by Helen Harper
‘You’ve changed your tune,’ he snarked.
I toyed with my glass. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude before. I’ve had a bad day. Now I’ve got a drink or two inside me, I’m starting to relax. Perhaps I can buy you one to make up for how I acted.’
‘I don’t let women buy me drinks,’ he threw out in typical Neanderthal fashion. Then he looked at Byron and the girl behind me. ‘I guess you’ve been given the brush off too.’
I smiled. ‘I guess so.’
He leered down my dress. ‘Why don’t we leave this place and head upstairs? Then maybe you’ll open those legs for me after all.’
Ick. Ick. Ick. I held up my palms. ‘Er, actually I…’
There was a sudden crack in the air and he was thrown backwards, falling several feet through the air and landing dazed against the wall. My mouth dropped open.
‘I think you owe the lady an apology,’ Byron growled. He was on his feet, his brows snapped together and his mouth tight. I’d expected a reaction but not that fast and not that violent. The Sidhe girl backed away, her hand clasped to her mouth as she looked from the sprawled Cockney to Byron and back again.
‘What happened?’ she squeaked.
I frowned at him. ‘I don’t need a hero,’ I told him. ‘I was handling that.’
His expression grew even darker. ‘It didn’t sound like you were handling it.’
I wondered if I was now seeing the real Byron, heir presumptive to the Sidhe stewardship and all that entailed. If that was the case, he certainly had a temper.
I made a quick decision. The flirtatious banter had gone and was unlikely to return. I still needed to be in full control of this situation and with Byron’s friends on their feet and the tense atmosphere in the bar, I wasn’t going to achieve that if I stuck around. I threw some money down and stood up, putting my bag on my shoulder. ‘I told you I was a pacifist,’ I said softly. ‘This is a little too rough and tumble for my liking. Thank you for the champagne. It was lovely meeting you. I’ll have something to tell my grandchildren.’ Then, without another word or glance at either him or the Cockney, I walked out.
Something poked me in my ribs. There was a muffled protest coming from my bag: Bob. I jabbed him back and began to count, crossing my fingers as I did so. One. Two. Into the lobby. Three. Four. Five. Shite. This was taking too long. Past the table with the elaborate flowers. Six. Seven. Up to the doorman. Arse. I’d misjudged the situation.
‘Integrity!’
I allowed myself a tiny smile. No, I’d got it right after all. I turned slowly, reluctantly.
‘Byron,’ I said with a sigh. ‘I think my quiet evening has been ruined. It’s time to head home.’
He regarded me seriously. ‘I can’t let you do that.’
He would have to do better than that. Come on, Golden Boy. Give me something to work with. ‘I don’t think it’s up to you.’
‘But it is. How can I possibly let you go with what happened there as the only story for your grandchildren? It’ll hurt my reputation immeasurably. You need to give me another chance so that they’ll think better of me.’
Better. I gave a silent round of applause. ‘I promise I’ll paint you in a very favourable light, my liege.’
He winced. ‘Don’t call me that. My father might be Steward but that doesn’t mean I will be.’
‘Byron.’ I softened my voice and looked at him up through my eyelashes, noting his reaction. Yep. He might be a pretty face but he was also pretty dumb. ‘I can’t go back in there,’ I told him, gesturing towards the bar. ‘It really is better if I go home.’
He tilted his head, a bronzed curl falling across his eyes. ‘We were getting along very well, Integrity,’ he murmured. ‘Let’s not ruin things. I have the penthouse suite. I can get Timothy to send up the champagne. No one else is going to drink it and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.’
I did an imaginary dance. I am a sexual goddess. At least for tonight anyway. ‘I don’t know… I’ve got work tomorrow and…’
‘Please. Just one drink.’
I met his eyes and something inexplicable flared between us. What the hell was that? ‘Okay,’ I said finally. ‘Just one. But only because you’ve paid for that champagne and it’s so expensive.’
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he held out his arm. ‘One drink,’ he breathed. ‘I promise.’
