Page 49 of The Royal Street Witch
His feet are propped on the other side of Nicola’s desk, his hair in a low ponytail at the base of his neck, and he’s scrolling through his phone without looking up. I set my bag next to his boots, but he doesn’t falter—his burgundy vest adorns his ethereal body, a handsome vampire whose bad side I am on.
“My pockets are glad I didn’t have to rush the order,” Nicola quips as she writes in her log.
Cassius groans, still not acknowledging me, and I want to respond to Nicola’s dig, but instead I pull the sleeping potions from my bag and place them on the desk.
“How’s your mother?” Nicola asks, her need to create bogus small talk grating.
“Enjoying her time in Prague.”
“Her Instagram post said she was in France.” Nicola stands with a phony sympathetic look on her face.
Dear Lord, why does my mother have to flaunt her shit on Instagram?
“She’s still very much the Wild Witch,” I spout as there’s a knock on the door. “I never know where she’ll end up.” I almost whisper it now, as the door slowly opens.
“Mother?” Bastian says but looks right at me as I bite my bottom lip. God, suits seem like they were designed with him in mind. Lean torsos and long legs, always a vision in black.
“Yes, love?” she says, looking at him with adoration in her eyes.
“Hello, Aster,” he says, buttoning his coat, and I jut my chin in his direction because hearing him say my name so seriously makes every vein want to burst.
“Hello,” I say and look back to Nicola.
He slides up to Nicola and in a serious tone says, “Franklin is here.” His eyes dart to me, then back to his mother in a tense exchange.
“Franklin?” She looks surprised, put off. “What?”
It takes me a moment to recognize his name, and I look to Cassius for any kind of reaction. He shrugs at his mother and brother then looks back to his phone. Franklin, The Vampire King, is here for an unexpected visit.
“I can finish up with Cassius,” Bastian says, staring at his brother, whose disdain is obvious.
Vampires will never allow a witch to be alone with them during a business transaction—something I’m suddenly grateful for. Cassius alone with me wouldn’t be ideal right now.
“Money’s behind the desk, count the potions,” Nicola says, turning to me. “Thank you for your services.” She leaves the room with a sense of urgency.
Bastian walks behind Nicola’s desk and my hand is restless, opening and closing over and over as he counts each small bottle. When he’s done, his eyes lift to meet mine and he steals a wink before placing the potions into a cupboard along the wall. He pulls the usual bag out from under the desk and slides it over to me.
“You know what’s funny?” Cassius says, his voice soft, gaze still connected to his phone screen. “That you drank a potion constructed by a witch that made a deal with you behind the back of her coven. A witch that betrays the trust of her own kind. All that female empowerment, and she’s actually a traitor to her fellow females.”
My fingers sprawl out while Cassius finally looks at me. I choose my words carefully. I don’t want a fight with Cassius, but I won’t show weakness either.
“I’m not a traitor, I’m a survivor.”
Cassius’s feet fall to the floor with a thump, and Bastian rounds the desk to stand between us.
“You know nothing of survival,” Cassius groans and stands.
“You know nothing about me. I have no regrets for creating the potion, just who I created it for.”
“Aster,” Bastian says, giving the faintest shake of his head.
I scrunch my lips and tighten my jaw in defiance.
“Oh, was that me? Did I foil your little plan?” Cassius slides around Bastian so that he’s no longer separating us.
“The whole plan was for you!” I seethe at his audacity.
“Let it go, Aster. This is not the place for a fight.” Bastian looks at me with a vulnerability in his eyes, and I take a step back.
