by Juniper Hart
Tobias had plagued her dreams, his eyes boring into hers in sleep like they had in her wakeful hours. He propped himself up on the bed and reached for his pants, casting her a lopsided grin.
“I have to go,” he told her. “But I’ll be back soon.”
“You better,” she murmured dreamily, her body still enshrouded in bliss as she fell back asleep. When she opened her eyes fully, she realized that it had not been a dream and that she lay alone in her bed.
Tobias was gone.
She tried to remember anything he may have said, but it was still hazy, her mind still caught in the fog of eroticism from the night before.
He’ll be back, Sierra told herself, rising to greet the day with coffee. She was surprisingly worse for wear, considering how little she had drunk. A smile still touched her lips as she remembered the vigorous training exercises Tobias had put her through. Her hangover was less alcohol induced and more recovery from what she’d endured.
But as the coffee pot fell empty again and the sun rose on the filthy streets of South Park, a dark, ominous cloud rolled through to blot its rays from casting the weakest spot of hope that Tobias was coming back. He hadn’t gone out to get them breakfast. He wasn’t running to the office.
He’s not coming back.
By nightfall, the storm had rolled in, dumping rain onto the soggy dumpsters below, and Sierra was beyond concerned, her natural cynicism returning. Although the truth was a bitter pill to swallow, she was a big girl, even if she had been caught up in the charms of an immortal player.
She felt like a fool, but Sierra Collingwood was not one to lie down and cry about her losses. She would move on her with life.
Over time, she would forget about Tobias, regardless of how devastated she might be.
2
Three Years Later
Toby rubbed his temples at the hairline, the gentle throb of a headache starting at the forehead and pulsating around to taunt his neck.
“Boss, you need to—”
“Shane, you need to stop talking,” he interrupted, cringing at the mere sound of his right hand’s voice. It was shrill and oddly deceiving for such an intimidating man, yet after thousands of years, Toby had never quite learned to tune it out, despite his best efforts. He liked Shane, his work, and his loyalty, but his voice—well, it was far too high for a bear of any standing, much less one who held such an important title.
I wonder if he’s ever considered voice lessons, Toby mused, not for the first time. But even he wasn’t a big enough prick to suggest something like that to him.
“Yes, boss,” Shane replied meekly, stepping back, and Toby sensed his thoughts had been heard. Not that he’d made an effort to hide them. As usual, all hell was breaking out, and Toby was left to sort through the mess both on his desk and in his lair.
“Where is Cheryl?” he asked after a moment of scanning the paperwork in his midst.
“I’m not sure, boss. Maybe in the front room?” Shane suggested.
Toby ran his hand through his mop of curls, trying to stifle his annoyance.
“Go and find her,” he grunted through clenched teeth.
Shane nodded his bird-like head, his neck popping back and forth like a chicken, before disappearing from the inner office. That left Toby alone to think about the convoluted disaster his life had become.
With great power comes great responsibility, he thought, though he could not remember which jerk he was quoting. There were just so many from whom to choose, so many mortals with memorable quips but no solutions. No, it is up to the Enchanted to figure everything out while the mortals write poems and the minstrels sing about us.
Shane returned a moment later, Cheryl in tow. “Yes, Mr. Sutton?”
“Our stock just plunged because of that whistleblower report,” Toby informed her. He noted she maintained the same bored look as always, like his words were neither new nor important to her life in that moment.
“I heard,” she conceded. Toby grimaced, wondering if she had known well before everything hit the fan. It wouldn’t be the first time his staff had kept information from him, fearing his sometimes “shoot the messenger” approach to bad tidings.
My temper is no excuse for them to withhold information. Someone should have told me something. Someone should have seen this coming. What do I pay these bastards for?
“Well, maybe you could go ahead and schedule a meeting with PR and legal,” he growled sarcastically. “If that’s not distracting you from your Solitaire game.”
Cheryl’s eyes flashed, and Toby felt better, knowing he had evoked some reaction from her. He knew that she worked hard, or else she wouldn’t be employed at Sutton Industries. That didn’t give her a break from his sharp criticisms, however. Cheryl, Shane—they were all held to the same high standard that he expected of himself, regardless of their rank and role in his life. They couldn’t work for Tobias Sutton if they couldn’t stand the heat. And if they didn’t like it, they knew where the door was.
“Of course, Mr. Sutton. Anything else?” Cheryl asked crisply, her contempt thinly veiled as she spoke.
Anything else? he wanted to rage. Everything is going to shit because my former assistant can’t handle rejection. My company’s reputation is on the line, and my minions in the underworld are giving me grief. Yes, there is a lot else, Cheryl.
But there was nothing else Cheryl could do for him, and yelling at her wouldn’t help matters in the least, tempting as it might be.
“Sir?” Cheryl asked again, barely concealing her impatience to leave.
“No, that’s all for now.” He waved a hand dismissively, and she spun on a matte heel to leave.
Toby knew that it wasn’t Cheryl’s fault he was on a rampage that day. Not that it had ever stopped him from taking out his frustrations on his unsuspecting staff before.
