Page 137 of Pervade London
Not once had I ever considered the possibility that I’d be strolling along these lofty corridors one day, peering up in awe at the spectacularly designed interior.
And certainly not like this—wearing a sleek blue Chanel business suit, high-heels, and a short-bobbed wig. They’d dressed me in a disguise.
Ballad didn’t want anyone to see the real me, apparently. I looked like his secretary walking beside him, carrying two folders to round out the executive assistant feel.
From the outside, Parliament was gorgeous with its triple towers, gothic architecture, and sprawling structure that included the House of Commons and the House of Lords.But it earned its palace status on the inside, too.
James led the way through the impressive lobby. Together, we continued into a familiar room—one I’d seen on TV but never really paid attention to before, since it was in huge contrast to my simple world. This was the House of Lords.
The policeman who permitted our entry had given us a cursory nod of permission to go in. We found ourselves alone in the lavishly decorated chamber.
The massive door closed behind us with a deep thud.
Red studded leather seats circled the center stage—fit for the bums of Britain’s elite who scrutinized the Bills brought into being by the House of Commons, a stone’s throw away. The men and women who’d found themselves a place here had inherited one of these lofty seats. That was pretty much all I knew.
Peering up at the ornate ceiling, I admired the grandness of the paneled compartments showing ancient emblems. The stained-glass windows offered intricately colored patterns. Shades of red and gold drenched us in soft bronzed light.
“Wow.” My voice echoed as I turned in a circle to take it all in.
“That’s where the Queen sits.” James pointed to a majestic throne. “During the state opening of Parliament when she delivers her speech.”
“Can I sit there?”
“No.” He smirked and gestured to a long red seat. “Sit there.”
I wanted to open the folders I was holding and have a peek inside—the same ones he’d told me not to look at under any circumstances. Fingering the edge, my imagination ran wild with what information it might contain. Maybe it was merely a prop for a well-healed secretary, or maybe it was a test to see if I obeyed and didn’t sneak a peek.
James closed the gap between us and towered over me. “I’m going to give youthetalk.”
Crooking my neck to look up at him, I tried to interpret his words.
“There’s a car waiting for you. The driver has been instructed to escort you to a safe place.”
“What is this?”
“Xavier and I believe that with him present, you feel pressured to stay.”
“James—”
“I need you to listen. To understand that if you stay, even though it may be temporary, anything you see or hear must remain confidential.”
“I can do that.”
He knelt before me. “Emily, the danger’s real. It’s as insidious as it is unpredictable.”
“What are you saying?”
“If you stay there’ll be consequences. Lives will be threatened. Lives—including yours—will change beyond all understanding.”
“How would that be my fault?”
“Because of your association to me…to us. That’s why you’ve been disguised.”
“I’ll be careful.”
He studied my face, looking unconvinced.
My eyes pleaded with him. “I want to stay.”
