White Hot
Page 51
If I tripped now, I would never live it down.
We reached the top and Rogan turned left, away from Baranovsky, and back along the second floor. Ahead an open door led outside to a balcony framed with planters of roses, their fat blossoms a dark red, almost purple. Rogan walked through. The cold evening air washed over us in a rush.
I remembered how to breathe.
“Did you have to be so obvious about it?” I ground out.
“I warned you.” His voice was cold, his face distant. He was looking me over. “You wanted to catch his attention.”
I turned away from him and looked at the garden below. No man should have a garden blooming in winter but somehow Baranovsky had managed. Shrubs with yellow blossoms framed the whorls of garden paths; tall spires of unfamiliar plants with white triangular flowers beckoned; and roses, lots and lots of roses, in every shade from white to red filled the flower beds. Between them small gazebos offered a place to rest and enjoy the view. Bright canvas canopies, triangular and stretched tight into slightly curved shapes, like sails of some galleon, shielded parts of the walkways between them. The rest of the house curved into the distance, hugging the garden’s edge.
Rogan said nothing. Fine. We could just stand here and say nothing.
A gust of wind came. I hugged my cold shoulders. Evening gowns weren’t designed for dramatically running out onto strange balconies in the middle of winter nights.
Rogan pulled off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.
I brushed it away. “Don’t.”
“Nevada, you’re cold.”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s a damn jacket,” he growled.
I squinted at him. “What’s the catch?”
“What?” Irritation vibrated in his voice.
“What’s the catch with the jacket? What will it cost me? You keep chipping away at my independence every time you try to ‘take care’ of me, so I’d rather know the price in advance.”
He swore.
“Colorful, but not very informative.” My teeth chattered. I clamped them together and my knees started shaking. Great.
“Take the jacket.”
“No.”
We stared at each other. It was good that stares weren’t swords or we would’ve had a duel right here on the balcony.
“You can go back now,” I told him. “I’m sure he’ll come and see what all the fuss was about if you leave.”
“I’ll leave when I’m damned good and ready.”
Judging by the set of his jaw, he wouldn’t budge and he was too big for me to shove him off the balcony into the roses down below. Although it would be tempting to try.
“I know about Castra.” Let’s see him deal with that one.
He didn’t react. “How?”
“Augustine made your people during one of the exchanges they secured.”
“Ah.” He grimaced. “Augustine started taking interest in my affairs after Pierce’s idiocy. I’ve invested in a canine unit to account for that possibility. He may change his appearance but he can’t change his scent. It seems I didn’t do it soon enough.”
“What deals do you secure? Who are your clients? Drug dealers? Murderers?”
“Murderers, yes. But only if their name is attached to a House. I’ve never secured a drug transaction. I know of the underworld, and it knows of my people. We pass each other like two strangers on the street, aware but never interacting, and that’s the way I like to keep it.”
True. “Why do you do it?”
“Information,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact. “I exist outside of Prime society by choice, but I know more about them than those who are entrenched in it. Information gives me power, and when necessary, I use it.”
Another gust of wind hit me. If Baranovsky didn’t show up in the next two minutes, I’d freeze to death.
Rogan glanced at the garden. A canvas canopy tore from the rest, shot toward us, and wrapped the balcony on the left side, shielding us from the wind. In response a dark shadow shifted behind the window on the third floor, about five hundred yards from us, across the garden. Rogan’s gaze checked the window and he turned away. He saw it too. We were being watched, probably by someone with a sniper rifle.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about. I refused your jacket, so you went over my head. You aren’t taking my wishes into consideration. At all.”
“You want to be cold?” He stared at me.
“Yes.” And that sounded stupid. I sighed at myself.
“Nevada, we both know that you’re freezing. I can hear your teeth clicking. If you’re doing this to prove a point, I already understand it. This is childish.”
I faced him. “It’s not childish, Connor. You’re trying to take over my life. You do things for me, even when I specifically ask you not to, because you feel you know better. I’m desperately fighting for my independence and my boundaries, because otherwise there will be no me left. There will be just you and I’ll become an accessory.”
