by Ivy Smoak
“He won’t do it in front of all these people. He’d lure you somewhere more private. And I won’t let that happen. Besides, we’re not sure yet. We have to narrow down the possibilities. It’s time for test #3.”
“But…his office is kind of private. He could just close the blinds and have his way with me.”
“I hope he does. In the sexy way. Not the murder way. But right now you need to focus, you scoundrel.” She tossed me a takeout bag. “And don’t forget about the werewolf test.”
I took a deep breath. I could do this. “Got it.” I returned to Tanner’s office. “Sorry about that. You hungry?”
“I already had lunch…” he started.
I ignored him and dumped the food on his desk. “Let’s see…we’ve got garlic fried-rice. Garlic bread. Oh, and that Papa John’s dipping sauce. You know, the garlic butter stuff.”
“I’m seeing a theme here,” he said with a smile.
“What’s that? All the best foods in the world?”
“No. Garlic.”
“Huh, what a weird coincidence. Is garlic a problem for you?” I unwrapped the food and slid it across his desk. The smell of garlic was practically unbearable, even for my non-vampire self. I could hardly imagine how he felt. He was probably moments away from melting.
“Nope, no problem.” He grabbed the bread and took a big bite. And then he scooped up some of the rice.
Very interesting. So he wasn’t afraid of garlic. But all of it was cooked garlic. Maybe vampires were only allergic to raw garlic? I’d have to consult the literature after work. But in the meantime, I had a few other tests to run.
I loosened one of my earrings and then shook my head to make it fall out. But it didn’t work, so I shook harder.
“Are you having a seizure?” he asked.
“No. I’m just…damn! My earring fell out.” I fumbled with it to try to get it back in but purposefully failed. “Would you mind?” I held the earring out for him.
“Sure.”
“These silver earrings are great, but they’re so loose.” I stared at him hard as I said the word silver. If he was a werewolf, touching silver would be like putting his hand on a hot stove. Or something like that. Burn, baby, burn.
He didn’t flinch, though. He just grabbed the earring and walked over behind my chair. A chill ran down my spine as he gently pushed my hair out of the way. For a moment I forgot the fact that I was supposed to be figuring out his secret. All I wanted was for him to keep his hands on me. But as soon as I thought it, they fell away.
Maybe I had it all wrong. Maybe he was just a mind reader. Or maybe he kept backing away from me because it was hard to control himself around the sweet scent of my blood. I swallowed hard.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I said. “By the way, do you want some water?” I took a bottle out of my purse and set it on his desk. “I have the best trick. Rather than paying for stupid bottled water, I always just fill it up at the church on the way to work. They have this pool of free water that they say has been blessed. How cool is that?” And this holy water is going to disintegrate you, foul demon.
“You know people put their hands in that, right?”
I shrugged. But really I was dying inside. Even going near the holy water had given me the willies. SO. MANY. GERMS. I was fully prepared to toss my bottle in the trash as soon as this test was over. “Is that why it tastes so flavorful?” Barf.
“I’m not going to drink that. But you can pour it on me if you’re worried that I’m an evil demon.”
“Say what now?” I pretended to be shocked by his accusation.
“You really think I don’t know what you’re doing?”
“Before you say anything else ridiculous, I have a present for you.” I pulled a wrapped package out of my purse and tossed it to him.
He caught it. “I’m somewhat terrified to see what’s in here.”
I forced a laugh. “Don’t be. It’s totally normal. Don’t people always bring you presents after you sign with their firm?”
“No. Because that borders on bribery.”
“What?” Is it? “Ha. No. It only would have been bribery if I’d given you this before you signed. Just open it.”
He ripped the paper and immediately looked bewildered. “What am I looking at here?”
“Socks.”
“Socks?” His bottom lip quivered. “I never thought anyone would set me free…”
“Really?” I had to pick my jaw up off the floor.
“No, I’m not a house elf. And I’m not a vampire or a werewolf or a demon. But if you promise not to tell a soul, I’ll tell you my real secret.”
“Sure.” Is he really going to tell me?! I was cautiously optimistic.
“I mean it. Do I have your word?” He seemed strangely serious. His acting skills combined with my gullibility was a dangerous combination for my sanity.
“Fine. I won’t tell a soul.”
He hesitated for a moment, like he was wondering if he could trust me. But then he leaned in and whispered, “I’m a genie.”
I laughed. How stupid did he think I was? “Touché. I deserved that.”
“I’m serious.” Tanner walked over and shut his office door. “That’s why we can’t be together.” He sighed as he sat back down, as if his confession was a weight off his shoulders.
Fine. I’ll play along. “Oh of course. And let me guess - your previous master wished for you to torture me?”
“No. Ava wouldn’t have been that wasteful with her wishes.”
“Well, Mr. Genie, can I have three wishes?”
“Yes.” He leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head as if this were the most normal, casual conversation in the world.
“Okay then. I’d like a magic carpet ride.” Let’s see you act your way through this one, genie boy.
Tanner nearly fell out of his chair as he sprung forward. His eyes narrowed. “Dear Lord, why would you wish for that? Magic carpet rides are freaking terrifying. Imagine flying around thousands of feet above the ground on a floppy piece of fabric. With nothing to hold on to.”
