by Ashley Meira
I’d told him about my dark past, but that didn’t mean he owed me his, so I hadn’t pried into it. Mostly because I knew he didn’t want to talk about it, but also because I was an insecure idiot who was worried he wouldn’t tell me even if I asked. Mantras of “He doesn’t really like you” played over and over in my head, despite Adam showing me hundreds of times how much he cared.
“I see,” I finally uttered to fill the recreated silence.
He nodded again and reached out to guide me inside. He stopped short, however, the movement ending up as more of a “go ahead” gesture near my lower back. I forced myself to look ahead and remember this was all likely because of his father. For both of us. I was tense over meeting Liam freakin’ Pierce. He was pissed about seeing the man he tried his best to avoid.
And hopefully worried about me. Possibly Charlotte, too, if I hadn’t just imagined her name. I began to doubt my sanity over that halfway through the plane ride. Had I wanted the money so badly that I conjured up an extra reason to go? Or was I validating myself, thinking I was coming here for my own reasons instead of simply not being able to refuse Mr. Pierce’s offer?
I steeled my nerves, straightened my spine, and followed Adam into the lion’s den.
Then, three minutes later, I promptly deflated and regressed back to my cowardly ways.
I hadn’t had much of a chance to explore their Bordeaux estate, but I recognized some of the decor. Adam said this place was decorated the same way, so I took his word for it. There was one glaring difference, though, and Adam must have been aware of it, because he looked like his skin was crawling the entire time we walked.
This place was cold. Not the physical kind of cold, but just… empty. The Bordeaux estate held a woman’s touch, decorated in jewel tones of rich reds, blues, and greens. This place was exactly the same, yet it lacked all the warmth I’d felt in the other home.
I couldn’t imagine anyone living here. This entire place felt like a very fancy museum, with everything on display but never touched. A stillness fell over us, like we’d entered a place where no one had tread before. It reminded me of Seraphine: beautiful but utterly dead inside. Hollow. Being here made me feel like I was sixteen again, exploring the blackened halls of Nicholas’ castle for a way out.
Except this time, I didn’t have my sister’s hand to hold, and Adam looked like he might crumble to dust if I touched him. I squeezed my hands together, the effect completely lost without another person’s touch, and focused on chasing away the cold specters of self-doubt Adam’s distance had summoned.
I couldn’t imagine what he’d think if he knew what I was feeling. Hadn’t he done enough already? He was probably tired of being my emotional support. Crutch, really. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was sick of me — or at least my weaknesses. I could agree with him on that. This habit I’d developed of running to him whenever things got tough, like some mewling kitten looking for warmth, pissed me off enough that I managed to keep my head held high. Pride was as powerful as self-pity, I’d found — and just as destructive.
Despite my tough front, I was still a maelstrom of darkness. I was sad, because and for Adam; pissed at myself for being weak and upset over something that was probably insignificant; and terrified, because a man who could stand living in a place like this probably wasn’t the warmest soul. Fortunately, training with Adam had helped increased my already rigid control over my magic. I might have been an internal disaster, but my magic would be read as a calm wave — if it was read at all.
“He can sense how upset you are. He just doesn’t care.”
I scowled at the evil voice in my head and dug my nails into my hands. Pain wasn’t good at helping me forget, but it provided an adequate distraction. Not that a few scrapes mattered to me. Nicholas had been far more brutal with his punishments.
“I’d like to stay in the plane.” Adam’s voice was so quiet I thought I’d imagined it. “If this job takes more than a day, I mean. Or a hotel, if you prefer.”
“Sure,” I replied just as quietly. It felt like anything louder would cause everything in this place to shatter. “The plane is fine. Don’t worry.”
“Yeah,” he said tiredly, as if those few phrases had completely drained him. “You, too.”
Anger quashed down the hope that had welled in my chest at his words. This whole lovesick crap was getting ridiculous. I appreciated his words, but I didn’t need to feel like the sun rose and set with them. Nodding, I gave him a tight smile and continued walking.
