Chapter 34 Ari #2
Ari lets his hand linger a second longer on the mayoral hopeful’s shoulder and feels desire rise in the man.
“Let us worry about the bureaus,” he replies.
As he speaks, he quietly transmutes some of the man’s anxiety away, changing cortisol into serotonin, letting the chemicals gradually build up, boosting the man’s confidence.
“We’ll make sure the mayor doesn’t get wind of any of this.
All I need to know is that, when you’re in office, Lumines will be guaranteed an exclusive port contract, import taxes waived.
Reed has big plans for expansion, and all of them require your cooperation. ”
The man hesitates, then starts, “If I could—”
Ari’s voice turns firm. “No other syndicates.”
The light in the man’s eyes is already changing, and Ari can see him tilting in favor of the plan, coaxed by the swell of good hormones in his mind.
“Well,” Doherty says again, trying to stick to his declaration.
“Well—Grand Central, that is, Diamond Taylor already has her own contract that would conflict with yours.”
“You know Mayor Grayson favors Grand Central. We don’t deal with him, and we expect you to return the favor after your win.”
“I appreciate your confidence,” Doherty says in a hushed tone, “but—”
“Give me the number you want for your campaign,” Ari says calmly.
The man hesitates a while longer, then names it.
“Done,” Ari says, sipping his drink.
The man hesitates once more, caught off guard by Ari’s nonchalance at the price, but the transmutations are too much for him to resist now, and he shakes his head. “Well,” he says, “if you can keep your end of the bargain.”
“I’m not the one you need to worry about,” Ari says, removing his hand from the man’s shoulder. “Keep your end, and we have a deal.”
Doherty relaxes, feeling confident, convinced his decision is his own. Then he edges closer, and his voice lowers so that only Ari hears him.
“Can I see you again?” he murmurs. “Please. Whenever you want. I’ll make the time.”
Ari smiles, colder now. He’s certainly no prostitute, although he has used the occasional affair to get what he wants for Lumines. But the key to such a strategy is to keep oneself scarce, so Ari just says, “We look forward to your signature, Mr. Doherty.”
The mayoral candidate’s gaze turns ill with disappointment. “Of course,” he says, and after an awkward moment, he backs off.
When the congressman eventually drifts away, Charlotte touches Ari’s hand. “Alexander Reed’s golden boy,” she teases. “So, what do you do for the Lumines Group, to earn that reputation?”
“Paperwork,” Isla answers for him.
Charlotte laughs, trying to be in on the joke. Ari just presses his lips together and smiles sidelong at her.
“Mm,” he says. “I work in public relations.”
“He’s very good at it,” Isla says.
“I’ve heard a lot about what Ari’s good at,” Charlotte muses, thinking they’re making sexual innuendos.
“Oh, stop messing with her,” Dominique protests, giving Charlotte a sympathetic look.
“I would never,” Isla replies. “I only ever mess with Ari. Isn’t that right?”
He gives her an annoyed look again, thinking about the number of times he’s almost missed a meeting because of her, or the way she would slip innuendos into conversations just to watch him get flustered, or the way she likes to make his job harder whenever he’s in the middle of working on someone.
Isla just laughs at his expression, finishes her drink, and launches loudly into an imaginary anecdote of them learning magic tricks in college from a roommate studying to be a magician.
Charlotte leans against Ari and runs her hand idly along his back.
The laughter continues, and the night settles deeper, turning from purple to blue to jet.
“Ari.”
Dominique’s voice cuts through the laughter of the guests. Her easy grin has waned, and she tilts her head without looking over her shoulder. “Rudra,” she says.
Ari looks up to see the man approaching their party. The man’s beard is peppered with gray now, his appearance older than his years, but there is still something about him that makes Ari want to shrink away, reminds him of being young and unsure.
“Showing off to your guests again?” the man says now as he stops behind the couches.
His eyes have started to look more sunken in recent years, and deep shadows blanket them in the night.
“I saw that plume from the other side of the patio. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t summon the fire department here. ”
“And did anyone summon the fire department?” Ari says.
Rudra ignores his comment. “Reed wants a word.”
There’s no need for more talk. Ari rises immediately. Beside him, Charlotte sinks back onto the seat in visible disappointment.
“Will I see you tonight?” she asks him.
“I don’t know,” Ari says to her. “I’m sorry. I’ll call you.”
“Friday, right? Don’t forget.”
“It’s a date,” he promises her.
