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AN EVENING BREEZE BLEW OFF the coast, bringing the smell of the sea and the rowdies’ night market to the balcony. Malcolm looked out at the sea of yellow lanterns that surrounded the stalls in the distance filled with grilled meat and the seductive aroma of sizzling onions. One of the great mysteries of life was why the wealthy insisted on serving bland food when the local street food of any given city-state was delicious.
Rose Lauren walked up beside him and leaned out over the ornate stone balustrade to look at the decorated gardens below.
Taking a safe spot with his back to the doorframe where he could watch both the luckless woman and the room where Sonya had run off with the redhead, Malcolm tried to tamp down on his annoyance. Sonya pushing him over for Silar wasn’t the problem. It was the man’s attention to Rose that was biting at his nerves.
It was an irrational response, and uncontrollable. The sultry sea air combined with an almost-familiar face made the strange woman seem too much like someone he had known before he moved to Descent. Someone he’d never see again, unless life dealt him another cruel twist of fate.
And still he found his gaze tracing her face, desperately looking for a familiar shine in a stranger’s eyes.
The focus of his attention turned, elegant red dress swirling around her, gold paintwork on her body catching the light. “Thank you for staying with me. I don’t know anyone in the area.”
“I’d say my pleasure, but your lover might object.” Malcolm tried to keep the sardonic bite out of his tone, but wasn’t sure he succeeded.
“He’s not my lover,” she said with an easy smile.
Malcolm looked back at the closed door where Sonya had hidden her newest boytoy. “That’s for the best. Sonya isn’t very good at sharing.”
“And you are?” Miss Lauren moved so she was closer, but still out of reach.
“Sonya and I are work associates.” Miss. He focused on that. She was a stranger. An unknown quantity. Not a friend. Not a confidant. Not someone he should be drawn to at all.
Miss Lauren raised a dark eyebrow in question. “I’m surprised. I know her reputation and I could see her keeping a lover that hated her, but not a business associate. She must want something you have desperately.”
He tensed in alarm. There was no way that woman could know how he felt about Sonya. “I’m sure you’re mistaken.”
“Really?” Miss Lauren pushed herself up and sat on the railing, feet dangling and skirt sliding so the slit showed a long stretch of smooth, tanned skin flecked with gold embellishments. “I make a living off knowing how much people are invested in something. Antiques and information are only worth as much as someone is willing to pay. A hint of disgust or lust makes all the difference. And you look at Sonya Lethe like she’s some bug you found at the bottom of your soup bowl.”
“I’m sure I don’t.” No one could read his face, and there was no such thing as mind readers, no matter what mad conspiracy theories about the spacers in Enclave said.
Rose Lauren chuckled. “You do though. Your lip jumps up in a sneer every time she poses. Your eyes tighten when she talks. You tense when she reaches for you. Has no one else noticed?”
“No.” His teeth ground together.
“Then I’ll keep your secret.”
Malcolm frowned at her. “For what price?”
“Oh, we’re friends. Why be crass and discuss things like money?” Her smile was playful.
“We’re not friends. And your lover sounded intent on keeping it that way.” He’d seen them as they walked in, eyes on each other. They’d laughed and touched, leaned in together and divided the universe in two parts: them and everyone else. If all of that was the result of a few hours together and chemistry, he was envious.
The woman moved, looking out over the city, caught in the moonlight. After a day spent with Sonya, the lack of pretense was endearing, if not encouraging.
“What do you want?” Malcolm asked again.
“What does everyone want?”
“Power.”
She laughed, a genuine chortle as if that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “Oh, see, now I know you really are from Descent. The accent isn’t pure, but the avarice is. I swear it’s something in the genes. Show a person from Descent a group, and their first thought is always: how can I be in charge?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Malcolm asked, walking over to stand by the railing close to her.
She gave him a speculating look, leaning back a little so the drop to the ground yawned at her back. “With power comes responsibility and paperwork. It means never having a free day again.”
“It also means the power to protect the people you love.”
Something terrible crossed her eyes, changing her from a beautiful dreamer to a dark dream. “What a beautiful illusion you enjoy,” she said, speculation dropping from her voice. “Power doesn’t protect anything. At best, it’s an agreement between two enemies to not hit as hard as you could. At its worst, it’s a poison. It will take everything good in your life and turn it to ash.”
“Is that the voice of experience, or a threat?”
“Neither.” The moment passed and she straightened on the rail, smiling and becoming again a simple socialite. “I’m just very good at noticing little things.”
Just. It was a filler word uncommon off the third continent, and even then it hadn’t been common until the spacers settled in Enclave.
“Where did you say you were from?”
“Where does it sound like I’m from?” She didn’t exaggerate her accent to help him out.
Malcolm narrowed his eyes. “Coastal Descent, but you’ve spent a lot of time on the third continent.”
She smiled. “And your accent says born on the islands, educated in Descent, and you work there, but someone close to you hasn’t adopted the local pronunciations.”
His parents. “That’s a lot to pick up from an accent.”
Another smile, this one bordering on rueful. “You have been in public with Sonya Lethe a lot recently. The Lethes have deep pockets and lots of buyers.”
Everything fell into place. “So, you’re here hoping to make friends with Sonya through me?”
Rose lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I brought a gift for her.”
“The redhead?” Silar. The same name had been on the list Sonya had given him. It was hard to imagine that was coincidence.
“He has a reputation in Tarrin. A lover on every street, and a thing for brunettes. It wasn’t hard to get his attention. He keeps things casual, never lets his relationships get serious, never says no to someone interested.” There was a little hitch in her voice.
Malcolm latched on to the opening. “You’re close to him?”
“We just met.”
True. “You don’t care for him?”