Despite the similar decor, this place had a totally different layout to his Bordeaux home, so I was forced to follow Adam as we walked to Mr. Pierce’s office. Damien said he’d be there, and I found myself wondering if the patriarch could be found anywhere else. I imagined all Council members as stuffy workaholics, which might not be the case if Symeon was to be believed. I tried hard to keep thoughts of the siren’s depraved sexual escapades far from my mind, however.
I followed Adam for another five minutes, wondering exactly how far inside this place Mr. Pierce’s office was. And where were his guards? Shouldn’t a man like this have security? Thomas Corbin, the treacherous rat who’d killed two of Adrienne’s friends and nearly the nereid herself, had enough guards to populate a small village. This place was empty.
Adam didn’t have guards in his home, either. Then again, the man ran security for his entire family before he became CEO, so maybe there were actually invisible death traps lurking around and secret door panels hiding an army of guards. I amused myself with thoughts of that until Adam stopped at the end of a hallway.
He didn’t speak. His eyes were fixed on the pictures covering the walls. Between them was a set of double doors made of mahogany and powerful magic. It thrummed beneath the wood, drawing my Fire’s hunger — and my nausea. I was not absorbing anything like that before meeting with a Council member.
The thought of striking up another “conversation” with Adam tired me more than it should have, so I allowed myself a moment to look at what had drawn his attention.
My lips parted at the sight of the pictures on the walls. They were portraits of Adam and his family. I couldn’t help smiling back at the grinning child in one of them, his tousled brown hair so similar to the style he had now. Damien’s signature charming grin had been there since birth, it seemed, because there was a small toddler with the same grin smiling at Adam’s portrait from the opposite wall, his dimples on full display.
My smile faded a bit as I met the soft gray eyes of a beautiful woman. Her long blonde hair fell in delicate waves around her slim face. I recognized her tender smile instantly as the one Adam gave me when we were together. There were plenty of pictures of her — playing with the brothers, who’d apparently been very chubby babies, or simply holding them tight.
What I found odd was the lack of Mr. Pierce in these paintings. He only appeared in two: a wedding portrait of him and Elaine and a family portrait with their teenaged sons. Personally, I wasn’t a fan of having my picture taken. He probably felt the same way. It just felt odd to only see the man twice in this veritable shrine of family memories.
I stared into the portrait’s severe blue eyes and hoped old age had softened him a bit. “Should we knock?”
Adam wrenched his gaze away from the portrait of his mother that had so engrossed him and nodded.
His knock was so clipped I almost winced, but the man on the other side didn’t say anything more than, “Enter.”
I took a deep breath and did as I was told, giving the long hallway one final look. Fear nested in my belly. Would I truly be allowed to leave here a free woman?
Chapter Five
Had I expected there to be more warmth to Mr. Pierce’s office than the rest of his home, I’d have been sorely disappointed. Fortunately, I hadn’t and was surprised by the crackling fire to my left. Its light bathed the austere room in an almost inviting light, and I had the urge to curl before it in search of comfort.
Instead, I raked my eyes o
ver the ornate mahogany bookcases and the intimidating array of books they held. Had he read all of these? Were they even real books or were half the shelves a clever disguise for a secret passage? I hoped so, because just looking at the dry titles of these books brought tears to my eyes. No one should be made to read all of them.
My hope of Liam Pierce being softened by old age was quashed the moment I laid eyes on him. For one, he wasn’t very old. Mid-forties, if I had to guess. Served me right for never bothering to look up my secondary boogeymen beyond their listed cities of residence. Second, he looked even more intimidating in person than he had in those pictures.
The Pierces must have had very strong genes — I supposed that had been made clear when their heirs were revealed to be two of the most powerful mages of our time — because what the boys hadn’t inherited from their mother, they’d gotten from their father.
