Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
I stood up on my toes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and looked into his eyes.
He waited for my answer.
I kissed him and whispered, “Yes. The answer is yes.”
Chapter 1
Six months later
Monday morning started badly and only got worse.
On my computer screen, Ruben Hale attempted to glower at me. I gave him my patented Tremaine stare. Sadly, it worked much better in person. Hard to radiate deadly intent over a video chat.
“We will not proceed until the retainer is wired into our account.”
Ruben was in his late fifties, with a bronze complexion, a stocky build, and a heavy jaw. He was also a Significant. In a lot of ways, Significants were harder to deal with than Primes. Primes were like tigers, deadly but conflict averse, because when Primes fought, entire city blocks ended up incinerated. Most Primes considered it beneath them to bully lesser ranked magic users. They took for granted that they would be respected, and they had a reputation to uphold.
The Significants wanted to be Primes. Their abilities placed them above the majority of magic users, but still below that coveted top layer of power. A lot of them felt compelled to throw their weight around to ensure their special status was acknowledged, and they resented Primes, so when an opportunity to safely irritate a Prime presented itself, they pounced on it.
“You listen to me.” Ruben leaned closer to the screen, giving me a stunning view of his nose hair. “I went with you for one reason only. You were cheaper than Montgomery.”
“Cheaper, Mr. Hale. Not free.”
This was one of Alessandro’s cases. Normally he would’ve taken the call, but he was out hunting down Dag Gunderson, another colossal pain in his neck. An alteration mage, Dag had the ability to supercharge missiles with arcane energy. He’d used his talent to settle a personal grudge by turning ordinary hail into an arcane meteor shower and accidentally damaged a municipal building in the process.
The Texas Assembly slapped him with a fine and moved on, anticipating prompt payment. Instead of paying restitution, Gunderson proceeded to evade the authorities, unleashing random bombardments against various targets. The Assembly got fed up with trying to track him down and petitioned Linus for help, who sent Alessandro to take care of it.
The look in Ruben’s eyes told me he was used to bulldozing over people to get his way. I could see why Alessandro held off on doing any actual work until his deposit cleared. As of today, it was six days past due.
“You should be grateful for the work,” Ruben growled.
Raised voices filtered through the glass door and walls into my office. Someone, or probably several someones, was shouting in the conference room. Odd. I couldn’t recall any large problematic meetings scheduled for today.
“Do you even know who you’re talking to?” Ruben demanded.
Apparently, we reached the “how dare you” stage of negotiations. “You signed a contract, Mr. Hale. According to the terms . . .”
“Terms change.”
“Not after you sign them. Perhaps you should look up the definition of a contract.”
Matilda ran past my door, her long dark hair flying, her skinny ten-year-old legs flashing, as she darted by.
“You are lucky to get my business. Apparently, you don’t really want it.”
“Business involves compensation. What you’re asking for is charity.”
Ruben’s eyes went wide. His nostrils flared.
Ragnar sprinted past my office. First Cornelius’ daughter, and now Runa’s brother was involved. What in the world was going on out there?
“Who do you think you are?” Ruben thundered.
“Significant Hale!” I snapped into my Tremaine voice. “Who I am is not in question. My identity as a Prime and Head of my House is a matter of public record. The only thing in doubt is your ability to pay. You have wasted enough of my time. Consider our agreement void.”
“You . . .”
“Take a moment to think and choose your next words very carefully. I have had enough of your posturing. Do not make yourself and your family the focus of my undivided attention.”
His mouth clicked shut. He sat up straighter. “Miss Baylor . . .”
“Prime Baylor.”
“Prime . . .”
I picked up his contract and tore it in two. “Our discussion is concluded.”
He stared at me, shocked.
I ended the call, went to the door, and swung it open. A wave of noise hit me. Several people screamed at once, the chorus of anger and sadness punctuated by a woman sobbing.
I marched down the hall and threw the conference door open. Eight people, four of them middle-aged, sat and crawled on the floor. Matilda and Ragnar stood to the side, looking shell-shocked.
“What’s going on here?”
“She’s gone!” A white man in his sixties moaned at the table, his hand over his eyes. A white woman a few years younger in a mint Chanel suit protectively draped her arms over his shoulders.
“Who is gone?” I demanded.