattered in this moment.
“Is this everything you have on it?” I ask, willing myself not to ask about Red.
“Yes,” James answers. “Pretty sure it was a hit. Authorities say that it was a rogue wolf, but you and I know that is probably bullshit. The news about it just came across the wires so they know little.” There’s a heavy pause. “Riven, you know that the increased violence at the warehouses and now this is probably all connected.” He knows he doesn’t need to continue the train of thought. I can connect the dots on my own. My mind is already racing forward.
I can’t disagree with him. There is someone out there pushing the boundaries, trying to get my attention. The file is obviously thorough, as expected. I pause over each photo to examine them, my fingers sliding over the crime scene photos.
My breath hitches as I come upon the picture of Lillian’s body. To think that she died like this. There is some poetry in it. I pause, touching the photo. “Wait. What about Rowan? Did you include information on her? Was she there?” Rowan and I have a long and complicated history, but I have an interest in her future too. She may think I’m finished with her, but that will never be the case.
“She wasn’tat the cottage. I have information in the file on her.” I can practically hear James coming alive with anticipation. “Same basic info. She came to live with Lillian when she was just eighteen. A car crash, but the father was friends with Lillian.” He recites, but I already know all of this. I don’t need any of that information and James knows it. My teeth grind in frustration. “No information there that I could find out. She is single.” James adds the last for my benefit. “Unmarried. Been living here in Cloverdale.”
“I didn’t ask that. I was just concerned that perhaps she was present during the attack,” I clarify. Which is true in theory, although the information he is providing isn’t unwelcome. My fingers clench around the pencil so tightly it snaps when he mentions Rowan has been living here in Cloverdale and I haven’t even known about it. She didn’t even come and see me. I tell myself I don’t give a shit. Rowan and I are ancient history, but history. Unfortunately, no matter how much I tell myself that it’s never going to happen with her, my brain always goes back to her. I left a piece of myself with her when I moved on to Cloverdale and my operations here. To become the Riven Dalmatius that I needed to be I couldn’t be with her - that’s what I thought, anyway. Not to mention I had little choice. Lillian held James captive until I capitulated. She claimed he was just insurance - apparently, she had thought I needed motivation to see that it wasn’t a safe choice to be leading the Syndicate and dating her granddaughter. Badthings happened to people close to you when you led criminal organizations. She made James pay for his association with me. I clear my throat, cutting off that train of thought. “Go on then,” I prompt. “What do you think of the Lillian incident?”
“They made a pretty big show.” There’s a rustling of papers over the line. “If this was a hit on the Syndicate. It’s unprecedented. Lillian thought she’d stayed well-hidden with you taking over. It has seemed to work well. But if this was a hit … with the breaches to territory then I’d say Rowan could also be a potential target. You could too. I’m sure you can guess what I’m going to say about this. I’m sure you agree with me too or you wouldn’t make me lay it out there.” He left it hanging and I’m glad he didn't finish the thought.
“If someone wanted my attention. Well, they have it now. I won’t take attacks on the Syndicate lightly or they will think we are weak. Whoever did this is going to die by teeth and claw. They will not get any further into our territory either.” I flip through a few more pictures, seething. I settle on the photo of Rowan. It captures her in half-profile, auburn hair in a halo around her face, soft as if it’s blowing in a breeze, her mouth in a smile, strawberry red lips plump and full. I remember how they taste, and my cock is instantly hard. Her skin is nearly a cream color, and I ache for herjust looking at the photo. I’m almost startled by James’ voice.
“Are you going to leave today, then? I’ll come with you,” James says over the line. I’m still looking at the 5x8 glossy at Rowan’s freckles curving over her nose and cheeks.
“Yes,” I say, distracted by the freckles. “Bring the weapons.” I manage right before clicking off the call. Spending the next half-hour going through the file doesn’t make me feel any less rage, but I get the information that I need. When the phone call comes through that Charming is there for my meeting, I have set my anger to simmer, and a plan has formed.
Sebastian Charming is a known client, so I am not surprised to see him on my calendar. Typically, after getting such news about events in the Picmond, I would have canceled, but I can’t do that for many reasons. Charming is resourceful. He is one of the royal set, but the prince honestly is a decent sort. He could also have information regarding the supply issues in the Picmond. Charming really isn’t just business either. Besides James, Sebastian is probably the closest thing that I have to a friend.
As he strides into the office, I have to gloat a little at his discomfort as Neila trips over herself tomake it apparent that she is interested. He shoots me an exasperated glare. Charming is not only one of the royals in the Kingdom of Bathos but has all the other boxes ticked. Rich, titled, and good-looking, he has women tripping over themselves just to get his attention. True to form, my receptionist is no exception. She is already up and around the desk, trying to get Sebastian to glance her way.
“Can I get you anything, Your Highness? Anything at all? You just have to say the word.” She leans obnoxiously close to the prince as he sits down in the chair near my desk. “Anything?” It is obvious she is allowing her blouse to gape open, her breasts nearly spilling out. I’m surprised we can’t see her nipples. I almost want to stop her, but it’s just a little too much fun to watch Charming squirm.
“No,” Charming says with distaste. He waves his hand at her, careful not to brush up against her accidentally. “I’m afraid I’ll catch something.” His tone is acid sharp and his words unmistakable. To be fair, Charming and his royal title typically attracts a certain type of woman without fail. I never would have understood that before I accrued money. This sort of disingenuous fawning is unattractive. Nelia looks almost hurt and surprised by his outright rejection.
I can’t stop the snort that escapes through my nose. Stopping the laugh is close, but I duck my head and cover it with a cough. Damn, he is cold. Not that I am much better, but he has had a lot more practice with his snobby attitude. He narrows his eyes at me.
“Apologies, Your Highness.” She draws herself up and tilts her chin in the air. “I’m not sure what came over me.” Her mouth pouts at his rejection. I can almost see Charming about to relent for his mean-spirited words, but Neila turns on her heels and leaves, closing the door with a soft click. Both of us let out an audible sigh of relief.
“Dalmatius. What the fucking hell?” He snarls at me.