Rogan turned and half closed a mirrored door behind us. The glass caught my reflection. The black dress sheathed me like armor. My blond hair crowned my head. The look on my face brought it home: there was something defiant and almost vicious in my eyes. I barely recognized myself.
I didn’t like it.
Rogan moved to stand behind me, his resolute face tinted with regret. “What do you see?”
“I see me in a leased dress.”
“I see a Prime.”
True. He meant it. Breath caught in my throat. Deep down I had known it. I just didn’t want to deal with all the things that title meant.
His voice was quiet. “This isn’t you playing dress-up. This is you, Nevada. This is what you truly are.”
Why did he sound like he was hammering nails into his own coffin?
“You must’ve realized it by now. It can’t be that much of a surprise,” he said, his voice quiet. “Augustine knows it too. He isn’t an idiot. Sooner or later he’ll try to lock you into vassalage. He’ll try to offer you a deal, probably what will seem like a great sum of money attached to handcuffs and a chain. In reality, whatever he offers you will be a pittance. If he could lock you in, your value to House Montgomery would be enormous. Your value to any House would be beyond measure, especially if you don’t know what you are and you submit, allowing yourself to be controlled and used.”
Like offering me over a million dollars to walk away from everything I’d built. My instincts had been right, but the trap did prove so tempting.
Rogan stepped toward me and gently draped the jacket over me. The heavy warm fabric felt heavenly on my icicle shoulders. He loomed behind me, grim and slightly scary.
“Your debts are like this jacket, Nevada. A small favor that costs nothing. You don’t yet realize how infinitesimal their total amount is, because you’re still clinging to the illusion of being ordinary. Soon you’ll make that money in a blink. You’re an emerging Prime and it’s a dangerous time for you. People will use you, manipulate you, pressure you. Everyone will want a piece of you. I simply shielded one of your pressure points until you were ready to shield it on your own.”
If I took everything he said at face value, it meant that he was guarding me. Protecting me. If he expected anything in return, he hasn’t said what it was. But nothing in the world of Primes was free.
We reached the top and Rogan turned left, away from Baranovsky, and back along the second floor. Ahead an open door led outside to a balcony framed with planters of roses, their fat blossoms a dark red, almost purple. Rogan walked through. The cold evening air washed over us in a rush.
I remembered how to breathe.
“Did you have to be so obvious about it?” I ground out.
“I warned you.” His voice was cold, his face distant. He was looking me over. “You wanted to catch his attention.”
I turned away from him and looked at the garden below. No man should have a garden blooming in winter but somehow Baranovsky had managed. Shrubs with yellow blossoms framed the whorls of garden paths; tall spires of unfamiliar plants with white triangular flowers beckoned; and roses, lots and lots of roses, in every shade from white to red filled the flower beds. Between them small gazebos offered a place to rest and enjoy the view. Bright canvas canopies, triangular and stretched tight into slightly curved shapes, like sails of some galleon, shielded parts of the walkways between them. The rest of the house curved into the distance, hugging the garden’s edge.
Rogan said nothing. Fine. We could just stand here and say nothing.
A gust of wind came. I hugged my cold shoulders. Evening gowns weren’t designed for dramatically running out onto strange balconies in the middle of winter nights.
Rogan pulled off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.
I brushed it away. “Don’t.”
“Nevada, you’re cold.”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s a damn jacket,” he growled.
I squinted at him. “What’s the catch?”
“What?” Irritation vibrated in his voice.
“What’s the catch with the jacket? What will it cost me? You keep chipping away at my independence every time you try to ‘take care’ of me, so I’d rather know the price in advance.”
He swore.
“Colorful, but not very informative.” My teeth chattered. I clamped them together and my knees started shaking. Great.
“Take the jacket.”
“No.”
We stared at each other. It was good that stares weren’t swords or we would’ve had a duel right here on the balcony.
“You can go back now,” I told him. “I’m sure he’ll come and see what all the fuss was about if you leave.”
“I’ll leave when I’m damned good and ready.”