His eyes were a pale, liquid blue that mirrored Damien’s perfectly, and his hair was the same shade as Adam’s. Unlike my partner’s boyishly styled locks, however, Mr. Pierce’s hair was longer. It reached past his shoulders and was tied back in a simple braid. He wore a dark gray suit, impeccably tailored to his form. His shoulders were broad, and he had certainly held up his half of giving the boys their good looks. If he hadn’t been who he was, Fiona would have made a play for him. Hell, I would have, too.
I held his gaze like a deer in headlights a moment longer before realizing I’d been staring and no one had spoken.
“Sir,” I stammered out, dropping into an awkward bow. What was I supposed to refer to him as? Your Excellency? I really should have asked before we got here. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
Mr. Pierce raised a brow. Whether it was at my insincerity or my clumsiness, he didn’t say. “The pleasure is mine, Ms. Sinclair.” He nodded at his son. “Adam.”
Adam wasn’t cowed by his father’s stern, deep voice the way I was, but it snapped him back into the moment. “Father.”
“Thank you for coming, Ms. Sinclair,” he said, unperturbed by his son’s sour demeanor. “Will you be vacationing in Europe after this?”
“Huh? Oh, no,” I said, surprised by his efforts at conversation. “We just returned home yesterday. That’s when Damien reached out.”
“I see. Pardon my prying. I was simply curious as to why my son was here.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Adam snipped in that impudent way children did when they didn’t want to speak to their parents but wanted it to be clear they were mad at them.
“Ah,” Mr. Pierce said mockingly. “You are capable of more than mono-syllabic replies. Perhaps if you demonstrated that talent more often, I wouldn’t have to get my information secondhand.”
Adam’s jaw was tense enough to crack diamonds. “I’m here to support Sophia.”
“Evidently,” he said dryly. Every word he spoke was slow and deliberate as if he marinated on each one. “Well, you may want to do a better job of it. The poor girl looks very uncomfortable.”
“That’s because of you.”
“Is it?” He regarded me carefully. “So, you haven’t been ignoring her the entire trip, lost in thoughts of poor, poor you?”
My eyes widened, and I considered secretly calling Fiona on my ring. She ate this family drama stuff up. Hell, any drama would do, but this kind of upper class snubbing drew her attention the most when we were hired as bodyguards for fancy gatherings. That, and secret love children. You’d be amazed how many of them pop up during those events.
If Adam replied, I missed it in my awe, because the next voice I heard was Mr. Pierce’s. “My apologies for such candor, Ms. Sinclair. I assumed you two were close enough that you’d already discovered this side of him.”
Every word I’d ever learned had vanished from my mind, so I gave him a polite smile and shrugged.
“I suppose my information is rather skewed. I had to hear about your relationship from Sabrina Hollingsworth,” he said, giving Adam a pointed look before turning back to me. “Her penchant for gossip wears on me, but according to Damien, you’re very special to my son. Hence why I assumed you were much closer.”
I eyed the distance between Adam and me. Even physically, we’d grown apart. Like where we were standing, however, I was sure moving on would fix that. That is, moving on from this place, not our relationship. Damn it. My Fire growled, and I tried to get it to burn the panic that had welled up at my thought.
“We’ve only known each other for two months.” My words were broken up and awkward, but at least I’d gotten them out. “But he’s great. Adam is great. Really great.”
“Adam,” my partner said slowly, “is annoyed.”
“Not an unusual state for me to find you in,” his father said. “Specifics would be nice.”
“Damien blindsided her with your request. It should have come from me.”
“It should have,” Mr. Pierce agreed. “And had I been able to relay the message through the fifteen missed calls I gave you, I would have.”
“I have a secretary—”
“Riding a wild dragon is easier than getting you on the phone,” he said firmly. “If you hadn’t brought Mr. Corbin in for prosecution, I doubt I’d have seen you at all this year. Perhaps, my boy, you should reevaluate your life choices if a man has to commit murder and summon an evil sea witch to get you to pay your father a visit.”
