The private dining room of the Ripple has floor-to-ceiling glass windows facing north. The city lies beneath us, dazzling and alive, bracketed by the black, undulating snakes of the Hudson and East rivers. They look tame from up here. There is none of the briny choppiness of reality from this height.
“Do you like it?” Robert asks, stepping up next to me, slipping his arm around my back, his fingers cupping my hip.
“This seems like a dangerous place to be during a blackout,” I say, keeping my gaze on the city spread before us like an offering. “It’s a lot of stairs down.”
“The building has a generator, Sydney.” He says it like it’s obvious—as if no building this luxurious would risk its inhabitants to the dangers of darkness.
“Of course, the ultra wealthy needn’t suffer.”
“No one needs to suffer.”
“Yet so many do.”
Robert squeezes my hip, and I turn my gaze to his profile. His sculpted nose, trimmed beard, dangerous lips. The lights of the city play across the planes of his face. Robert turns to me, meeting my eyes, a question in his gaze. Why are you looking at me like that?
“Do you care about anyone?” I ask.
Robert laughs softly, his eyes closing for a long moment before opening to find mine again. “Sydney, if I didn’t care about you, you’d be dead.”
“How romantic.”
His eyes drift down to my dress—a silk wrap in deep ocean blue. “You look beautiful.”
“Do you care when people suffer?”
Robert’s eyes come back to mine. “Not in the way you do.”
“Why not?”
“Why do you?”
Blue lets out a low growl, drawing my attention to the hulk of a man standing by the entryway, the telltale wire of a security agent curling around his ear. He shifts, moving to open the doors—painted a deep yellow and decorated with intricate carvings, the restaurant’s logo at the top center. A duck turning back to look at its tail, the letter R engraved in its belly. The Ripple, another R word in this night with Robert and Richard.
Richard Chiles enters the room, his suit navy with filigrees of gold pinstriping the luxurious material. He nods to the security guard, a gesture of gratitude and understanding—I was once where you stand. I also am a protector. The guard nods back, his expression passive, but his eyes rake over Richard, admiration gleaming in their depths.
Richard’s focus finds us by the window and a smile breaks over his expression—warm and intimate. Like we are old friends he is happy to see. I force a smile onto my face, thinking about Merl, imagining that it’s my friend and mentor crossing toward us instead of my next victim.
Robert’s hand shifts to my lower back, a protective touch. Or maybe a warning to behave myself. Either way, it sends a shudder of irritation up my spine. Or is it Richard’s face that’s annoying the fuck out of me?
Blue’s nose brushes my hip, and I drop my right hand to the top of his head. Richard’s gaze follows the movement, landing on my dog. The skin around Richard’s eyes tightens almost imperceptibly for a flash. And then his attention is on Robert, and his smile is broad.
When Richard reaches us, Robert’s hand leaves my back to clasp Richard’s. The two men shake, radiating friendliness. It’s possible they actually like each other. Though I doubt either would care if the other suffered as long as it didn’t cause them personal harm. “You remember my wife,” Robert says, turning to me.
“Of course,” Richard answers, holding out his hand to me. His nails are manicured, but his palm is callused. The senator’s grasp is just the right amount of strong—enough to know I’m being held but not crushed. If I was normal it would probably make me feel safe. But I’m just resisting the urge to grip him hard, pull him against my chest and slip the knife strapped to my thigh into his gut.
Richard Chiles has the chiseled jaw of a made-for-TV politician, chestnut hair and dark blue eyes. The clean scent of aftershave haloes him. The scar on his cheekbone seems to amplify his handsomeness. He’s not just pretty. He’s not just smart. He’s also dangerous. What every woman wants…what every nation needs.
I swallow the revulsion climbing up my throat. Such utter bullshit. We wouldn’t need dangerous men to protect us if we didn’t empower dangerous men. It’s a sick cycle. I force a smile onto my face, remembering that at least this cog—this dangerous man—won’t survive the night.
“A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Maxim,” Richard says.
“And you, Senator.” I look up at him from under my lashes—extended and thickened by magnetized fakes. Simon’s teeth bit into his lower lip as he carefully applied them with tweezers. I nibble my own bottom lip now as I meet Richard’s gaze. His eyes are drawn to my mouth, helping me hide the monster seething inside, hungry for the man’s blood.
