Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Nadia Scrieva

  And it wasn’t even a complete lie.

  Exhaling slowly, Amara allowed her face to fall forward until her nose and forehead pressed against the cool glass. She closed her eyes, trying to find comfort in the companionship of her mirror-self. She tried not to think about her bulldozer of a mother who had somehow managed to visit every department, every floor, and every janitorial closet in order to pep talk and rally the Kalgren Tech staff to set the wheels of progress back in motion. Rose Kalgren had forced her son and daughter to help her run conference calls with every head office nationwide, in addition to every international office, in just a matter of hours.

  That hadn’t been so bad. Amara had been nervous at first, but she had quickly risen to the challenge, not wanting to be outshone by her CEO brother. Anything that Thorn can do, I can do better, she had assured herself. Now, as she rolled her face back and forth against the glass, she groaned, leaving a smear of foundation and powder on her mirror. The makeup was a crutch, airbrushing her already flawless complexion into further perfection—it made her feel like she was wearing armor which could not be penetrated by the lecherous foreign businessmen. (To her dismay, she had discovered that her telepathy worked across telephones and the internet.) But none of this was the reason for the throbbing in her skull.

  “This year is going to be tough,” Rose Kalgren had said with a sideways glance as the two women strode briskly down the hallway of the eighteenth floor. “The storm has passed, but the mess it left behind will linger long after the lightning. I’m going to need more help from you than usual, sweetie.”

  “Sure, Mom.” Amara was eager to strengthen her ties with her family and reassert her place in the Kalgren dynasty. “I’m all yours. After last night, I can only imagine how much we’re going to be hounded by the press. Anything I can do, anything at all…”

  Rose Kalgren had waved her hand casually. “Not the press, darling. Your brother and I will deal with that. I will need you to take the reins with respect to the Charity Ball. Autumn is fast approaching, and I see an opportunity to really capitalize on recent events… Amara?”

  Only when her mother said her name did she realize that she had stopped walking. She had completely forgotten about the biggest party of the year. With her recent trials in the Pseudosphere and the near-apocalypse that had only just been averted by her best friend, the Thanksgiving celebration had slipped her mind. Her thoughts immediately went to Asher, for he had been her date for the previous five years. Should she ask him to accompany her? Her shoulders broke out into a cold sweat at the thought of being the one to suggest rekindling their dead romance.

  “Are you paying attention?” Rose asked with annoyance. “I am in billions of dollars of debt and we have a lot of ground to cover. Unless you want to be forced into marriage with a vertically-challenged Middle-Eastern prince whose facial grooming suggests similar neglect in his lower regions, you need to help me get this company back on track.”

  Shuddering, Amara grumbled her assent. “Fine. But I don’t see why you’re too proud to ask for government bailouts.”

  “Corporate subsidy, dear,” Rose said sharply. “That’s the term we’re going to use. If offered, we may accept, but we will not depend on their generosity to keep us alive.”

  “And what about Dad?” Amara argued. “Can’t he use his magick to…”

  “Darling, please. I don’t need the interference of an arrogant, narcissistic demigod who will hold it over my head forever.” Rose paused. “What’s wrong, Mara? I thought you would be thrilled about being in charge of the Charity Ball. It’s your favorite event of the year.”

  “It used to be,” Amara answered glumly.

  Now, lifting her face from the mirror she stared at herself with a renewed sense of determination. It used to be, and it still will be! This Thanksgiving, the Kalgren Tech Charity Ball will be better than ever. We have much more to be thankful for than ever before; we still have our lives. And I’m going to ask Ash to be my date! She smiled and nodded, feeling the wave of power that came from being a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. Her smile abruptly disappeared when she remembered that the object of her desire did not desire her. He had once, but something had changed. Maybe I’ll ask Paxie for advice first, she hesitantly reasoned with herself.

  Chapter 2: Orchestra of Thunder

  Amara had found her best friend sleeping blissfully in her brother’s bedroom. She lifted an eyebrow mockingly as she gazed down at the dark-haired woman. Of course. Where else? She moved forward to shake Pax awake, but when her hand descended to the woman’s shoulder, she was startled by a vision.