Judging by the set of his jaw, he wouldn’t budge and he was too big for me to shove him off the balcony into the roses down below. Although it would be tempting to try.
“I know about Castra.” Let’s see him deal with that one.
He didn’t react. “How?”
“Augustine made your people during one of the exchanges they secured.”
“Ah.” He grimaced. “Augustine started taking interest in my affairs after Pierce’s idiocy. I’ve invested in a canine unit to account for that possibility. He may change his appearance but he can’t change his scent. It seems I didn’t do it soon enough.”
“What deals do you secure? Who are your clients? Drug dealers? Murderers?”
“Murderers, yes. But only if their name is attached to a House. I’ve never secured a drug transaction. I know of the underworld, and it knows of my people. We pass each other like two strangers on the street, aware but never interacting, and that’s the way I like to keep it.”
True. “Why do you do it?”
“Information,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact. “I exist outside of Prime society by choice, but I know more about them than those who are entrenched in it. Information gives me power, and when necessary, I use it.”
Another gust of wind hit me. If Baranovsky didn’t show up in the next two minutes, I’d freeze to death.
Rogan glanced at the garden. A canvas canopy tore from the rest, shot toward us, and wrapped the balcony on the left side, shielding us from the wind. In response a dark shadow shifted behind the window on the third floor, about five hundred yards from us, across the garden. Rogan’s gaze checked the window and he turned away. He saw it too. We were being watched, probably by someone with a sniper rifle.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about. I refused your jacket, so you went over my head. You aren’t taking my wishes into consideration. At all.”
“You want to be cold?” He stared at me.
“Yes.” And that sounded stupid. I sighed at myself.
“Nevada, we both know that you’re freezing. I can hear your teeth clicking. If you’re doing this to prove a point, I already understand it. This is childish.”
I faced him. “It’s not childish, Connor. You’re trying to take over my life. You do things for me, even when I specifically ask you not to, because you feel you know better. I’m desperately fighting for my independence and my boundaries, because otherwise there will be no me left. There will be just you and I’ll become an accessory.”
Rogan turned and half closed a mirrored door behind us. The glass caught my reflection. The black dress sheathed me like armor. My blond hair crowned my head. The look on my face brought it home: there was something defiant and almost vicious in my eyes. I barely recognized myself.
I didn’t like it.
Rogan moved to stand behind me, his resolute face tinted with regret. “What do you see?”
“I see me in a leased dress.”
“I see a Prime.”
True. He meant it. Breath caught in my throat. Deep down I had known it. I just didn’t want to deal with all the things that title meant.
His voice was quiet. “This isn’t you playing dress-up. This is you, Nevada. This is what you truly are.”
Why did he sound like he was hammering nails into his own coffin?
“You must’ve realized it by now. It can’t be that much of a surprise,” he said, his voice quiet. “Augustine knows it too. He isn’t an idiot. Sooner or later he’ll try to lock you into vassalage. He’ll try to offer you a deal, probably what will seem like a great sum of money attached to handcuffs and a chain. In reality, whatever he offers you will be a pittance. If he could lock you in, your value to House Montgomery would be enormous. Your value to any House would be beyond measure, especially if you don’t know what you are and you submit, allowing yourself to be controlled and used.”
Like offering me over a million dollars to walk away from everything I’d built. My instincts had been right, but the trap did prove so tempting.
Rogan stepped toward me and gently draped the jacket over me. The heavy warm fabric felt heavenly on my icicle shoulders. He loomed behind me, grim and slightly scary.
“Your debts are like this jacket, Nevada. A small favor that costs nothing. You don’t yet realize how infinitesimal their total amount is, because you’re still clinging to the illusion of being ordinary. Soon you’ll make that money in a blink. You’re an emerging Prime and it’s a dangerous time for you. People will use you, manipulate you, pressure you. Everyone will want a piece of you. I simply shielded one of your pressure points until you were ready to shield it on your own.”
If I took everything he said at face value, it meant that he was guarding me. Protecting me. If he expected anything in return, he hasn’t said what it was. But nothing in the world of Primes was free.
