by Lauren Dane
He rinsed his face and finger-combed his hair and pulled his shirt back on.
“I’m just thinking, wondering what the hells to do about this thing between us. We can’t . . .” How could he say it?
She nodded, walking away. “Ah. Well, yes. I can see your conundrum. It’s one I share. You’re Ranked. I am not. I’m entirely unsuitable.”
He took a deep breath and followed her out. “Don’t say it that way. I don’t regret what happened. I . . . I just . . .”
“It can’t go anywhere.” She shrugged and he nodded, miserably.
“I’ll have Georges, my brother, deal with MRD stuff. We should stop meeting like this.” She laughed, but the sound was brittle and tore at him. “You know what I mean. Being alone together can only end up naked and sweaty.”
“I don’t want to meet with anyone else.”
“My brother is very handsome, but he doesn’t like men. You’ll be safe with him.” She grabbed her suit jacket and put it on. “But I’m warning you, in all seriousness, do not back this attack on me. I won’t have it. I have the right, even under Family Rule, to speak my views. I will do so without threats.”
She went to the door and he clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her. Things had been so damned good just minutes before. And now, the blandness of his life threatened to swallow him again.
“Can you at least attend the meetings with your brother? I’ll bring Deimos, my oldest son and the Lyons heir. Nothing will happen that way. I think you have a lot to say, Abbie, and I want you to say it.”
She paused as she thought and then nodded shortly. “Yes, all right. That will work. When we meet next, I’ll bring some proposals. A few ideas on how we’d like to see changes made and where.”
“I can’t guarantee anything. You know that.”
“Of course I do. It’s my job to persuade people, Roman. Have a good day. I’ll see you soon. Um, thanks.”
He watched her go, wanting to stop her, wanting to ask her to dinner, but knowing it was best he not. Never in his life had he hated his position but the helplessness he felt as her scent began to fade made him wonder how far away he was from that place.
Chapter 7
Abbie saw Logan just outside her door when she looked up. She called out to him and he came in, leaning against her doorway as she gathered her things.
“I never got the chance to thank you for helping me that day with Kerrigan. I appreciate it.”
“I’m your friend, of course I helped. Why don’t you come to dinner at my place tonight?”
She paused, searching for a way to say what needed saying. “I can’t do dinner. We have to stop that. You need to find someone and I need to stop having sex with you when I get lonely.”
“Why? For the gods’ sake, why would you think that? I like having sex with you. We could be together as a couple again if you’d just trust me. But in the meantime, I don’t see why we can’t share some warmth from time to time. I know you enjoy it. I know I do.”
“Because it’s become a way for me to avoid moving on. We aren’t meant to be. You don’t love me like that and I don’t want to be with someone who can’t keep his cock where it belongs.” She laughed. “Truly, Logan, I do love you. But we can’t do this.”
He pouted, genuinely confused by her refusal. “You say you love me but you won’t be with me.”
“I love you but I’d hate you if I was with you again. You hurt me. But we’re friends now and I like that. You don’t need me for sex. You can get it elsewhere. We’re better as friends, less pain all around. Now shoo. I have a meeting to go to.”
She put her hand on his cheek and he leaned into it. “You have become so dear to me, Logan. Truly. Thank you for being such a good friend.”
“I don’t understand you, but I’ll always love you. Do be careful with all this agitation going around, all right?” He kissed her forehead and she walked past him, nearly ramming into none other than Roman Lyons, who made no secret of scowling at Logan.
“Mr. Lyons, I was just on my way to our meeting. My brother should be out front. Did I get the location incorrect?” Her heart sped at his nearness and she wanted to touch him, to smooth her hand across his forehead, to press her lips against the hollow of his throat.
But that would be very bad.
“I had to be in a hearing a few floors below, so I thought I’d bring my son over to get a tour. Do you have time?”
She looked around Roman to see a younger version standing there, wearing a big grin.
“Of course.” She turned to where Logan now stood at her elbow. “Can you see if Georges is out front, and if so, let him know I’ll be down in a bit? Oh, and let me introduce you. Logan Beltine, this is Roman Lyons. Logan is a senior barrister here.”
They did that handshake thing where each man tried to squeeze hard but not seem as if that’s what they were doing.
“Don’t let us keep you, Logan,” Roman said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
She wanted to roll her eyes but managed not to. Logan mumbled his pleasure at meeting Roman and then turned back to her. “I’ll go and talk to Georges and I’ll see you tomorrow, all right? Comm me later if you change your mind about what we spoke on earlier. Or if you just want to talk.” Brazenly, he brushed a kiss over her lips and was gone down the long, narrow hallway before she could say anything in response.
“You must be Deimos, right?” she asked gamely, ignoring more scowls from the delicious Mr. Lyons.
“Don’t mind him, he’s forgotten his manners. Yes, I’m Deimos, the oldest, and most handsome, if I do say so myself. I find that information is often useful.” He winked as he kissed her hand. If he’d been serious, he could have given Logan a run for his credits in the cocksure department, but instead he grinned as he joked and his father groaned.