  Pax coughed as the rusty collar dug into her throat. She tried to bring her hands to her neck to liberate herself, but sturdy metal cuffs restrained her wrists and ankles. She lifted her chin to observe the mob of angry people before her with disbelief.

  “Evil, conniving, cheap slut!”

  “You have been found guilty of conspiring to harm Thorn Kalgren,” said a gruff male voice. “Prepare to suffer the punishment!”

  “I’m sorry,” Pax pleaded as she writhed in the restraints which tightly bound her body to a brick wall. “I never meant him any real physical injury. I just…”

  “You murdered his lover!”

  Pax cringed. This was true, and she had never truly been penalized for this crime. “It was an accident,” she told her accuser. “Manslaughter at the most. I have tried to redeem myself. I risked my own life to save the Earth!”

  “Nothing you can do will bring Pax Burnson back. You destroyed her, and for that, we will destroy you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What?” She suddenly remembered that she had super-strength, and tried harder to break free from the chains. She frowned when her efforts were futile. “I am Pax Burnson. What are you talking about? I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Lying hussy!” screamed a shrill female voice from somewhere in the distance. “Filthy she-demon!”

  “What did Miss Burnson ever do to you?” asked a small child, sobbing from somewhere in the swarm of accusers. “You should pay!”

  Pax could hear the voices, but she could not see the people they belonged to—the horde was too thick. “I’m so confused” she muttered. “What the hell are you people talking about? Look at me. I am Pax!”

  “We understand that you have many delusions, but you are past the point of rehabilitation from insanity. You are too dangerous to be allowed in society. It’s time for your execution.”

  “My... execution?” Pax repeated stupidly.

  “Ready!” shouted a man dressed in military attire. Pax suddenly noticed that she was standing in an empty lot. The area was fenced in by high-voltage and barbed wire precautions as a hundred soldiers with massive machine guns surrounded Pax in a semi-circle. They all moved their weapons to their shoulders.

  “Aim!” The soldiers all simultaneously prepared their weapons, and Pax’s eyes widened. She was going to be executed by a firing squad for a crime she hadn’t committed! There was some mistake.

  “Wait! The bullets won’t scratch me,” she shouted. “I’m a goddess.”

  “Really? A goddess?” the man asked with a scornful laugh as he held his hand up to command his troops. “Do something spectacular. Make an earthquake happen.”

  “It’s not that easy,” Pax said, stuttering. “I’m only a quarter-deva, really.”

  “More delusions? These fantasies have caused you to lose touch with reality and suffer a psychotic break. We will put you out of your misery. No one else will be endangered by your madness.”

  “Good Sakra,” she whispered. Pax yanked at the tight chains and tried frantically to break free. She gasped when the metal cut into her skin so deeply that she saw flashes of bone under the skin at her wrists. She strained her neck until she thought she might pass out from the pain of flailing against the collar. It was in vain. She couldn’t access her strength; there seemed to be no prana in her body. She felt unbelievably human and fragile. Why couldn’t her accusers d
etermine her identity from looking at her? She was the very person they had accused her of killing!

  When she saw the soldier signal his men, she yelled. “Stop! Don’t…” It was too late.

  “Fire!” The machine guns all begun to sound in unison, as though each were an instrument in an endless, deafening orchestra of thunder.

  Pax held her breath as she watched the thousands of bullets heading toward her in slow motion. She urgently tried to retrieve her energy and form a shield around her body, but she had no energy to find. Her body seemed drained of all power. When the first bullet was inches away from colliding with her forehead, she sighed in relief and remembered that a bullet would not be capable of piercing her skin. When she had been younger, Thornton had tried to scare her by shooting her in the hand. (He had been the worst babysitter conceivable.) Bullets had always bounced off her comically or crumpled in her palm. She was the granddaughter of the fire deva! She smiled and crossed her eyes to stare rebelliously at the bullet with a glance that declared, “Bring it on!” She welcomed the impact that would probably feel like nothing more than a heavy downpour of rain.