Chapter Six
We stepped into the lift. As the doors glided to a smooth close, I turned to Byron. ‘So that’s your Gift, is it? Telekinesis? Throwing things around with the power of your mind?’
‘It’s one of them.’
Surprised, I asked, ‘You have more than one?’ That was unusual.
He gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Comes with the family. I only have two though. Not as many as my father unfortunately.’ He paused. ‘What’s yours?’
‘Not worth mentioning,’ I demurred. I didn’t have any. I’d left the Sidhe lands before I could receive either my true name or my Gift. Like I cared. I got along quite well without either of them. It wasn’t too much of a big deal – plenty of lower-level Sidhe didn’t have much zap behind their Gifts.
To avoid further interrogation, I kept the focus on him. People love talking about themselves. ‘Your Gifts must be very strong,’ I purred. ‘What’s it like?’
Byron grimaced. ‘It’s easy to push out lots of strength like I did in the bar. It was actually a dick move. What’s far harder is being delicate and targeted.’
‘Oh yes?’ I asked innocently. ‘Like what?’
Mischief danced in his emerald-green eyes. ‘I’ll show you.’ He blinked languorously like a cat. That’s when I felt it. The zip at the back of my dress tugged. What the hell? I jumped and he chuckled – but he didn’t stop. Without touching me, he continued to lower my zip. My fingers scrabbled at my back.
‘Stop that!’
He smiled. ‘Okay.’ The strap on my shoulder began to slip down instead, exposing my bra. ‘Mm. Hot pink underwear to match your hot pink dress. You do like that colour.’
I squeaked, ‘That’s enough!’
‘If you insist.’
‘I do!’ I wagged my finger. ‘One drink, remember? Nothing else.’
‘As if I could forget,’ he murmured. ‘Come on, turn around. I’ll fix you back up.’
I didn’t ask why he wasn’t using his Gift to return my clothing to its appropriate state. I already knew. His fingers brushed against my skin, lingering as he gently pulled my shoulder strap back up. Then he slowly pulled up the zip. ‘I can’t believe our paths haven’t crossed before,’ he said in a low voice.
Oh, he knew all the right things to say and all the right moves to make. I reminded myself that he was a playboy. I knew that, even though I avoided reading the tabloids and gossip sheets whenever the Sidhe were involved.
Control, Integrity. You’re in control.
‘Just our bad luck,’ I whispered.
A bell sounded as the lift arrived at its designated floor. Both Byron and I flinched then I turned round to catch his eye and laughed nervously. He stared at me for a moment before smiling. ‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘Home sweet home. At least for the next three nights anyway.’
He took my hand and led me into the penthouse and through a heavy self-locking door which I took careful note of. Once inside I made a point of looking around casually. Damn. This was pretty swish. I walked over to the large window and gazed out. ‘You’re a lucky guy,’ I commented, ‘getting to experience all this.’
‘Believe me, I know.’
‘And you’re only here for three nights?’
He nodded. ‘I have some business to attend to.’
I got the impression from his tone that he didn’t want to talk about it. That suited me. I only wanted to know where the Lia Saifire was being kept. I offered a brilliant smile. ‘I’ve never been in a penthouse before. Can you give me the grand tour?’
His mouth quirked up. ‘It would be my pleasure.’
&nb
sp; I followed him around. The place was impressive. And ostentatious. I exclaimed over the elaborate chandeliers and cooed over the soft furnishings. I wasn’t expecting to see the gem on display, of course, but there was bound to be a safe somewhere. I strolled over to a large painting of two hunting dogs gazing up at a bird of prey.
‘Beautiful artwork,’ I said as I tried to work out whether it was a front for a wall safe.
‘It’s not really to my taste,’ he said. ‘Come on. I’ll show you the bedrooms.’
I trailed after him, hoping it was clear that this was a tour and nothing else. Fortunately, after the little show of power in the lift, he was now on his best behaviour. He pointed out the vast bed and the modern painting hanging above it, as well as the ensuite. His tone remained neutral. Thank goodness.
We were returning to the main living room area when I saw it. One of the vast wardrobe doors was open less than an inch and, nestled there inside like a gift from the gods, was a safe. My stomach flipped. Bingo. I could feel my skin prickling in anticipation. Now I was getting somewhere.