“Dem, you’re going to make Ms. Haws want to avoid all Lyons forever at this point.” Roman looked back to Abbie. “Yes, this is my oldest. He got a lot of attention until Corrin came along. It’s why, I’m told, he’s got such a high opinion of himself.”
“We’re not all like my uncle Alexander,” Deimos said under his breath.
“Thank the gods for all their favors then. Now, about that tour?” She showed them through the tight warren of offices, the small adjunct hearing spaces, the law library still filled with people even at that late hour, and as they were wrapping it up, Georges met them in the main alcove near the lifts.
“There you are. I was beginning to worry. Did you still want to grab a bite before the meeting?” Her brother stopped as Roman and Deimos came closer. “Oh I apologize, I hadn’t realized you were still giving the tour.”
Abbie quickly introduced everyone and Roman shook Georges’ hand.
“No, we apologize. I didn’t know we were keeping Abbie, Ms. Haws, from her meal. Deimos and I haven’t eaten either. Why don’t we take our meeting with some food?”
Good gods, she loved the way he looked just at that moment. Smiling at Georges as he stood next to his son. All three so handsome and vital they took up every bit of space in the alcove. And the one who took her breath away smelled very good.
Which was, of course, very bad to even think about. Bad, Abbie!
“We all have to eat.” Georges looked at Abbie briefly and shrugged his shoulders. “Our sister runs a small café nearby. I’m quite sure she can fit us all in in the back. It’s private enough that we can discuss things without interference.”
Roman’s gaze snagged on her and caught for long moments. “Sounds better than a conference room in an office building. Shall we?” He indicated they precede him onto the lift.
Light from Nyna’s small café spilled out onto the walk in front. Happy chatter filtered through the doors as they pushed inside.
Nyna saw them and grinned, moving quickly to envelop Abbie and Georges into a big hug. “I didn’t expect to see you two. Oh, and hello there. Well, I can see we’ve got some special guests. It’s a good thing I’ve just put
on another big pot of salume. Bread is fresh; pie, too. Come and sit. I gather you’ll want some quiet?” She looked to Abbie, who nodded. “Well, come into the back. We just had a name-day party leave, so it’s empty.”
Nyna showed them into the small room at the back, separated from the main room by pretty latticed doors. Abbie quickly introduced Roman and Deimos to her sister, who flirted and ushered them to sit.
“I’ll be back shortly with some drinks and treats to nibble on while I get the salume plated up.”
Roman liked watching her interact with her family. The ease was something he envied, wished he had with his brother and parents. Thankfully, his sons shared it with him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had salume.” This from his son. So sheltered. How had he raised a child in Ravena without ever having tried the spicy concoction of legumes, vegetables and fruits of the sea?
“It’s the perfect time for it. When the east moon wanes and the weather cools it makes the shellfish very sweet. My sister is a very good cook. Her salume is legendary.”
A local ale showed up in crockery pitchers along with juice and water. Large loaves of crusty bread and soft cheese appeared with pickled vegetables and spiced cakes accompanying them.
What Roman really wanted to talk about, as Abbie began to give them some basic history of their group, was who the hells Logan was to her. Or more accurately, what he was to her.
It had been stupid of him to go to her offices. He had been a few floors below with Deimos but they could have left. He should have left. They’d agreed to keep away from each other, and here he sat, just inches from her, watching the way she swiped her tongue over her bottom lip to catch a drop of the oil from the vegetables.
This café had been a surprise. He didn’t get down to this part of the municipal complex very often, and when he did, it was usually a quick trip and he was back in his part of the inner ring.
She pulled him from his reverie. “So, we have several different proposals to speak to you about.”
“How do you expect this to go, Abbie?” Deimos asked, moving closer to her. “Do you think the Families will just hand over all their power?”
“No, and I don’t want that anyway. There are, right now, eighty-seven Federation ’Verses. All of them have varying forms of governance. Each ’Verse would have to take this issue up, or not, as they saw fit. We aren’t interested in replacing one system that doesn’t listen to the unranked with another that essentially does the same thing. But look, you’re how old? Twenty standard?”
Deimos took a sip of the ale. “Twenty-one. My parents were very young when they married.”
“Okay, so twenty-one. And you’ve never had the meal the overwhelming majority of the unranked eat on a regular basis for a quarter of the Ravena annum. Do you have any friends who are unranked? I mean, not people who work for you, but people you socialize with?”
“What’s your point?” Roman leaned forward, feeling protective. Abbie leaned back, separating herself from both of them.
Just then, heaping bowls of rice and salume arrived, and the scent made his stomach growl. Once the room had emptied again, Abbie took a bite and then pointed her spoon at them.
“You know what I’m saying. How can you govern people you don’t know? You only understand us as your employees. As your wards, in some sense. But you don’t know us. You don’t know how we live. We have no voice as people to the Families or the Council in general.”
“But unranked don’t care. In polls, apathy levels regarding governance issues are very high,” Deimos pointed out. “This is delicious.”
Georges smiled as he ate. Roman noticed he let Abbie do most of the speaking.
“Of course. It’s that or burn things down. Right? I mean what choices are we presented with? We don’t even have governance at the most basic of levels. Not at the city level or the province level like they do in some ’Verses. You turn off your feelings or they eat you alive.”