  When the first bullet ripped right through her forehead, a scream was torn from her throat in surprise at the searing pain. That impact was followed by hundreds more within the second as the bullets tore into her body relentlessly. Pax fought to breathe as her lungs were pumped full of metal. She suddenly knew she was moments away from death. Thorn, she thought feebly, trying to reach him telepathically before she lost consciousness. Thorn…

  “Wake the hell up, Paxie. I need your help.”

  Pax’s eyes snapped open and she sat up abruptly. She blinked as she stared at Amara. “What’s wrong?” She shakily ran both hands over her sweaty forehead, lifting her bangs back away from her skin as she exhaled.

  Amara plopped herself down on the bed beside her friend with a grin. “First of all, how does it feel to get gunned down by a firing squad?”

  “I told you not to spy on my dreams,” Pax complained tiredly.

  “They’re important and interesting,” Amara said. “You can learn from them.”

  Pax groaned, tugging the duvet up around her shoulders. “Really? So what did that ridiculous nightmare mean?”

  “Easy. You worry that Para is overshadowing and consuming your identity. That’s what those people meant by saying that you had killed Pax.” Amara nodded smugly to emphasize her point.

  After considering this for a moment, Pax glanced at her friend in surprise. “That’s actually pretty good. But enough with the Freudian analysis: why did you wake me up?”

  Amara winced. “Mom dumped a bunch of administrative duties in my lap. Apparently I’m in charge of hosting a ‘We Saved the Whole World’ party.”

  “That’s nice,” Pax said with a yawn. “I’m useless to you. I suck at party planning.”

  “I know,” Amara said softly, “but I’m thinking of asking Ash to be my date.”

  Pax was silent for a moment before lifting herself off the bed to glare squarely at her friend. “Why would you do that? He dumped you.”

  “But it’s the Charity Ball, Paxie,” Amara whined. “He always goes with me. Besides, we’ve all been through something pretty intense together. Surely we can put all these silly little squabbles behind us?”

  “Mara. He told you he didn’t love you. We know it’s not true, but he still said it—he still hurt you. It might seem like a long time ago, and it might seem insignificant, but he still intentionally lied and messed up. You can’t go chasing after a guy who broke up with you. You need to have more pride than that.” Pax glanced down, realizing that she had begun to crush the duvet cover between her hands. “I love my Uncle Ash, but he can’t get away with treating you like that.”

  “He’s been there for me,” Amara said softly. “Every time I needed him.”

  Pax rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t invite him. You know that it’s an awful idea. Promise me you won’t? Amara—promise me?”

  The blonde woman sighed. “Okay. I won’t.”

  “Great. Now tell me your other problems quickly so I can go back to sleep.”

  Amara nodded. “We’re considering increasing the price of a plate from $50K to $200K.”

  “Holy crap!” Pax exclaimed, blinking at the figure. “How many people do you usually invite?”

  “We can accommodate a maximum of two thousand guests in the ballroom.”

  Pax lifted an eyebrow skeptically. “Do you really think there are two thousand people who can afford to pay two hundred thousand dollars to go to a party?”

  Amara laughed. “This is California, girlfriend.”

  “Good point,” Pax said with a grin, “and people will be coming from all over the world. Who knows; they might even donate more money considering the comet. Your mom isn’t going to send all that money to charity, right?”

  “No, we’re keeping half of it this time,” Amara said seriously. “Even so, it doesn’t make a dent in the funds my mom wasted on spaceship fuel.”

  “But I’m sure it was worth it for the future of the company,” Pax said softly.

  “Sure. Who doesn’t enjoy a three-billion-dollar publicity stunt?”

  “Sweet Sakra,” Pax whispered. “Is that what it cost to send those spaceships up?”

  “It was a whole lot cheaper to make you cry,” Amara mumbled. “Who knew that little Paxie’s tears were weapons of mass destruction?”