We spend the meal chatting about real estate, upcoming fund-raising galas, basically anything but the topic we are there to discuss. It’s not until dessert plates have been cleared and we are finishing our after-dinner drinks that Robert broaches the subject.
“Richard,” he says, leaning back in his chair, all powerful man taking up space. “We need to discuss a matter, something I warned you about.” Richard’s brows raise in a gesture of curious innocence—as if he’d never go against Robert’s advice but hopes to correct the mistake quickly and with grace. “When the blackout happened…”
“A horrible failure of infrastructure,” Richard chimes in. My hands tense in my lap, and I have to focus not to scowl at him.
“Well,” Robert says. “You’ve made statements that Joyful Justice was involved.”
Richard shakes his head, leaning back in his chair, taking up all sorts of space himself. “I’m just repeating what I’ve heard from our intelligence agencies, Robert. You know that.”
Robert lets out a low chuckle. An inside joke I don’t get. “I warned you it was a mistake to go after them,” Robert says, casually, as if Richard’s life doesn’t hang in the balance of this conversation. And maybe that’s because it doesn’t. Maybe Robert recognizes I’m going to kill him no matter what resolution—if any—we reach tonight.
“I didn’t realize you had such a vested interest in Joyful Justice,” Richard Chiles says, his handsome face placid. His lie fluid.
Richard’s gaze falls on me, his eyes the deep blue of sapphires. Hard and bright with intelligence. As his focus roams over my face, Richard’s expression is empty of fear; it almost looks like he’s studying a complicated math problem.
I smile at him. I’m not complicated. One plus one equals me showing up in your room to torture and kill you.
He picks up his drink; the neat Scotch in the faceted crystal tumbler. “You want me to exonerate Joyful Justice?” he asks, keeping his focus on me, before taking a sip.
“Seems a little late for that, doesn’t it?” I ask.
He shrugs, casual and unconcerned. “I don’t want you as an enemy.”
“Don’t you?” I offer a subtle smile and a fast blink of my long lashes.
His smile is charming—practiced yet still magnetic. “Of course not, Mrs. Maxim.” My jaw tightens as my smile grows. I’m sure my teeth baring isn’t charming—more menacing badger, but Richard doesn’t seem to notice. He leans forward, placing the glass on the white tablecloth. “What can I do to make amends?”
Robert looks over at me, both men waiting for my answer. Do either really care? No. They both just want to figure out how to use my wants to meet their ends. “Those actually responsible for the blackout facing consequences would be a good start.” My voice is even, not the same casual indifference Richard showed earlier, but I don’t sound like the honey badger who plans to tear out his throat either.
Richard nods, sits back, looks over at Robert. “Do you know who’s responsible?” he asks.
I search for any hint of guilt in Richard’s eyes, but there is nothing there. Nothing he doesn’t want me to see.
Robert shrugs, noncommittally.
“How can you be sure it’s not Joyful Justice?” Richard asks.
I huff a laugh, but the men’s connection doesn’t break. “It’s obvious to anyone who understands that organization.” Robert answers with another shrug of his broad shoulders.
“And you understand them?” Richard asks, eyes coming back to me, sharpening.
“What? Like it’s hard?” I ask.
Richard chuckles and looks over at Robert again, as if to compliment him on the charming woman he’s brought to dinner. He rests his elbows on the table, hands tenting, and gold watch sliding down his wrist. “Shall we be frank?”
“I usually play Judy,” I answer.
He lets out a subtle sound of amusement and lets his eyes twinkle like I’m funny and we are friends. “I want you as an ally.” Richard holds my gaze. “Robert understands how much we can do together. I’d love to have you join us.”
“I’m not a joiner.”
Richard’s teeth flash in an amused smile. “Alliances are what power is made of, Ms. Rye.”
I cock my head at his use of my name. Well…if we’re being honest. “How could I trust you? We both know you’re a liar. And a kidnapper. And a scumbag.”
His jaw tightens as he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re a murderer, a terrorist, and an unholy bitch.”
I laugh. “I like this honest side of you.”