‘Do you mind if I use your bathroom?’ I asked.
Byron grinned at me. ‘Be my guest. You can use the ensuite or there’s another one to your left, next to the second bedroom.’
As tempting as it was to scoot back to Byron’s own bedroom and see what I could make of the safe, I wasn’t stupid enough to burn all my bridges just yet. I gave him a rueful smile, suggesting that I wasn’t brave enough to venture back into his bedroom, and pointed to the other bathroom. I received a lazy smirk in return.
‘Don’t be long.’
My stomach flipped again. Goddamnit. The sensation was because I was so close to my goal, I told myself. It had nothing to do with the smoky look in his eyes or the rasp in his voice. I did not want Byron Moncrieffe. I wanted the freaking Lia Saifire. Everything depended on it.
I shut the bathroom door and carefully locked it, then leaned against and put my hand to my forehead. This was a job, like any other. It was time to stop acting like an idiot and start being more professional. Byron was ripe for the picking; everything he’d done up till now had proven that. I knew where the Lia Saifire was. I was on easy street. I just had to remember that.
I opened my bag. Bob grinned at me and gave a little wave. ‘Hey! How’s it going?’
‘Get back into your blade,’ I growled. ‘I don’t have time for this.’
He pouted. ‘Aw, come on, Uh Integrity! Where are we?’ He pulled himself up, peered over the edge of the bag and gave a low whistle. ‘Damn, girl! This is seriously posh! High living!’
‘Bob,’ I said through gritted teeth, ‘so help me God, if you don’t get back into your blade and give me some peace I’m going to throw you out the window.’
He stuck out his tongue. ‘I already told you, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Not any more.’
‘Maybe not. But it’ll still hurt when you hit the ground. And keep your voice down.’
‘Why? Are you playing hide and seek? I love hide and seek! I’m so good at it! Let me join in.’ He began jumping up and down, making the bag bounce. ‘Come on. Let me join in!’
I gave him the nastiest look I could muster. He sighed dramatically. ‘You’re really mean.’
‘That’s right,’ I told him. ‘I really am. Now shut the hell up and get into that blade.’
He pulled another face. ‘You didn’t say I wish.’
‘Bob…’
He retreated. ‘Fine, fine. Honestly. Women!’
I covered my eyes as he flashed back in. Relieved that he was doing as he was told, I rummaged around for my lipstick and quickly unscrewed the bottom of the tube. Two small white tablets fell out. I palmed them quickly. Byron might be Sidhe but these babies were enough to knock out an ox. They were harmless enough, though. He’d wake up in the morning with a sore head – by which time I’d be well away.
After flushing the toilet and checking my make-up, I left the bathroom. Byron was gazing out over the night sky, his back turned. Timothy had sent up the champagne and two chilled glasses were sitting on the table top. Perfect. With one fluid movement, I dropped the tablets into the one that was furthest away. The tablets fizzed slightly but dissolved to nothing within moments. I gave myself a mental high five.
I cleared my throat. ‘You’re switching to champagne?’
He turned. ‘Like I said, whisky makes me frisky. And I promised you one drink and one drink alone.’ He reached behind me and grabbed the nearest glass by its stem, handing it to me before taking the other – the spiked one ‒ for himself.
‘You’re a true gentleman,’ I murmured, raising my glass up to his then taking a sip. ‘Slainte.’
‘Slainte,’ he replied. Then he drained his glass in one gulp. Hurray!
I smiled and took a sip from mine. ‘This really is good.’
‘I’m glad you approve.’ He leaned towards me and I felt a lurch in the pit of my stomach, sure that he was making a move. Instead, he reached around me again and returned his glass to the table top. Then he pulled back. ‘So, Integrity. I know you like hot pink and you hate violence but I don’t know much else. What do you do for a living?’
‘I’m in security. It’s pretty boring.’
‘Security?’ He glanced up and down my body until I was forced to repress a shiver. ‘Forgive me, but you don’t seem built for that kind of position.’
