Chapter 2 #3
The door opened behind us, and I turned as a man entered.
Tall and well-built, he couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.
His hair was the same glossy walnut as Sterling’s desk, and he’d rolled the sleeves of his starched white shirt to his elbows.
The scent of juniper clung to him as he crossed the office and placed a slim folder in front of Sterling.
He stepped back and folded his hands, his hazel eyes downcast. His handsome face was clean-shaven and devoid of emotion.
“Thank you, Blaine,” Sterling said. He eased his chair back from his desk just enough to create a space between his thighs. “Please take the trash on your way out.”
Blaine flicked his gaze up to Sterling’s.
Something flashed in his hazel irises—a bolt of anger almost too quick to catch.
Then he leaned down and reached between Sterling’s legs.
Silver glinted at his neck. Tight links formed a collar that could have passed as jewelry—except for the ring that rested over the hollow of his throat.
It wasn’t silver, of course. Caleb and I would have sensed it the moment Blaine entered the room.
The collar was most likely steel, which made sense.
It needed to be strong enough to withstand regular use.
Blaine straightened with a small trashcan in his hand, the bin shallow enough to reveal the tied-off condom at the bottom. He stared at it, his fingers tight on the trashcan’s plastic rim.
“Is there a problem?” Sterling asked.
Blaine lifted his head, his emotionless mask in place. “No, sir,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Good.” Sterling’s smile stayed well south of his eyes as he pulled his chair close to the desk. “File the end-of-quarter report before you leave for the evening. We’ll discuss your insubordination in detail later.”
A beat of silence passed. Then Blaine stepped backward and bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”
“Go,” Sterling said, the hint of an edge in his voice.
Blaine rounded the desk and left, the office door snicking shut behind him.
Sterling met Caleb’s eyes. “You were correct, Caleb. I am fucking my secretary. Just not as often as he would like.”
“The weather woman was human,” Caleb said without hesitation.
I tensed.
“Yes,” Sterling said.
Caleb hooked a thumb toward the door at our backs. “She walked right past us when she left. She’s not worried about us telling people we saw her?”
“My clients know they can count on me for confidentiality,” Sterling said. “It’s built into the Moray Corporation’s fees, which are quite steep.”
“Okay, but what if she talks?”
I curled my fingers around the arm of my chair. It was either that or lunge across the scant space between me and Caleb and slap a hand over his mouth.
An indulgent look touched Sterling’s features. “Anyone can keep a secret if they’re properly motivated. Although, I imagine keeping yours must be exhausting. A seer mated to a wolfseeker.” He raised his brows. “I don’t believe the supernatural world has ever seen that particular combination.”
Caleb sat forward. “Who told you about my gift?”
A groan formed in my throat.
Sterling’s indulgent look stayed put. “No one. Until you did just now.”
Caleb stiffened. My groan turned into a sigh.
“I had my suspicions, of course,” Sterling added, “but it’s useful to have confirmation. Thank you for that, Caleb.” He tilted his head. “I’d heard you were something of a himbo, as you Americans call it.” His lips quirked. “Another confirmation.”
The hot metal scent of Caleb’s anger seared my nose. A second later, he growled low in his throat.
“Caleb,” I said quietly.
He cast me a guilty look.
That’s right, brat. I kept my attention on Sterling as I let my displeasure roll across the mate bond.
Slowly, Caleb sat back in his chair.
Sterling favored him with another smile before turning serious green eyes to me. “Last evening, one of my people captured photos of Ulfrik Haraldsson in Rome.” He pushed the folder on his desk toward me.
Leaning forward, I flipped it open and spread three photos between us. Caleb’s chair creaked as he craned his neck to examine them. Ulfrik was unmistakable, his long blond hair streaming over leather-clad shoulders. His features were clear enough to confirm his identity.
“Those photos were taken outside the Teatro della Rosa,” Sterling said.
I looked up. “Carlo Gesualdo.” The master vampire was the most powerful of his kind in Italy.
He’d owned the opera house for over a century.
He hadn’t used his real name in a long time, but every magic-wielder in the world knew his history.
Humans knew it, too, although they believed he’d died four hundred years ago.
Sterling nodded. “Ulfrik attended a single performance and left. My associate took the photos with a long lens. Unfortunately, Ulfrik moved too quickly to track.”
Damn. I stared at the images, which were less grainy than the ones Stefanos had shown me. They’d also been taken earlier in the day, when purple dusk was just beginning to fall. Ulfrik had spent the last fifty years of his life in Denmark. What was he doing in Rome? What was he doing alive?
Caleb looked up at Sterling. “Seems pretty convenient that you had someone in Rome at the same time as Ulfrik.”
The irritation in my chest sharpened. Sterling’s himbo insult had landed as intended. Caleb was nettled and looking for a fight. Sterling wouldn’t give him one. He’d just twist Caleb into a pretzel.
Next time, I was getting Caleb’s vow of silence in writing.
Sterling smiled. “Moray Corporation has interests in every major city in the world. Rome is no different.”
“But you just happened to have someone with a long lens hanging around this theater.”
Reluctant admiration spread through me. As usual, Caleb was a detailed observer. Considering how he’d grown up, it didn’t surprise me. He’d learned to pay attention. If he saw things coming, they were less likely to hurt him.
“The Teatro della Rosa is an opera house, not a theater,” Sterling said. He looked at me. “Your mate asks better questions than you do.”
I kept my voice neutral. “Are you going to answer him?”
He waved a hand. “As I said, my coven protects its interests. Gesualdo rules Rome. I’d be foolish to take my eyes off him.” He smiled. “Or anyone in a position of power.”
The implication slotted into place as precisely as he’d intended it to. Sterling kept an eye on the vampires—and the Council.
His smile remained as pristine as his hair and suit.
“You know I don’t meddle in werewolf or vampire business, Jesse.
But I’ve always appreciated your help.” He gestured to the photos.
“I’ve passed this information on to you as a favor.
If I require more help from you in the future, I hope you’ll feel inclined to give it. ”
Without warning, the photos slid across the desk and into the folder, which promptly snapped itself shut.
Sterling stood, the office’s soft lighting gilding his hair and the hint of stubble on his square jaw. “I have a dinner meeting at eight. The storms are unusual. Traffic will be even worse.”
We’d been dismissed.
I stood, and Caleb rose with me. “Thank you for the lead on Gesualdo,” I told Sterling.
His eyes warmed, the green like jade as he moved his gaze from me to Caleb. “The pleasure was mine.”