I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I should laugh or have something witty to add, but I had nothing.
“When I got caught being unfaithful to the evil Princess Karima,” he continued, “the sultan almost sentenced me to death by magic carpet ride. But then he reconsidered and sentenced me to an even worse fate: eternal life as a genie.”
Sultan? Evil Princess? What? “Well that’s a convenient story to avoid granting my wish.” Definitely a demon.
He laughed.
And suddenly the tension that had been like a wall between us the past few weeks started to dissipate. The tests hadn’t revealed anything about his secret, but his willingness to joke about genies put me completely at ease around him. So at ease that I felt comfortable asking, “So why does being a genie prevent us from being together?”
“A lot of reasons. Are you familiar with the brown recluse spider?”
“A little.” A lot. I had been bitten by a spider a few years ago. The little bastard had gotten away, so I was left to look up symptoms online. That led me to a Google image search of brown recluse bites…
“So you’ve seen the pictures of how their bites eat away at your skin cells?”
I nodded. The images of the zombie-like bites were permanently seared in my brain.
“That’s what would happen to you if you ever were to come in contact with uh…me.” He glanced down at his crotch. “The technical term is alqadib almushtaeilat aljaniyu, which roughly translates to flaming genie penis.”
I burst out laughing. Now he’s making up words? I had to hand it to him, he was really committing to this lie.
“It’s really not funny,” he said. “You try going 300 years without having sex.”
“Well, let me be the first to tell you that you’ve aged magnificently. You don’t look a day over 30.”
“I appreciate that. Now, do you have any more question
s about my true form, or shall we get back to these graphics? I may not be able to die, but my businesses sure as hell can.”
I almost pushed him to tell me more. I was sure that if I asked enough questions his silly story would fall apart. Just like it had when I’d figured out he was part of the Society. But questioning him further would most likely ruin whatever weird understanding we’d come to. Besides, all of it was moot. Because we’d grinded pretty hard at Odegaard. And I’d felt no burning sensation on my crotch. He was just a dirty liar. Just like he’d lied about the FBI being after him.
It was pretty clear he didn’t want to discuss his actual secret. But I was 97.5% positive that he was a demon. Why did I always have to fall for the bad boys?
Chapter 35 - My Second Wish
Tuesday
“I can’t believe we didn’t think of that sooner!” said Chastity. “Of course he’s a genie. That’s why the Society’s logo is a genie lamp. And the whole three wish thing.”
I laughed. “He’s not a genie, Chastity. And whether he is or not has nothing to do with the Society anyway. It’s not like he owns the whole operation. He’s just a member. He was definitely just messing with me. But on the bright side, he liked all of our graphics.” I opened my laptop to get back to work. That lasted for about three minutes.
Chastity spun my chair around to face her, not caring at all that I was in the middle of typing. “I’ve got it.”
“Got what?”
“Your first genie wish. He said you could have three, right?’
“Society wishes?” I asked. “Or personal genie wishes from Tanner?”
“From Tanner. Did you ever finalize your wish for the magic carpet ride?”
I kind of wanted to get back to work, but my curiosity got the best of me. “Nope. And yes, he said I have three wishes.”
“And are there any rules? Like about not killing people? Or not being able to make people fall in love?”
“We didn’t get that far.” And then something clicked. Rules. Wishes. “Holy shit, Chastity! You’re a genius!”
“I am? But I didn’t even tell you my idea yet.”
I got up and ran to Tanner’s office. Evie had long since stopped trying to prevent me from going into his office whenever I pleased. Tanner looked up as I stormed in.
“Are you stalking me?” he asked.
I was beaming. He was back to messing with me. “Yup.” I closed the door and sat down. “I know what I want for my next wish.”
“Your next wish? I never granted the magic carpet ride, so technically you still have three.”
“Not your fake genie wishes. I mean my Society wishes. I’ve only used one. How do I use another?”
Tanner lowered his eyebrows. “On the app.”
I pulled out my phone and opened the app. “Where do I click?”
“The genie lamp logo, of course.”
“Ah. They really should make that more clear.” I clicked the logo and a new screen popped up:
You have three wishes. What is your second wish?
I typed in my wish and hit submit.
“So what’d you wish for?” asked Tanner.
“None of your business. But if you must know, I wished to learn all of Ryder Storm’s secrets.”
Tanner had no response. He just stared at me as I turned and walked triumphantly out of his office.
Gotcha bitch.
An hour later when I looked up from my computer to stretch, I noticed a little black envelope sitting on my desk. Where did that come from!? The obvious answer was Tanner. But how had he put it there without me knowing? He was so damn sneaky.
For once it was my turn to interrupt Chastity in the middle of work. I spun her chair around. She jumped and almost tossed her laptop on the floor.
“What the…” She squealed with excitement the second she saw the envelope. “Open it!”
I slowly broke the gold wax seal and pulled out the thick white parchment. I cleared my throat and read: "Raven Black, it would be my pleasure to escort you to an exclusive exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art this evening at 8:30. Signed, Ryder Storm.”
