Page 11 of Nothing More

Surprise and pleasure colored her face a moment, pinked her cheeks. She smoothed her dress over her thighs, a little self-consciously, he thought. “They were typical businessman wankers, in other words,” she said.

“Da.”

“But do you think they’re…?” She winced, clearly hoping he’d allay the fears she (so far) refused to voice. She’d not been this uncertain when they first met, those whirlwind days working out of the Ritz; the evening when he’d escorted her to Times Square to watch Ian Byron skewer a movie producer with a sword cane on hundreds of billboard screens. She’d been satisfied then, riding the high of victory, of revenge, of taking control back.

But in the weeks since, working as pretend-assistant and real-security, he’d watched her confidence dim…and felt certain it was a rare sight. That she had rarely been so uncertain and frightened. In the small, back part of his hindbrain capable of sympathy, he felt a little sad for her. Raven was a brilliant jewel of a woman – a whole crown studded with them – and watching something that bright grow dull was never fun.

“Do I think they’re Abacus?”

“Or what’s left of it. Or a rival finally stepping into the spotlight.”

He shook his head. “I can’t tell, yet. Every asshole in the city might be trying to take Waverly’s place for all we know.”

She propped an elbow on the arm of the sofa and then propped her temple on her raised fist. “Nowthere’sa cheerful thought.” She sighed. “Oh well. I guess we’ll just have to be cautious.”

Weagain. He wished he didn’t keep noticing that.

“Will you give them an auction prize?” he asked, and found that he was genuinely curious.

Her nose wrinkled daintily. (Adorably.) “Probably.”

He lifted his brows, surprised.

“Oh…” She waved him off. “It’s good exposure for the clothing line. I didn’t get this far in this business saying ‘no’ to opportunities.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“What?” he echoed.

“You don’t approve?”

He grabbed another chocolate and stood. “It doesn’t matter what I think. I’m just here to stab people.”

He turned for the coffee cart, because he wasn’t trying to hide the amount of caffeine he consumed every day.

Behind him, she said, “The worst part is, I don’t think you’re joking.”

He drained the dregs of his paper cup and poured in fresh. “I’m not.”

Four

Cassandra was enrolled in a very exclusive, very expensive performing arts school that Raven had inspected at length before agreeing to her attendance, and been assured by everyone from the headmaster down that the facility was more secure than Fort Knox. The children of celebrities and foreign dignitaries were enrolled there, and so security was takenveryseriously. When she could, Raven picked her up herself, when she couldn’t, Ian did, and then brought her to Intemporelle – which was only two floors down from his offices.

Today, booked solid with meetings, Raven had been stuck at the agency all day. She’d eaten half a spring roll around one, and that was only because Toly had given her thislookwhen the lunch cart was pushed in. She didn’t know what had gotten into him suddenly, with his noticing her coffee intake and calling her on her lack of eating. The nerve of the man…

She’d scowled at him, and taken three large, unladylike bites. “Happy?”

He’d merely stared at her, and let his gaze slide slowly away; had sipped his coffee and not eaten anything himself, and she’d wanted to slap him a little bit.

She drank more coffee, played Boss, and Shoulder to Cry On, and Words of Wisdom, and was a little dizzy and discombobulated when the office door flew open and her little sister came skipping in.

Was it three already?

“You’llneverguess what happened today,” Cassandra said, and slung her bag uncaringly onto the sofa on which Raven had sat for the day’s meetings. One of the buckles pinged off of some part of it and left the fatigue twitch in Raven’s brow pulsing in double time.

“Good afternoon, darling,” Raven said. “How was school?”

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