“Don’t worry,” Isla tells him. “I’ll regale her with stories about you.” As Ari turns away, Isla launches into another false anecdote, and Charlotte’s disappointment fades from her face.
As Rudra leads him away, other guests turn instinctively in Ari’s direction, drawn to him as if he is a light.
A group of girls casts him secret smiles, giggle about him to one another.
A man tries to approach him, smiling hopefully.
Another glares at him, face angry with desire.
Charisma draws both obsessive love and hate—Ari has been cornered before, has been slammed against a wall, has felt hands around his neck, has had his arm grabbed so hard that it left a bruise.
He is careful to be polite now, acknowledging the attention with reserved smiles before Rudra rescues him, engaging Ari in small talk until they’ve passed the crowds and stepped through the patio doors.
At last, they enter Reed’s home. The penthouse is expansive but minimally furnished, the décor tastefully muted. They cut through clusters of partygoers and past a pair of bodyguards blocking a hall, down to a quiet office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city’s skyline.
Alexander Reed is seated by the window with his glasses on, reading a newspaper. As Ari approaches, he takes a sip from his steaming mug and uses it to gesture at a pot on the round table.
“Rose tea,” he says in greeting.
It is Reed’s way of acknowledging the side effects of sand on Ari.
Even as the drug enhances his charisma, it also amplifies his shyness, turning it into anxiety.
Now that he’s away from the party and in a quieter place, Ari notes the uncomfortable quickening of his heartbeat, the way the anxiety tightens his chest and nibbles at the corners of his thoughts.
The rose tea helps. Ari takes a seat and pours himself a cup. “Thank you, sir.”
“Well, my Shakespeare.” Reed looks over his paper while Ari takes a sip. “I hear you’re the life of the party.”
Ari crosses one leg over the other, letting the tea calm him. “Just another night.”
“I saw the police chief’s daughter with you. How are you getting along with her?”
“Well enough,” Ari says. “We can carry a good conversation together.”
“Her father seems pleased with your interest in her.”
“I left a good impression on him at the last gala we attended.”
Reed nods in approval. “And I was told you were working on a certain state senator. Do we have him on board?”
Ari sighs a little. “So he says. Doherty isn’t always reliable, and he sounds skittish about attracting attention from the city before the election cycle begins.”
“Scared of the police?”
Ari shrugs. “Scared of Grayson. He thinks the mayor’s got the feds sniffing around his finances.”
“And what do you think, Ari?”
“I think it’s a valid enough concern. No one wants the FBI on their trail. But we can redirect any attention on him easily enough.”
“I look forward to the day we have a candidate with a fucking spine.”
“Would be nice. But I think an easily influenced mayor might be in our best interest too. At any rate, he’s in the right mood tonight. I’ll have the contract delivered to him tomorrow morning, and we’ll see what happens after that.”
“Good.” Reed turns to a new page, then glances up at Ari. “I’ve heard a rumor.”
“Is it about me?”
“Not everything’s about you, golden boy. Word has it Diamond’s ghost visited our docks last night.”
Ari puts his tea down. “Oh? Mozart?”
Reed puts his paper down for a moment to hand Ari a chart: a spreadsheet showing some of the latest shipments out from their dock at the pier. “Twice this month, details of our deals were leaked to Grand Central. Missing cargo, redirected elsewhere.”
“You think Mozart’s found their way into our circle now?” Ari suggests, skimming the numbers.
“Could be working with a mole, yes. But Rudra’s been questioning our people separately, one by one. Stories are consistent, as are alibis.”
“Mozart’s been pulling these stunts for a while now.”
“Not at this frequency.”
“They’re getting bolder.”
Reed leans back in his chair. “We received a report this morning that one of our informants at the dock was found with his hands molded to a post. No witnesses.”
At that, Ari looks up from the paper. “Did the informant see their face?”
“He claims no one was there. Doesn’t even remember hearing a voice.”
Ari’s skin prickles. Rumors about one of Grand Central’s new alchemists started popping up years ago, someone with the attribution of Mozart.
At first, it was just a leak of information here, a quiet break-in there.
An annoying thorn, prodding them in the side every few months.
Diamond’s got a ghost, their crewmen started grumbling to one another.
But twice in a month? A direct attack on one of their workers?
“That’s impossible,” Ari mutters with a sigh.
“So it seems.”
“How sure are we that they even work for Grand Central?” Ari asks. “We’ve already tailed most of their newer alchemists, and none of them match with what we know about Mozart.”