YES! But what did this have to do with his secrets? Was he a world-class painter? I’d find out soon enough…
***
I had polished off half a bottle of champagne by the time my limo rolled up to the Met. It was the only way to prevent myself from hyperventilating. My mind was running a mile a minute, second-guessing every decision I’d made since I got the date card.
Is this too much cleavage? Yes.
Are these the right Odegaards? Definitely not. Choosing one of 74 pairs had been my worst nightmare. Eventually I had just played eeny, meeny, miny, moe and landed on the snake-skin Medusas. So I wore them. Ha. Yeah right. I didn’t have the confidence to wear those things in public. Instead I just wore some sparkly pumps.
Here goes nothing. I took a deep breath and got ready to step out of the limo. I expected to be attacked by paparazzi as I made my way down the red carpet to the doors of the Met…but there was no red carpet. And no paparazzi. Because this wasn’t the Met Gala. It was just the Met on a random Tuesday. Duh. The only person who even looked at me was a hotdog vendor, and that was just to tell me that I looked like I was in the mood for one of his nice juicy wieners.
See? Too much cleavage.
I tugged my top up and rushed up the stairs to the Met. The view inside took my breath away. And I’m not talking about the view of the great hall. I’m talking about the view of Ryder in his maroon and gold suit. He was sexy when he was Tanner, but when he transformed into Ryder, when he showed his confidence with his man bun and wild tuxedos…that was when I really found him irresistible.
I tried to do my sexiest walk towards him, but I only managed to trip and nearly break my ankle. Fuck! I threw my hands out to catch myself, but there was no need. Because Ryder caught me in his strong arms.
“Are you stalking me?” he asked, while still balancing me in his arms.
If I hadn’t been before, I definitely would have been now. Because this would have been an epic meet-cute. “Technically you’re the one that happened to show up when I fell. I believe that means you’re stalking me.” I patted his chest. All I wanted to do was rip his shirt off.
He smiled as he steadied me back on my feet. “Your dress is stunning.”
“You too.” His dress is stunning? I coughed to try to distract him from my stupid comment. And I shouldn’t have said something nice, anyway. I was supposed to be playing hard to get. I took a deep breath and reminded myself of the plan. I wasn’t interested in him. We were boss and employee. Nothing more. I tried to think of a way to change my compliment into an insult. I pointed at his tux. “I know this is an art exhibit, but I didn’t realize we were supposed to wear the art.”
“You look like a work of art as well,” he said.
No! I wasn’t complimenting you. It was supposed to be a sick burn. Why did he have to be so dense? “Are you stalking me?” I used his own line against him.
But he wasn’t fazed at all. He just grabbed my hand and twirled me. The way he looked at me as my dress flared out made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. If he had finished it off with a dip, I would have lost all control and made out with him right then and there.
“You’re just in time for the tour. Shall we?” He put his hand on the small of my back and led me to one of the smaller rooms of the gallery. A dozen couples were milling around admiring the paintings. Based on their appearances - all super attractive, dressed to the nines, and wearing black wristbands - I assumed they were all Society members.
The docent cleared her throat and asked for our attention. Everyone gathered around and she started describing some ugly Jacques Louis David painting that was apparently worth millions.
“What do you think?” asked Ryder.
“Of the painting? It’s fine.”
He nodded. “Insightful critique. Want to know what I think of it?”
&nb
sp; “Sure.”
“I thought you’d be more excited. You wanted to know all my secrets, did you not?”
I just stared at him.
“Unfortunately telling secrets is strictly forbidden by the Society. But you’d be surprised by how much you can learn about a person based on their art critiques.”
“Oh yeah? What did my critique reveal about my soul?”
“That you’re too shy to say what you really think. That you’re scared of embarrassing yourself and saying the wrong thing.”
I opened my mouth to protest. Nothing came out. He had gotten me exactly right. I was always worried about saying the wrong thing. So I usually overthought everything and somehow ended up saying something way worse than the original thing in my head.
“See?”
“Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants. What do you think of the painting?”
Ryder ran his fingers along his five o’clock shadow as he stared at the painting. It looked like he was really studying it.
And I was studying him. Because all I wanted was to feel that stubble against my face again. God, why did he have to be so devastatingly handsome? The fact that he’d been an ass for weeks just melted away when I was looking at him. I bit my lip.
“This is actually one of my favorite paintings,” he said. “Do you know what it’s about?”
“No.”
“It depicts the death of Socrates. Politicians accused him of corrupting the youth and gave him the choice of renouncing his beliefs or drinking hemlock. He chose the hemlock.”
“Ah, well it’s clear what your critique says about you. You’re a showoff.”
Ryder laughed. “That wasn’t even my critique. I was just giving you some context so that you’d understand why the use of negative space in the piece was so bold. And why the harmonious palette is so evocative.”
“Yup, you’re definitely a showoff. Do you even know what those words mean?”
“No clue. I just heard some douche use them last time I was here.”
Now it was my turn to laugh.
“Really though, I think the message behind this painting is so important. Imagine if everyone was so willing to stand up for what they believe in.”
