Page 59 of The Succubi's Choice

Lundy’s waitingfor her in his little minivan, and Miri considers running in the opposite direction and just...going away. Running to a different city, drain her bank account, jump on a train. Live in Arizona for a month.

But instead she just opens the side door, and is confronted with the amazing sound of a crying baby, and Lundy leaning over and fussing over the car seat.

She freezes, staring up at him, still feeling partially hungover, before Lundy grimaces at her.

“Please tell me you’re not bringing a baby into a bar,” she says.

“This is why I can’t go with you to testing,” he says as she climbs in. “His mother had him all last night and I was supposed to —" He trails off, dangerously close to revealing personal information, before he twists back around and buckles himself back in.

“Is this all my fault?” Miri quips, twisting the heater on again. “Cause this feels like another thing that’s my fault.”

“It’s partially your fault,” Lundy says, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

Miri falls silent, to just the sound of the fussy baby in the backseat, as he drives her directly to a high-class hotel. The sort with a bar, with lonely businessmen and tired city commuters, and way more of a wealthy clientele then she usually has access to.

She raises an eyebrow at Lundy, whose hands are still white on the wheel. “I take it you didn’t choose this for me?”

He just shakes his head. “Katya will meet you in a few hours in the downtown offices, Uber there. Or walk, it’s only...three blocks.”

She nods, shrugging out of her work shirt and into a tank top that shows something resembling cleavage, and he obviously looks away. “Good luck taking care of a screaming baby,” she says, sarcastic, but she doesn’t get a reaction.

So she climbs out of the minivan, still feeling a little bit hungover and a little bit underdressed, and walks in.

Thankfully, the bar is full of bored businessmen in suits, sitting alone and staring at their phones or laptops, with scotches or martinis in front of them. It’s a particularly depressing sort of bar, and she sinks into one of the armchairs to observe. Pick someone out.

There are plenty of pickings, though, and most will probably have hotel rooms, which is generally the easiest way to —

Her view of the bar is blocked, by another man in a suit, and, in the armchair across from her, sits Vincente. From the Organization. Holding a glass of scotch like he belongs.

She blinks at him, then cranes her neck back towards the entrance, which of course is out of sight, then back at him. “Uh, yes?”

He doesn’t say anything, just sips his scotch as if he’s some sort of super villain in a movie about stock brokers.

“Lundy dropped me off,” she says, letting her eyes wander past him and to a tall man leaning against the bar. “He said it was sanctioned.”

Still, he says nothing, and alarms start to go off in her head.

“Here, I can call him, he’ll confirm.” She pulls out her phone, and without breaking a sweat Vincente reaches over and plucks her cell phone out of her hand.

“You don’t need to do that,” he says, pocketing it.

She absolutely doesn’t sink deeper into the armchair, but that’s only out of sheer will. “I’m going to be at the offices in a few hours.”

He shakes his head, and she’s one hundred percent getting supervillain hints from him now, and she wishes she still had her gun in her purse. Not that she would be actually able to use it without the most severe of consequences, but, you know. Security.

She can’t charm her way out of this, either, she realizes with a sinking feeling in her stomach, not without cratering any freedom she may have.

So, her heart starting to pound, she stares at the glass of scotch in his hand. “I’m just here on my normal scheduled feeding. Nothing wrong with that.”

He stands, gesturing for her to follow, and she keeps her ass directly in the seat. “Come with me. Now,” he says, his voice booking no room for argument, and she would absolutely call Lundy for this but…

“I’m not going to sleep with you, that’s very against the rules,” she says. “I’m not...”

“Of course not, but I will report you for being uncooperative if you don’t come with me.” His voice is light, as if it’s amusing, that he has this power over her. That he could compel her to do something like that, with just a few words, and…

She briefly closes her eyes, and another hand on her elbow hauls her up, and there’s another Organization goon there, all of a sudden.

It takes a moment before she jerks back and away, getting her feet underneath herself.

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