“Okay, no, you can tell me about Helios,” Toby sighed, not really wanting to hear anything else. It was only eight-thirty in the morning, and he wanted to start drinking already. Oh, how he longed for the sixties. Or even the Victorian era. There was no shame in day drinking back then.
“It’s nothing more than rumors right now,” Shane explained. “I can’t even guarantee he’s in America, let alone in Seattle.”
“Rumors start from somewhere,” Toby said. “Last we heard, he was in Oregon. There is talk that he has followers, demons, no less. I wish I knew where he was heading next. Find out what you can about him. Put ears out in South Park. In fact, anywhere with Enchanted presence, get ears. I don’t want this bastard slipping away again. I have no idea what Veriday is doing, if he’s not getting ahead of this mess. I mean, he has the entire backing of the Council.”
Shane didn’t seem to know how to respond to him, and Toby grunted again. “Get to it!”
“Of course, boss,” Shane said, seeming grateful that he had gotten off so lightly.
A flash of guilt slid through Toby as he watched the wiry giant slink out to obey his orders.
Maybe I’m too hard on all of them, he thought, but he dismissed the idea immediately. He had not gotten where he was by relenting and allowing pity to dictate his actions. It had taken hundreds of years to build the life he had for himself in Seattle, one which had become the envy of all his counterparts, Enchanted and mortal. The twenty-six-thousand-square-foot mansion on Lake Washington, the sixteen luxury cars, the four yachts, and the three summer homes—they had been won with hard work and determination, not with showing mercy and accepting half-measures.
It didn’t much matter to Toby that he was regarded as a tyrant by his mortal counterparts. They did not know the truth about him, the humans oblivious to the creatures with whom they wandered the earth. Not that the immortals did much to hide their existence. The humans were simply too narcissistic to see that their CEOs, their doctors, their lawyers, and mobsters were all the beings they warned their children about in fairy tales and folklore.
From where do they think those stories came? Toby often wondered, bu
t he didn’t spend a lot of time pondering the psyche of the mortals. The fact that they had no idea about the Enchanted was supposed to work to his advantage, yet sometimes, hiding who he was from the world took more out of him than running his business and leading his pack.
The phone on Toby’s desk was ringing again, shattering his pensive look into his own history. Toby scowled, his dark eyebrows furrowing as he was dropped back into his current reality. He had left explicit instructions with his secretary not to be disturbed.
“What?” he snapped into his headset.
“Mr. Sutton, this is Lisa Medina of the Seattle Post. Do you have any comment about—”
Toby disconnected the call, longing for the days of slamming down the telephone for effect. Simply hanging up did not get the point across with nearly enough panache. The vultures smelled blood in the water.
Great. Now I’m mixing metaphors.
The phone rang again. Toby ignored it, rising from his leather chair to stare out the window, his mind whirling.
The view from the forty-second floor was spectacular and all his to enjoy. There was a reason he had opted for such a place with the world at his fingertips. He always felt that much closer to the heavens when he was up there.
Sutton Industries owned the structure, and Toby himself took the top two floors exclusively for his private offices. He had turned one floor into a penthouse-style apartment for nights when he was too tired to make his way back to his estate in Madison Park or simply entertaining one of his meaningless side chicks. Not that there was a main chick. There just wasn’t any time for that, not when his life was a constant tornado of chaos. Moreover, Toby didn’t want anyone to know too much about his real home, a guarded fortress with an even more stunning view than the one from his offices.
And there was no one he had met in a long while who was worthy of seeing that view.
Was he holding out for her? Was that why he didn’t bother to try even a little bit with any of them?
Although it was another overcast day, the feeling of comfort the rain usually brought with it did not touch Toby that morning. His nerves were taut, a sensation he was not in the habit of feeling, and he did not like it one bit. If the matter within the company was not bad enough, there was trouble brewing with an enemy he had almost forgotten.
Helios, his greatest nemesis, had apparently returned from the bowels of whatever godforsaken country he had lived in for the past centuries and was threatening a takeover.
It was his own fault, Toby reasoned. He had known that eventually, the prodigal demon would return. But so much time had gone by, so much had happened, Toby had become cocky and comfortable in his ways. He’d made excuses. Helios wouldn’t come after him. Helios had way more important matters to worry about than old business with Tobias, didn’t he?
When the unsettling rumors had begun to reach his ears, though, Toby knew he was going to have problems, sooner or later. And now, it looked like Helios was in his neighborhood.
But why? Why is he here? For me, or for someone else? Certainly, the demon had scores to settle on all fronts, but him being so close alarmed Toby more than he cared to admit.
Knowing that there was a potential demon army backing Helios only fueled his concern.
Why was he wasting time thinking about Helios? He had far more pressing matters to deal with.
You’re getting ahead of yourself, Toby thought, shaking his head with annoyance. You’re not even sure if Helios is here. And if he is, he might not even want anything to do with you. First, focus on the company. That is in your face right now. Later, if it comes to that, you can deal with Helios.
Again, the phone on his desk rang, but before he could reach forward to mute it, there was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” he grumbled. Cheryl reappeared with two people behind her. “I see you found PR and legal,” he commented, silencing the ringing phone on his desk. “Is McKenzie at her desk out there?”