My knees knocked against each other as I tried to maintain my balance. I’d seen rabid dogs attack with less brutality.
“Besides,” Mr. Pierce continued, “I tried to go through formal channels, but the Mercenary Guild said Ms. Sinclair was on leave. They had no idea how to reach her since she’s been out of the country.” He turned his icy gaze back to me. “You’re a remarkably difficult woman to find.”
“Damien found me instantly,” I said, trying and failing not to sound like an uncomfortable walrus. “It’s just a location thing. I’m really not that special.”
“I’m certain my son would disagree. He seems to think you’re special enough for him to play guardian.”
That was the second time he’d claimed Adam thought I was special. It was a nice thought, one I really wanted to believe. Right now, though, it wasn’t easy. Did I truly think Adam hated or was sick of me? No. Did I really have those worries harpooning my brain? Hell yes. Doubts like these came and went. They always had — and not just about Adam. That didn’t make them any easier to shake off or ignore, however.
“I hope so,” I said timidly. “Not that I need a guardian. Uh, sir.”
He arched a brow. “Mr. Pierce will do fine.”
“Get to the point.” Adam’s jaw tensed, either as a means to hold back an apology for his rudeness or to keep from making more scathing remarks. “Please.”
“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the chairs in front of him. He sat and waited for us to follow suit before continuing. “It’s very simple, Ms. Sinclair. I want to hire you to find someone.”
My brows shot up. That was rather anti-climactic. With all this build up, I thought he was going to ask me to…. Well, I had no idea what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. What was it with Pierces asking me to find things?
“Details, please,” I asked automatically.
“She’s a seventeen-year-old girl with plenty of intelligence and very little life experience—”
“What?” I cut him off as thoughts of waking up alone hanging by my arms rushed into my head. Nothing as sinister had happened to this girl — I hoped — but it still struck a cord. She was only one year older than I’d been when I escaped. “Sorry. Please continue.”
Mr. Pierce gave me a lingering look before continuing, “As I said, she’s quite bright. She graduated from university last year with doctorates in archaeology and magical history, along with a masters in non-magical history. Now, she travels around the world searching for ancient historical finds.”
“So, an archaeologist?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around how many
degrees she had.
“In a sense, though she fancies herself Indiana Jones,” he said with a wry chuckle that took me off guard as much as his non-magical reference. “Her words, not mine.”
“She’s not magical?”
“She’s a mage, but her mother had no magical powers.” Mr. Pierce pursed his lips. “She told me she had discovered something new and was off to research it more. She hasn’t checked in since.”
“Maybe she’s just engrossed in her work,” Adam said, discomfort still rolling off him in waves. “Damien said she hasn’t been missing long.”
“A week,” his father said tersely, his gaze still locked with mine. “She checks in every day. Every. Day. Without fail.”
“Could she be in an area without reception?” I asked.
“She uses a communication charm,” he said dryly.
“She’s a mage—”
“Yes. An earth mage. An untrained earth mage who doesn’t have anywhere near the experience to fight off even one attacker.” Mr. Pierce took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. The scent of sandalwood hit my nose for the briefest of seconds before vanishing. My eyes widened as I realized I hadn’t noticed any magic coming from him before now. Damn. He was good. “I offered bodyguards, but she refused them. Teenagers and their need for independence.”
Bodyguards? Had she recovered that artifact for him? The way he phrased things didn’t make me think that, but why else would he offer? Could she be working on retainer for Damien trying to find rare artifacts for his gallery? But then why would she be checking in with his father every day? Wait. Could she be his lover? That would be… unexpected.
“She’s just a child,” Mr. Pierce said in a soft voice. “Young and naive—” He cut off with a sharp breath. “Call it intuition or whatever you like, but I believe she is in danger.”
