Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Boris was gazing at her with a strange expression on his face. ‘So he walked you home after that?’
Mallory nodded. ‘Yes. Sticking around for more speed dates didn’t seem appropriate.’
‘What about the troll?’
She shrugged helplessly. ‘I told Alexander he should get her number and arrange a proper date. He declined.’
‘Did he, indeed?’ Boris murmured.
‘What’s that tone of voice for?’
He sighed patiently. ‘Has it occurred to you that perhaps the reason he’s proving so obstinate when it comes to finding a woman he likes is because he’s decided he likes you?’
Heat rose in Mallory’s cheeks. Obviously she’d wondered about that – how could she not? – but she knew it wasn’t true. ‘I am one hundred percent not who Alexander MacTire wants,’ she protested.
‘Really.’
‘Really! The reason he intervened last night is because he’s an alpha and it’s in his nature to protect and defend.
Right now he sees me as part of his pack because I work for him, and as I’m a squib and not a werewolf I need extra attention, which he’s only too happy to give. That’s as far as it goes.’
‘Mmm.’
‘I’m not sleek nor polished nor Preternaturally powerful, and the MacTire First Mate has to be all of those things. You’re jumping to conclusions.’
There was a knock on the door. Mallory untangled her legs and went to answer it. The bespectacled man on her doorstep was wearing the livery of the Coldstream Delivery Services and holding a woven basket. ‘Mallory Nash?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
He thrust the basket at her. ‘This is for you. Enjoy.’ He turned and thumped down the stairs.
Mallory gazed at the basket and its contents before she closed the door and carried it inside. ‘Problem?’ Boris asked.
She shook her head. ‘No.’ She put the basket on her coffee table and pulled off the card that was tied to the handle. There was only one word scrawled on it: Alex XXX
Boris reached inside. ‘Crusty sourdough bread. Salted butter. Apples. Grapes. Cured meats. Coffee. Chocolate.’ He pulled out a box and frowned. ‘These appear to be home-made pancakes.’
Mallory felt a burst of warmth and ran her fingertip across the three kisses on the card.
‘That’s weird,’ Boris said.
‘What?’
‘There are four different types of honey.’ He pointed to the small glass jars. ‘Runny honey, lavender honey, set honey and honeycomb.’ He picked up the jar of lavender honey. ‘This one has been laced with magicked tribulus. You know that’s an aphrodisiac?’
Alexander’s voice echoed in Mallory’s head. Sweet, golden honey drizzled from edge to edge, seeping into buttery crevices so that sweetness coats your lips with every bite and lingers, like an intimate sensual kiss. Her mouth dried.
‘He keeps complaining that I don’t eat properly,’ she said. ‘That’s all this is.’
‘Sure.’
‘My job is to help him find a mate, Boris.’
‘Yep.’
‘He doesn’t want me.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘He’s only being kind.’
‘Absolutely.’
She gave him a long look. ‘If Alexander MacTire had any romantic designs on me, he would state them directly. He’s not someone who plays games, he’s very direct and truthful. If he felt anything for me, he’d tell me.’
As soon as she spoke, Mallory knew the words were true; just because she’d developed a painful crush on Alexander didn’t mean that he felt the same way.
Far from it. He was her client: this was business and she couldn’t allow her feelings to get in the way.
‘He sees me as a valued employee. Nothing more. Nothing less.’
Boris grinned. ‘If you say so. You’re better at understanding people than I am. Can we have some pancakes and honey now?’
It took longer than Mallory would have liked to arrange access to the exclusive Belladonna Hotel, although the distraction was helpful; it was good to focus on something other than the deepening ache in her heart.
While Boris researched Richard Stone-arm, she was forced to fill her hours with investigating various promising women who would be at the Wolf Ball.
She made copious notes, checked backgrounds and even, on occasion, followed some of the more likely candidates for Alexander’s hand as they went about their daily business.
None of it was enjoyable and she was relieved when her contact at the Belladonna finally said that the arrangements were in place.
She was struggling to find a woman who seemed good enough for Alexander MacTire; he deserved someone truly amazing and so far Mallory hadn’t found her.
She needed to get a move on because time was running out; by the time she set off for the Belladonna Hotel on the last day of the Association of Ogres’ AGM, the ball was only two days away.
