White Hot
Page 67
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” Melosa asked. I had found her waiting by the car when I left the house. She’d insisted on coming with me and considering the hot water we were in, I would’ve been an idiot to say no.
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” Her tone plainly said she didn’t approve but she couldn’t do anything about it.
I walked into the familiar ultramodern lobby and took the elevator to the seventeenth floor. The gleaming stainless tube desk that served as Lina’s workspace stood empty and her purse wasn’t on the chair. Augustine’s secretary was out. That was okay; I remembered the way to his office well enough. I walked through the vast space, a sloping expanse of blue windows on my left and frosty white interior walls on my right. I was in the corner of the shark fin, in Augustine’s lair, and House Montgomery spared no expense in creating its elegance. It always felt slightly sterile to me, too clean, too devoid of personal touches, but the view was breathtaking. During the day the glass tinted the office a gentle blue, as if you were at the bottom of a shallow sea, but at night the glass melted into the darkness, all but disappearing, and the city spread below, bottomless and glowing with lights.
Ahead a wall loomed, frosted with feathery white. A section of the glass had been pushed aside, and through the gap I saw Augustine at his desk, reading something on his tablet. I reached the door.
“Come in,” he invited without raising his head.
I stepped into the office and sat. He kept reading. Augustine was reminding me he was my boss.
Gently, softly, I let my magic out. It began to grow through the office, spreading in thin tendrils, branching and growing, like the roots of some massive tree. I held it back, letting it barely creep forward. I had to take my time.
Finally, Augustine raised his head.
“I had a few questions about my contract,” I said.
Surprise flickered in his eyes and turned into speculation. He put two and two together. The impending arrival of Victoria Tremaine scared me and I was considering picking up his option of a decade of servitude in return for the protection of House Montgomery.
“Very well. I’ll do my best to answer.”
I pulled out a printed contract and a camera. Augustine’s eyebrows rose.
“I prefer to do it on paper, so I can write notes,” I said. “And I would like to record our conversation, if you don’t mind.”
“I should be insulted that you believe me capable of going back on my word, but I suppose I’ll compliment you on your prudence instead. Let’s begin.”
I pushed the record button on the camera. “Paragraph I, ‘in the interests of House goodwill.’ Could you give me more details on the specifics of goodwill? It’s rather vague as written.”
“The goodwill of a House is a layered concept. On one hand it represents the relationships House Montgomery has with its customers and clients. Such goodwill is evidenced by repeat contracts with existing clients and referrals to new clients. A less specific aspect of House goodwill involves our reputation, name, and location. House Montgomery stands for confidentiality. We’re a local House with solid ties to the community and a proven history. In our line of business, trust is essential, and as a House Montgomery vassal, you will be held to a high standard . . .”
My magic crept forward. I asked a question, he offered an answer, each exchange reinforcing the pattern, and with each answer I claimed a little more of him, until he was completely shrouded in my power.
“Paragraph V, ‘financially labeled.’ What does that mean?”
“Where?” Augustine scrolled on his tablet.
“Here.” I offered him a piece of paper and let my magic spread a little more. The more I distracted him, the better.
He focused on the paragraph, his lips moving silently. “It’s a typo. It should say financially liable.” He grimaced. “My apologies.”
“No problem.” I corrected the right paragraph.
“I detest sloppiness. I’ve stressed it before that a spell check is no substitute for human attention. The more eyes reviewing the contract the better.”
He was volunteering information he didn’t have to disclose. He was ready and I couldn’t keep him here indefinitely. Now or never.
“How will I be compensated for my services?”
Augustine opened his mouth.
I gave him a slight nudge.
“By direct deposit into your bank account.”
“What bank would that transfer be coming from?”
“First House.”
“Could you tell me the routing and account number?”
This was a gamble. If he needed to look that up, he might pause. But Augustine was almost pedantic in his attention to detail.
“Certainly.” He named the two strings of numbers. I wrote them down.
“Do you access that account online?”
“Yes.”
“What is your username and banking password?”
“JulienMont. LoT45B9!n.”
“Who is Julien?”
“I am. It’s my middle name. I quite detest it.”
“Paragraph XII, line three guarantees me three weeks of paid leave. Can I take them at once or separately?”
“Whatever way you choose.”
I began pulling my magic back. Two more questions, and I released him completely. Augustine was frowning. He must’ve felt something, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“I believe that covers everything,” he said finally. “All that remains is your signature.”
I leaned back. “I won’t be signing the contract, Augustine.”
He stared at me. “That’s a mistake. Did Rogan make a better offer?”
I shook my head. “No. This has nothing to do with Rogan. We both know what you’re offering me is a disproportionately small compensation to my ability to aid your House. I understand where you’re coming from. Having a vassal Prime would be a great asset to House Montgomery.”
His eyes narrowed. “You believe you’re a Prime?”
“It would save some time for the purposes of this discussion if you treated me like one.” Maybe he would listen to me. Maybe I could convince him and then I would take my camera and he would never have to confront what was on it.
A condescending smile played on his lips. “I’ll humor you. Go on.”
“Tomorrow Victoria Tremaine will walk into your office. She’ll crack your mind like a walnut. There is nothing you can do to stop it. If she chooses to be subtle, she’ll leave you with the capacity to reason. If she doesn’t like the way you look, the cut of your suit, or the color of your office walls, she’ll lobotomize you.”
Augustine’s eyes narrowed. He took off his glasses. “This is adorable.”
Nope. We’d have to do this the hard way.
“I was attempting to be magnanimous in my offer. Thus far, I have been exceedingly patient,” he continued. “You did show me the error of my ways, so let me give you this last bit of advice free. You spent some time in Rogan’s and my own company, and you believe you know how things between Houses operate, so you presume to take it upon yourself to explain it to me as if our roles were reversed and I was an ignorant dilettante.”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” Her tone plainly said she didn’t approve but she couldn’t do anything about it.