  Pax was in the middle of a witty retort when a voice interrupted her from the intercom.

  “Miss Burnson, may I come in?”

  The girls exchanged confused looks. Pax lifted her fingers and used her mind to float the intercom device into the palm of her hand. She stared down at it suspiciously. “It sounds like his secretary, Nina.”

  “What the hell does she want?” Amara grumbled.

  Shrugging, Pax pressed the intercom. “Come on in.”

  The professionally dressed secretary entered the room holding a silver tray. A giant bouquet of roses in a crystal vase obstructed her face from view. Pax felt the corners of her lips being automatically tugged upwards in pleasure at the sight of the flowers, but when she noticed Amara closely observing her reaction, she cleared her throat and made her face expressionless.

  “What’s all this?” Pax asked in the most apathetic voice she could muster.

  “Mr. Kalgren sent you breakfast, flowers, a gift, and a note,” Nina said as she deposited the tray on the bed. She removed the vase of roses and deposited them on a night table. “Would you like me to read the note, Miss Burnson?”

  “No, thank you,” Pax said quizzically. “I went to med school. I think I remember how to read.”

  “Chill out, Paxie!” Amara said with a laugh. “It’s a rich-people thing. We like to have our subordinates read us things just because they’re subordinates. Hey, sweet! Thorn sent fresh fruit.”

  Pax scowled as Amara began to devour the breakfast. Her eyes fixated on the small velvet box wrapped with a ribbon, and she tentatively reached out. Amara noticed the box just before Pax could grasp it and snatched it up, ripping the ribbon off.

  “Ooh,” Amara said as she opened the box. “Diamond earrings! Damn, my brother has some game. A real ladies’ man.”

  Ignoring the jewels, Pax shifted her eyes to quickly scan the note. She felt oddly torn between pleasure and suspicion.

  Paxie,

  Just a little gift to thank you for last night. You prevented a disaster and put us all to shame with your masterful use of energy. I hope you don’t mind if I mention your name to give you some credit in the official press statements. Can’t wait to see you tonight.

  Love, Thorn.

  “Why did he send you, Nina?” Pax asked with a frown as she glanced at the diamond earrings. “Why didn’t he come speak with me himself?”

  “He’s been in meetings and conference calls all morning,” Nina explained. “He asked me to apologize. The poor man is quite overloaded with work after la
st night’s events.”

  “That’s totally cool!” Amara said cheerfully as she popped a strawberry in her mouth. “Tell him he’s the best brother ever. Please encourage him to send more gifts—and maybe something for me next time.”

  “Yes, Miss Kalgren.”

  The secretary had begun to walk away when Pax interrupted her. “Nina?” she asked in a low tone. “Did you sleep with him?”

  Nina turned back to Pax carefully, with an expression on her face as though she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “With the boss, you mean?”

  “I’m not asking about the florist,” Pax responded dryly, “nor the jeweler or the chef.”

  “Although I couldn’t blame you for sleeping with the chef,” Amara added, closing her eyes as she placed a forkful of pancakes into her mouth. “Mmmm!”

  Nina and Pax ignored this, staring at each other intently. “Well,” Nina said hesitantly, clearing her throat. “Well, I…”

  “Honey, you better keep it shut,” Amara warned, gesturing at the door with her fork. “Don’t say anything. Just walk away.”

  “Thank you, Miss Kalgren,” Nina said quickly, bowing her head anxiously as she scampered out of the cold, tense atmosphere that had instantly filled the room.

  “You saw it in her head, didn’t you?” Pax asked. “Tell me.”

  Amara shrugged as she continued eating. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You know that Thorn has been sleeping around while you two were apart. Just let it go.”

  Pax reached out to grab the velvet box and wave it around furiously. “Because of some diamond earrings? How cheap do you think I am? I’m sure you remember what happened last night. Before the comet. You were there; we were one person at the time.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Amara said miserably, putting a hand on her stomach. “I might have to upchuck this delicious breakfast if I think about that.”