It felt less like the countdown to a posh party and more like a ticking time bomb.
The hotel’s concierge, a whip-smart basilisk whose massive girth and height were matched only by his willingness to help, met her a few streets away from the rear entrance in a deserted alleyway that they both knew well.
‘I’m sorry it took so long to sort this out,’ he said.
‘It was a lot harder than eavesdropping on a few secrets – I needed time to arrange the work shifts. Some of the other hotel staff won’t pay you any attention because their heads are in the clouds or they simply don’t care, but there are a few jobsworths that I needed to get out of the way. ’
Mallory beamed at him. ‘George, there’s no reason for you to apologise. You’ve come through for me on this.’ She pulled a sealed glass bottle out of her bag. ‘Here, as payment. It’s fresh.’
‘Druid saliva?’ George asked hopefully.
She shook her head. ‘I’ve gone one better.
This is vampire drool.’ Despite his disgust at her request, Chester Longchamps had managed to produce a half-pint of the stuff when she’d told him it would help her find a bellarmine jug.
He hadn’t asked for details; it was probably better that he didn’t know.
‘Mallory Nash, you are amazing,’ George breathed. He secreted the bottle in the folds of his overcoat then passed her a bag.
Mallory peered inside at the neatly folded uniform. ‘Housekeeping?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘That gives you access to all areas.’
Mallory pushed herself on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek. He blushed. ‘Any new guests or surprising secrets I should hear about?’ she asked while he turned his back as she hastily pulled on the uniform.
‘It’s been a quiet month.’ He paused. ‘Apart from a surprise advance booking for Samhain.’
Mallory adjusted her skirt and straightened her name badge. ‘I’m ready,’ she said.
George turned around and gave her an approving nod.
‘I can try and tie up my hair to make it look neater?’ she offered.
‘I’ve got that covered.’ He passed her a scarf. ‘It’s a shame to hide those curls but they’re memorable and they don’t meet the Belladonna’s exacting dress code.’ His expression curdled; it was obvious what he thought of such rules.
Mallory smiled: she understood that certain organisations did things in particular ways and it always reminded her that she was lucky to work for herself. She secured the scarf, managing to keep most of her springy curls in place. ‘Who’s the surprise guest?’ she asked.
‘We don’t know yet, but the deposit came for our finest suite of rooms from the bank account reserved for the Winter Court.’
Mallory gaped. ‘The Winter Court? The Fae Winter Court?’
He nodded. ‘Yep.’
She whistled: this was thrilling news in more ways than one. ‘How long has it been since a member of the Winter Court came to Coldstream?’
‘Thirteen years. I checked.’
That was before Mallory had moved here. Even the lowest of Winter Court courtiers would be exciting to behold. ‘You’ll let me know when you find out who’s coming?’ There was a lot she could do with a secret of this magnitude.
‘Of course.’ He brushed some invisible dust off her shoulders. ‘Ready?’
Mallory took a long, slow breath, slowly released it, tightened her toes and briefly closed her eyes. The successful completion of her deal with Chester Longchamps might well rest on the next sixty minutes. A fizz of adrenaline burst through her veins and she nodded.
‘Ready,’ she said. ‘Bring on the ogres.’
It would have drawn attention to her presence if she’d strolled through the staff entrance with George, so Mallory waited five minutes after he’d gone back inside before she followed.
Although she’d never stayed at the Belladonna as a guest she knew the hotel layout, even if she was a little hazy on some of the finer details. That was good: she didn’t have to waste time getting her bearings. The less time she spent skulking around the hotel’s plush corridors the better.
She bypassed the kitchen, staffroom and several storage rooms. A white-coated waiter passed her heading in the opposite direction and she half-expected a challenge from him, but he barely glanced at her.
Housekeeping was way below dining-room staff in the hotel’s pecking order; her dull-green uniform ensured that she was beneath notice.
Her confidence grew. By the time she was in the employees’ lift heading up to the conference room floor, she felt certain this venture would work.
When the lift door opened, Mallory was at the end of a dingy corridor lined with health and safety notices and warnings about performing unnecessary magic whilst on duty. No fear on that score, she thought.
She pushed open a door at the far end and was immediately greeted by a cacophony of sound, colour – and dozens upon dozens of broad-shouldered ogres.