“Not more than I’d care for anyone else I suppose. I know he’s playing for fun.”
Lie. But what part of it was a lie?
“What are you getting from Lethe?” she asked. “Money? Information? Attention?”
“If I tell you what I get, will you make a counter-offer?”
She shrugged again. “Maybe. You aren’t quite the antiques I usually deal in, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t interest. You’re a well-educated man working for a very small company. Lethe wants you, and that means others have taken an interest.”
“I’m not on the open market.”
“Is that what your mother says?” Rose seemed more interested in the shadows visible in the garden under the strings of lights than in an answers.
Malcolm took a moment to think. “My mother?”
“Just a rumor,” Rose said, skirt fluttering between the columns of the balustrade like a flag. “You’re an unattached heir with land and a minor title. If you don’t pick someone for yourself, eventually a broker will be called. Is that what Lethe is to you?” She turned back to him with fierce interest. “A way of putting off your family duties?”
“I’ve never heard it described as a family duty,” he said, throat tightening. “What an alien way of looking at the world.” Rose Lauren had figured out more about him than anyone in nearly five years. He wished it meant something more than it did.
Her face gave nothing away. He was certain he didn’t know her, but the way she spoke, the timbre of her voice, her word choice...
He was reading into the situation. Wanting to see a friend where there was none. Desperately dreaming of a brief return to a time when he wasn’t alone, drifting aimlessly as he tried to stay alive.
“We’re all very different people.” Static sparked between them as she touched his arm and dropped herself to the ground. “Won’t you excuse me, I’m just going to step into the garden for a moment.”
“I’ll come with you.”
The look on her face was one of suffused shock and frustration.
“Sonya said I should keep you company.” And he wanted to see what had caught her attention.
Her hand moved, brushing across her thigh as if she were reaching for something that wasn’t there. He’d seen the move on Descent in the training gyms and in the few street battles between rival corporations when things went wrong in public. Someone had trained her to use a weapon.
Interesting.
“You haven’t given me your sales pitch yet,” Malcolm said, using tactics he’d nearly forgotten. Everyone at Bennu tended to go along with what he suggested; even Sonya agreed with him.
But Rose Lauren was actively trying to shake him.
She sighed and the multi-colored lights of the party sparkled in her eyes. “Fine. Why not?” Gathering the skirt of her gown, she swept past him, back into the main room.
Malcolm fell into her wake, appreciating the crowd parting for her in a way they wouldn’t move for Sonya.
Rose looked like a woman out of someone’s dream—possibly a good dream, possibly a nightmare—but she moved with the sure confidence that everything was going to go her way.
Dropping his drink on a tray, he followed her down the stairs, the silk train of her dress flowing like blood on the marble, and into the beautifully lit garden.
Rose stopped and scanned the shadows between the trees.
“See anything?”
“A rare butterfly,” she said in an obvious lie.
He chuckled and followed her across the grass.
Instead of heading to the table filled with delicate snacks like most of the guests, she moved purposefully towards the darkness beyond.
“What are you looking for?”
“Something that’s not here,” she said as the trees devoured the light.
“Sounds impossible to find.”
She stopped. “No, actually, it’s quite easy.” She was looking at something hidden by the gloom. “Doctor Long, do you have a phone with you?”
“Of course.” He pulled his out and switched it on to provide a light.
A guard lay prone on the ground, head titled at an uncomfortable angle.
Rose dropped to a crouch and pressed two fingers to his neck in a professional fashion.
“Antiquities dealer, information merchant, marriage broker, and medical doctor? You are a woman of diverse talents, Miss Rose.”
“It’s basic first aid training.” She stood up and scanned the darker shadows.
Probably. But looking for trouble and keeping calm while doing it weren’t.
“Care to tell me what I’ve wandered into?” Malcolm asked.
“No.” Miss Lauren’s skirt flared around her legs like living fire as she turned. “I invited you to stay upstairs. This isn’t your concern.”
“How is it yours?”
For a moment the expression on her face was frozen, as if she’d forgotten she wasn’t supposed to be running someone’s security, and then a smile bloomed on her face. “You really aren’t an art aficionado, are you? This party tonight has a wealth of rare paintings on display. They are magnificent, and if I can convince the owner to sell, my commission will be enough that I’d never need to consider working for Lethe or any other powerful family again. If those paintings wind up on the black market, however, I don’t get a commission. I don’t deal with illegal or stolen goods, and I don’t like people who do.”
Malcolm stepped back with a nod. “I’m sorry. I misread the situation. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Do you know anyone here?” she asked.
“Not as such.”
“Can you name the host? Any of the prominent guests? Do you know who is here as private security?”
“I—”
“—don’t,” she finished for him. “Which means you’d go around making a fuss and worrying the guests. I’ll go find the appropriate people and then meet you upstairs. By the time Lethe is done with Silar”—she spat the name like a curse—“I’ll be back on the balcony chatting about the price of gemstones or whatever it is your family collects. Your reputation with Sonya will be safe and my future secure. We’ll all be happy. Except those thieves.” She tossed her black hair behind her and strode off like a fairytale warrior going to slay a giant.
He looked down at the fallen guard and flipped his phone in thought.
“That woman is very passionate about art, or very good at lying,” he murmured.
Part of him wanted to chase after her, for the adrenaline rush if nothing else. No wonder the stupid redhead was acting possessive; twenty minutes with her was more exciting than anything he’d done in years.
But he’d chased that impulse before.
Nearly gotten himself killed falling in love with the wrong woman, and he’d lost her in the end anyway. It was a tempting path full of racing hearts and breathless wonder, but he wasn’t going to run down it again.
Malcolm went to the desert table, selected the most recognizable foods, and went back upstairs to let trouble happen without him.