I needed to get him sitting down. The last thing I wanted was the current Steward’s son keeling over in mid-conversation and banging his head. I didn’t need to be accused of attempted regicide, whether Byron claimed he held no actual title or not.
I put down my own glass and met his eyes. ‘What kind of position do you think I’m built for?’ I asked. There was no mistaking my meaning.
He ran his tongue across his top lip. ‘Well, I can tell from your attitude that you enjoy being on top. Being in control.’
He had that right. I smiled, turned and walked over to the large sofa in the centre of the room. ‘You’re right. I do like being on top.’ I sat down, making zero effort to stop my dress from riding up, and leaned back against the cushions.
Byron stayed where he was. ‘The trouble is,’ he muttered, ‘I like being in charge too.’
I tucked one leg underneath me. It wasn’t easy but it was worth it to see the flare in his eyes. Come on, Byron. Get your arse over here and sit down before you fall down. ‘I suppose that makes us incompatible then,’ I said with a tinge of sadness. ‘Nothing more than ships that pass in the night.’
He still didn’t bloody move. ‘Don’t say that, Integrity,’ he said. ‘I have a feeling that we’re going to know each other for much longer than that.’
‘Really?’ I patted the seat next to me. ‘What makes you say that?’
He seemed to make a decision. He strode over and sat next to me, his thigh dangerously close to mine. I could smell his aftershave again. Delicious.
Byron smirked. ‘What is?’
I started. Had I said that aloud? ‘Er,’ I stuttered, embarrassed. ‘Your scent. It’s delicious.’
His smile grew. ‘Really? Because I think you’re delicious.’
It was the type of comment that would normally have me rolling my eyes. Instead, my chest felt tight and it was like I’d forgotten how to breathe. Byron stared into my eyes, his emerald depths darkening to a deep jade. There was a question lurking there.
My senses swam. Oh, why the hell not? He’d be unconscious before this really got anywhere. I gave the tiniest nod of my head. I’d almost achieved what I’d come here to do; I could allow myself a bit of fun in the process. It would hurt him more tomorrow when he discovered the theft of his sparkly jewel. And he deserved the hurt after the way he’d spoken to me when I was a kid.
Byron didn’t take any further convincing. He gave a faint groan and leaned in, his lips brushing softly against mine. Screw that. If I was going to make this kind of error of judgment, I was going to go all in. I grabbed the back of h
is head and deepened the kiss, pressing into him. He tasted of whisky and champagne mixed together. His stubble scraped my cheek. I felt dizzy and exhilarated all at once. A kiss shouldn’t feel this good. Especially a kiss with such a wanker. I pulled back, breathing hard. He stared at me, a stunned expression on his face.
‘I told you I liked to be on top,’ I said, hooking one leg over him so I could sit astride him. His body was rock hard. I ran my hand up his chest and he shuddered. He must have put in an extraordinary number of hours at the gym to achieve that sort of physique. He adjusted my weight, shifting my body so he could get more comfortable.
‘Oh really? Because I think you’ll find I’m the one in charge here.’
‘No chance,’ I whispered, leaning in once more. Then I pulled back abruptly.
He frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’
I put one hand up to my head. It didn’t feel good. ‘Something’s not right,’ I muttered.
‘Integrity,’ he rasped, ‘this is so right.’
‘No.’ I shook head. My vision was beginning to blur. ‘I feel strange.’ And then, for the second time that day, I keeled over.
Chapter Seven
This time when I woke up, I was more aware of my surroundings than I was when the Wild Man knocked me out. That was mainly because there was an arm wrapped tightly round my waist and a leg thrown over my hip, pinning me into place. And that damn aftershave was everywhere. It was as if I’d been sprinkled liberally with it.
I groaned and tried to move my arm, eventually managing to squeeze it out from underneath me. I rubbed my eyes. I glanced down at myself and froze. My pink dress was gone. All I was wearing were my bra and panties. At least I wasn’t naked. I wasn’t sure if I could take that sort of shame. I’d never live it down if Lexie discovered I’d let myself be this vulnerable.
