Chapter 1 #2
I blurt out, "Maybe I should have had him killed?"
"That would have eliminated the Chosen One."
My heart thumps harder against my rib cage. "What is the new path?"
Kirill sighs. "Don't ask questions you know I can't answer. But when the time comes, you will be tested again."
I freeze.
The SUV swerves in and out of traffic.
"This is your cross to carry now, Valentina. The security leak, Sean's lack of following orders, the man you know nothing about..."
"Sean's disobedience shouldn't be on me. It's Byrne's job to make sure he obeys orders," I remind.
Kirill grunts.
"What does that mean?" I snap.
He scoffs. "Think about what you just said, Valentina. You're a smart woman. Put two and two together. What do you want?"
I dig my nails into my thigh, muttering, "A seat at the table."
"So who's responsible for everything?"
I try to clear my dry throat, but it doesn't help. My voice cracks, "I am."
He asserts, "That's right. If you want the seat, you have to prove you can handle every obstacle that comes your way. Now I've asked you before, but I'll ask you one last time. Are you sure you want a seat?"
"Yes," I say without hesitating.
"There are consequences to failing. This isn't a task I would want. I will allow you to back out, but you must do it right now," he offers.
I stay quiet.
He cautions, "There won't be another chance. Back out and be happy where you are, or go forward. You'll either gain a seat at the table or die trying."
Part of me screams to step back and be happy with my current level inside the Underworld.
But I know myself. Until I earn the seat my parents held, I'll never rest. And what is happiness anyway?
It's just an emotion for weak-minded people who don't want to see what's really going on in front of them.
I sit taller in my seat, declaring, "I want my seat, Kirill."
"Then your choice is made," he says in a sad voice.
"Don't get all excited for me," I snap. Kirill may be the king, but I'm his only friend. And he's the only person in the world I trust.
Still, that won't get me any passes. I have to earn my seat or I'll die. And I wouldn't put it past the Omni to make Kirill be the one to see to it I never take another breath.
"Like I said, you've made your choice," he repeats.
The SUV veers right and stops.
I glance out the window and hit the button for the divider window. "Why did we stop?"
Vito glances at me through the rearview mirror. "Orders, ma'am."
"Cassian?" I question.
He turns his head, his eyes full of questions. "I'm not allowed inside."
My gut drops. "Kirill?"
"Penthouse. Your handprint will work. You've got six hours," Kirill states and hangs up.
Six hours for what?
Vito opens my door. He reaches for my hand to help me out. "Ma'am."
I harden my gaze, take his hand, and get out of the SUV. I push through the gust of wind coming off Lake Michigan.
A young bellman opens the front door. "Ma'am." He nods and stares at me like he knows who I am.
Of course he does. I'm sure he's in the Underworld.
I don't give him another thought, ignore the security at the desk, and head toward the elevator. I push the button.
The doors open, I step inside, and press my palm against the screen. The sound of the metal shutting hits my ears, and the box smoothly rises.
The elevator opens, and I step into a large foyer, then past the front door. A beautiful great room boasts the Chicago skyline, black leather furniture, red accents, and freshly baked cookie scents.
Roaring flames fill the fireplace. I glance around, but no one is in the room. "Hello?" I call out, stepping toward the wall. I turn the button, but the fire doesn't get smaller.
Great.
"Hello? Anyone here?" I try again, strolling down the hallway and looking in rooms. It takes a while to get through the luxury penthouse, but I finally decide no one is here.
I return to the main room and take the bottle of champagne out of the ice bucket.
It's melted into mostly water, due to the blazing fire.
I pick up a flute and fill it. I drink most of it, trying to cool off, but it only makes me hotter.
Still, I top it off and stand next to the glass, staring at the glow of the buildings, wishing I could open a window, but it's one solid piece of thick glass.
What am I doing here?
Six hours.
No answers come. I pace the family room, replaying the evening's events, getting angry all over again.
I studied everything the Omni gave me about Sean Jr. I memorized it until I could recite any fact in my sleep. It was over 100 pages, including supporting photos and other assets, and they only gave me 10 hours to review it. Still, I memorized it all.
Did I miss something?
I do a quick run-through in my head.
No, I didn't. I would have remembered.
A bead of sweat trickles down my face. I realize I'm still wearing my mask.
I pull it over my head, toss it on the table, and lean back, tousling my hair and trying to get the sweaty pieces not to stick to my neck.
A low whistle startles me.
I jump and spin.
The stranger from the fight stands in the doorway, his arms crossed, biceps straining against his T-shirt. An arrogant gaze wrapped in obsenity and promise slips down my body, turning the already-hot room into an uncomfortable inferno.
My heart beats wildly, beads of sweat trickle on my thighs, and every second he spends taking me in intensifies all of it.
He finally pins his dark eyes on me, taunting, "So the mask comes off."
I hold my breath.
His mouth curves, and one eyebrow arches.
Snap out of it, I scold myself.
I lift my chin and square my shoulders. "What's your name?"
Surprise fills his expression. "You don't know?"
A trembling rush coils behind my ribs, competing with the warm flutter rising low and sharp in my belly.
He adds, "You—"
"When I ask a question you'll answer," I warn, but I've lost my authoritative demeanor.
He grunts, shuts the door, and moves forward.
I stand frozen, unsure where to go.
"What happens if I disobey you?" he baits.
I study him for a moment, then reply, "There are consequences."
He closes the gap between us and leans over me. He takes one finger, moves my chin upward, and slowly breathes in and out.
What's he doing?
His eyes drift to my lips.
He stares so long my insides tremble, and my mouth waters.
"Why is it so hot in here?" he asks in a distracted tone, then brushes a bead of sweat off my cheek.
Sparks percolate under his touch.
He drags his finger over my jaw, then my collarbone, and leans into my ear, murmuring, "Did you bring me here for business or pleasure?"