Robert picks up his brandy and swirls, the dark toffee liquor sliding around the bell-shaped chalice.
“I can be a very powerful ally,” Richard promises me.
“And I can be a deadly enemy.” I smile sweetly.
“So let’s work together. What can I do to make amends?”
“How could I possibly trust you?”
“Because I recognize how powerful you are, and how dangerous to cross.” He holds my gaze. And if I wasn’t so sure he was full of shit, it’d be hard not to believe him.
“Good answer,” I admit.
“What can I do to prove my value to you?”
“Start by denying Joyful Justice’s involvement.”
“Done.”
“Get the Malina Santos bill passed.” I reference the bill he and Eunice were working on together.
“Already hard at work on it.”
“Promise to empower the EPA to fight much more strongly against pollution and the climate crisis.”
“A key part of my campaign.”
“Greenwashing.”
His smile is fleeting. “Environmentalism is good business at the end of the day—we can’t make money off a dead planet.”
“Stop doing fucked up shit to propel your own ambitions.”
He doesn’t look uncomfortable, nothing about his expression changes—there isn’t even a spark of annoyance in his gaze. “Isn’t that a double standard?” he asks.
“You think I do fucked up shit for my ambition?” I raise both brows because I can’t raise just one. Richard’s eyes flicker to my hand on the table, to Robert’s ring there, then return to mine again. “It’s not fucked up to marry a man you love to avoid incarceration. You know what is fucked up, though?” I ask but I don’t wait for an answer. “Kidnapping a child you’ve known most of her life to protect a monster.”
“The man you love is a monster.”
“He’s not the only one I love. And yes, he’s a monster. Just like you. Just like me.” I lean forward, my elbows resting on the table, my hand tenting in a mirror of his own. The votive candle flickers between us, casting its chaotic light across his handsome features, and dancing in his eyes.
“The difference between us—because this doesn’t seem to be something you’re grasping—is that my goal, my ambition, is to help people. To make sure assholes like you two chasing power and money don’t hurt innocent people. I’m chasing justice. You’re chasing power. Neither of us are going to catch our bunny, but I think mine is worth pursuing. Mine is worth marrying a man like Robert for. Mine only gets shitbags like you killed. Not innocents.” Then I smile.
The skin around Richard’s eyes tightens further. His math problem just got more complicated. He sits back, hands parting, landing flat on the table. “I’m going to be the most powerful man in the world soon, Ms. Rye. And I can be your ally or your enemy. I will do as you ask—exonerate Joyful Justice, work on the Malina Santos bill, and fight to save the planet. Hopefully, in time, you’ll see all heroes are monsters. And building alliances among ourselves is when shit gets done.”
Mulberry’s words come back to me so loudly it’s almost like the earpiece I wore wasn’t crushed onto Robert’s parquet floor. We can choose to be calm seas or a tempest. Lightning crackles and thunder rumbles, my anger swirling over raging swells. But I smile at Richard Chiles, letting out a breath, letting the blue skies through and calming the ocean inside me.
“Excuse me,” I say, pushing back my chair to rise. Both men follow my action, standing with me—chivalry might not be dead…but Richard Chiles soon will be.
Blue and I head toward the bathrooms, leaving through the yellow doors, past the security guard. He nods at us, eyes cast down. More chivalry.
A server is walking down the hall carrying a tray with the espresso Richard ordered. Her eyes brighten when she spots Blue and I give her a warm smile as we meet. “Want to pet him?” I ask.
Pink stains her cheeks. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all, let me hold your tray.”
“Oh, no, that’s not…” Blue wags his tail and approaches her. I lean in, creating an intimacy between us as Blue maneuvers himself onto her foot. I give her a little head nod, a come on you know you want to look. She relents when Blue’s muzzle nuzzles her stomach. I step back with the tray while she devotes her attention to my dog. He closes his eyes, luxuriating in the attention while I quietly slip a slow-acting sedative into Richard’s drink.
When I return to the table from the bathroom, he’s halfway through the espresso. Both men stand again. Thunder rumbles in the back of my mind as I take my seat. Richard’s smug smile doesn’t bother me because I know something he doesn’t…