I walked into the familiar ultramodern lobby and took the elevator to the seventeenth floor. The gleaming stainless tube desk that served as Lina’s workspace stood empty and her purse wasn’t on the chair. Augustine’s secretary was out. That was okay; I remembered the way to his office well enough. I walked through the vast space, a sloping expanse of blue windows on my left and frosty white interior walls on my right. I was in the corner of the shark fin, in Augustine’s lair, and House Montgomery spared no expense in creating its elegance. It always felt slightly sterile to me, too clean, too devoid of personal touches, but the view was breathtaking. During the day the glass tinted the office a gentle blue, as if you were at the bottom of a shallow sea, but at night the glass melted into the darkness, all but disappearing, and the city spread below, bottomless and glowing with lights.
Ahead a wall loomed, frosted with feathery white. A section of the glass had been pushed aside, and through the gap I saw Augustine at his desk, reading something on his tablet. I reached the door.
“Come in,” he invited without raising his head.
I stepped into the office and sat. He kept reading. Augustine was reminding me he was my boss.
Gently, softly, I let my magic out. It began to grow through the office, spreading in thin tendrils, branching and growing, like the roots of some massive tree. I held it back, letting it barely creep forward. I had to take my time.
Finally, Augustine raised his head.
“I had a few questions about my contract,” I said.
Surprise flickered in his eyes and turned into speculation. He put two and two together. The impending arrival of Victoria Tremaine scared me and I was considering picking up his option of a decade of servitude in return for the protection of House Montgomery.
“Very well. I’ll do my best to answer.”
I pulled out a printed contract and a camera. Augustine’s eyebrows rose.
“I prefer to do it on paper, so I can write notes,” I said. “And I would like to record our conversation, if you don’t mind.”
“I should be insulted that you believe me capable of going back on my word, but I suppose I’ll compliment you on your prudence instead. Let’s begin.”
I pushed the record button on the camera. “Paragraph I, ‘in the interests of House goodwill.’ Could you give me more details on the specifics of goodwill? It’s rather vague as written.”
“The goodwill of a House is a layered concept. On one hand it represents the relationships House Montgomery has with its customers and clients. Such goodwill is evidenced by repeat contracts with existing clients and referrals to new clients. A less specific aspect of House goodwill involves our reputation, name, and location. House Montgomery stands for confidentiality. We’re a local House with solid ties to the community and a proven history. In our line of business, trust is essential, and as a House Montgomery vassal, you will be held to a high standard . . .”
My magic crept forward. I asked a question, he offered an answer, each exchange reinforcing the pattern, and with each answer I claimed a little more of him, until he was completely shrouded in my power.
“Paragraph V, ‘financially labeled.’ What does that mean?”
“Where?” Augustine scrolled on his tablet.
“Here.” I offered him a piece of paper and let my magic spread a little more. The more I distracted him, the better.
He focused on the paragraph, his lips moving silently. “It’s a typo. It should say financially liable.” He grimaced. “My apologies.”
“No problem.” I corrected the right paragraph.
“I detest sloppiness. I’ve stressed it before that a spell check is no substitute for human attention. The more eyes reviewing the contract the better.”
He was volunteering information he didn’t have to disclose. He was ready and I couldn’t keep him here indefinitely. Now or never.
“How will I be compensated for my services?”
Augustine opened his mouth.
I gave him a slight nudge.
“By direct deposit into your bank account.”
“What bank would that transfer be coming from?”
“First House.”
“Could you tell me the routing and account number?”
This was a gamble. If he needed to look that up, he might pause. But Augustine was almost pedantic in his attention to detail.
“Certainly.” He named the two strings of numbers. I wrote them down.
“Do you access that account online?”
“Yes.”
“What is your username and banking password?”
“JulienMont. LoT45B9!n.”
“Who is Julien?”
“I am. It’s my middle name. I quite detest it.”
“Paragraph XII, line three guarantees me three weeks of paid leave. Can I take them at once or separately?”
“Whatever way you choose.”
I began pulling my magic back. Two more questions, and I released him completely. Augustine was frowning. He must’ve felt something, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“I believe that covers everything,” he said finally. “All that remains is your signature.”
I leaned back. “I won’t be signing the contract, Augustine.”
He stared at me. “That’s a mistake. Did Rogan make a better offer?”
I shook my head. “No. This has nothing to do with Rogan. We both know what you’re offering me is a disproportionately small compensation to my ability to aid your House. I understand where you’re coming from. Having a vassal Prime would be a great asset to House Montgomery.”
His eyes narrowed. “You believe you’re a Prime?”
“It would save some time for the purposes of this discussion if you treated me like one.” Maybe he would listen to me. Maybe I could convince him and then I would take my camera and he would never have to confront what was on it.
A condescending smile played on his lips. “I’ll humor you. Go on.”
“Tomorrow Victoria Tremaine will walk into your office. She’ll crack your mind like a walnut. There is nothing you can do to stop it. If she chooses to be subtle, she’ll leave you with the capacity to reason. If she doesn’t like the way you look, the cut of your suit, or the color of your office walls, she’ll lobotomize you.”
Augustine’s eyes narrowed. He took off his glasses. “This is adorable.”
Nope. We’d have to do this the hard way.
“I was attempting to be magnanimous in my offer. Thus far, I have been exceedingly patient,” he continued. “You did show me the error of my ways, so let me give you this last bit of advice free. You spent some time in Rogan’s and my own company, and you believe you know how things between Houses operate, so you presume to take it upon yourself to explain it to me as if our roles were reversed and I was an ignorant dilettante.”