“Why not just trust us to do the right thing? How many generations has House Lyons kept this ’Verse, hells the Known Universes in general, prospering?” Deimos asked.
“We aren’t pets, Deimos,” Georges said from his place at the table.
And how could Roman argue with that point? He didn’t think of the unranked as pets, but he couldn’t truthfully say there weren’t other Ranked who did.
“So tell me one proposal. One you like most.”
Abbie looked him square in the eyes and said, “Start simple with the addition of an advisory council. You have an adjunct council to the main Council. It would have elected members on it from across the Federation.”
She took her time and began to tell him about what future she envisioned.
Abbie wanted to twirl and laugh under the clear night sky as they walked from Nyna’s place. The night smelled delicious, a bit of spice, a bit of heady flowers from the nearby hedges and the masculine scent of Roman as he walked beside her.
He’d listened to her, truly listened. And she could tell she’d made some points with him. Just being with him made her happy, which was a mistake, because once he made a choice to back or not back the idea of an advisory council, she wouldn’t be seeing him at all. At least not this often.
And she had to face that seeing him as often as she had was an anomaly and it would end. She was most likely alone in her excitement at being with him this way and it was dangerous to get attached. Especially when they had both stated neither could get involved.
And if something didn’t move soon, she’d have a hard time holding back the more impatient wing of the MRD who wanted to see results after so many years of nothing. Her father and his minions had been agitating to step up their activities.
Things had been set in motion. It scared her even as it made her giddy. She wasn’t prone to either emotion much. In the wake of swallowing so much fear and nearly dying, she’d found in the following years it was often as if her fear had been burned out of her except on very rare occasions when it came hard and fast, threatening to drown her.
The memories of that awful event threatened but there, under twin moons, with Roman at her side, the fear abated. Gods help her if she ever got used to the feeling. Roman wasn’t hers, nor would he ever be.
Georges was pointing out the plaza nearby where the twice weekly markets were held when Roman leaned over to speak in her ear. “I wish I could touch you.”
She nearly groaned. Instead she swallowed hard and nodded. “I do, too.”
“I think perhaps it’s best if I assign Deimos and someone else from my Family to these meetings. I can’t . . . I have a difficult time remembering why we shouldn’t be touching whenever I’m near you.”
Her stomach plummeted. He was right, of course. This contact, even with others around, was torture.
“Yes, of course.” Abbie thought about saying more but Georges and Deimos turned back to them, both speaking at once, and the moment was broken.
Chapter 8
Roman had been looking through Abbie’s proposal for an advisory council as an adjunct to the Governing Council, his mind wandering, caught between his desire and his admiration, when a pounding sounded on his door.
He jumped up and moved to the entry, glad he knew the boys were upstairs and hadn’t awoken yet. Pounding on a door so long before daylight never meant anything good.
A quick look at the entry camera and he saw it was Marcus. He opened the door and Marcus rushed inside.
“Roman, I’m sorry for intruding so early. It’s Jaron, he’s been taken into custody. He’s in lockup and I didn’t know where else to turn.”
Jaron was Marcus’s son. Marcus had raised him from infancy after the child’s mother had abandoned him to take on life in a nunnery in Kwen-lun. Marcus had been barely older than a child at the time, a member of Roman’s father’s household staff and when Roman had married Lindy and ascended to run the Family, he brought Marcus with him as his personal assistant.
They’d been friends ever
since. Abbie had asked, just days prior, if Deimos had any unranked friends, real friends. Jaron had been one just as Marcus had been a true friend to Roman. And his friend needed him right then.
Roman ushered Marcus into the living room and told the housekeeper, who’d come in during the door-pounding, to get some food and drink and then to awaken Deimos.
“Sit down. Tell me everything.”
“They won’t let me see him. I was there for hours but I don’t know anything more than that they’re charging him with murder. Murder, Roman. My son could not kill anyone. You know that. I don’t know what to do.” Marcus, so normally unflappable and capable, was breaking down.
“Dai? What’s wrong? Hello, Marcus.” Deimos came into the room holding the tray he’d commandeered from the housekeeper. The scent of kava and bread rolls with meat and cheese wafted from it.
“When did you see Jaron last?” Roman asked his son.
“Last week. Right after he was discharged and came home. What’s happening? Is he missing?”
Roman pressed a mug of kava into Marcus’s hands and explained all he knew to Deimos.
“That’s ridiculous! Jaron wouldn’t hurt anyone. Remember when we were children and he cried when the ball we’d been throwing knocked that nest down and one of the birds got killed?” Deimos stood, outraged, and Roman noted Marcus relaxing just a bit.
“Well, we need to get in to see him and find out the details. To do that we need a barrister.” Roman knew what had to be done.
“Abbie? Does she defend murder adjudications?” Deimos asked.
“There’s only one way to find out. She’s bound to understand what we need to do next, even if she doesn’t represent the case personally. I’ll go to her flat. I know where she lives.” He stood and went to the comm in the corner and ordered up a conveyance to take him to her place immediately.
“You do? How is that?” Deimos looked up at him, one eyebrow raised in a fine imitation of his father as Roman stepped into his shoes.