“Yes, Mr. Sutton,” Cheryl answered, raising an eyebrow in question. “Why?”
Toby glowered at her. “Tell her if one more call comes through this line, she can find another job.”
“Yes, Mr. Sutton,” Cheryl intoned, turning away, and Toby suddenly realized she annoyed him just as much as Shane.
It’s my fate to be surrounded by shifters who drive me crazy. Maybe it’s karma. He turned to address the two latest clowns who had joined him in the office.
“Close the door,” Toby instructed, and the attorney obliged.
Sandrine Costanzo was a shrewd lawyer, one who had fought against the supreme court several times and won. She was a wolf shifter and, by default, wary of Toby, who held more power than her in every respect. She was also head of his legal department.
Paul Makowsinski was a mortal, a Type-A hipster who had driven Toby crazy from the second he was hired. But the man was a PR genius—when he was actually working. It seemed to Toby that Paul spent more time on Instagram than he did on the job. He was beginning to believe that if Paul could upload his conscious brain, he would do it so he could escape spending any physical time in the office.
“We have quite a shitshow on our hands,” Paul commented, strolling in, stroking his salt and pepper beard thoughtfully, as if it somehow made him appear more intelligent. “A real shitshow.”
“And why do we have a shitshow on our hands?” Toby snapped. “Your job is to ensure shit like this doesn’t happen.”
“Actually, your job is to make sure this doesn’t happen,” Sandrine replied, interjecting before Paul could defend himself. Toby grunted. He should have known better than to call them both into the office together. He would always be outnumbered. “Well?” Sandrine insisted. “Don’t you have anything to say about this?”
Toby glared at her. “She’s a woman scorned!”
“She’s more than that now,” Sandrine said dryly.
“She wanted to screw me, and I guess she got her way.”
Sandrine’s mouth puckered into a scowl, and Toby could see that she didn’t believe him. It infuriated him. Despite his reputation as a hard ass, he had never been known as a womanizer, no matter how much the tabloids tried to pass him off as one. Sandrine should believe him. She’d known him forever.
“You never had any sort of relationship with that woman?” she asked, slinking across the room toward the desk and perching on the edge of a post-modern chair of white leather. Her delicate blonde brow raised skeptically, but Toby shook his head in vehement denial.
“Of course not!” he exclaimed. “Don’t you think I would have said something to you if I had?”
Her brow raised higher, and her dubiousness was almost palpable. “Not a date? A kiss? Something that might have been misconstrued—”
“No! Nothing!” Toby threw his hands up in exasperation. “Why won’t you believe me? It’s not like I have a documented history of sordid backroom affairs.”
“Not documented,” Paul agreed. Toby shot daggers out of his eyes at the head of public relations. Paul balked slightly and wisely looked away.
Sandrine stifled a sigh and sat back, folding her arms over her chest.
“I don’t want to find out we have some Bill Clinton semantics shit coming up ahead of us, Toby. If something happened—anything at all—I need to know. Now. Not tomorrow. Not next week, and not on Twitter. Now.”
“I never touched her,” he growled, and he meant it.
It was not that Catherine Parks wasn’t attractive. In fact, she would likely have not been hired if she hadn’t been so sparkling and fresh out of college. Sutton Industries prided itself on hiring the best of the best, even from a physical standpoint.
But hiring was the job of human resources, not his. He had his hands full with a thousand other tasks, both inside his posh offices and in the back alleys of Seattle. He had nothing to do with why Catherine Parks had come to work so closely with him over the past years. Toby knew much better than to mix business with pleasure, and he had not made an exception for
the deceivingly sweet-face, raven-haired beauty, no matter how much she had tried to convince him otherwise.
It wasn’t until two weeks after she started working at Sutton that Toby realized that she was coming onto him, and when he rejected her, he made an even more startling finding: she was a demon. Somehow, she had managed to keep her Enchanted status hidden from him. Not that it would have much mattered at the time, but now, Toby found himself wondering if she wasn’t somehow connected to Helios.
How long has he been lurking around?
The worst thing was that with everything happening so intensely and suddenly, Toby was growing paranoid. It wasn’t a flattering trait on him.
The downfall had spiraled very quickly after Toby had rejected Catherine, and in the blink of an eye, there were false reports of illegal transactions and shady dealings within the company. These rumors inspired the FDA, FBI, and Attorney Generals in six of the eight states in which the pharmaceutical giant did business to start poking around.
While Toby had little to worry about, there were always small details which slipped through the cracks in any major corporation, and if the feds were looking for dirt badly enough, they would likely find it. Toby hoped he would not have a great deal of blood on his hands after all was said and done, but if push came to shove, he would do what was required to save his business—which might open the door to an investigation on his side hustle, and if that happened, he would be as good as dead.
Running the Enchanted mob was not something he wanted reported to any mortal law enforcement agency.
Then again, that was why he hired people like Sandrine and Paul—damage control for these pesky situations that always seemed to blindside Toby.
“I have already applied for a gag order,” Sandrine explained. “Catherine Parks has signed an NDA with the company and therefore cannot speak of anything she learned here with the press or law enforcement. If she does, we can sue her for everything she has.”
