by Nalini Singh
Chapter 36
You are one of mine. I will allow nothing and no one to cause you harm. Ever.
—Ena Mercant to Canto Mercant (September 2053)
ENA HAD SPENT a lifetime watching out for her family. She’d been taught to do it by her grandmother, who’d been taught by her mother. Theirs was a matriarchal line—though when there were boys who showed leadership qualities, they were never pushed aside. Ena’s great-grandmother had been taught her duties by her father.
Canto could’ve been the next male to lead the clan; for a long time, Ena had believed he would be her successor. The angry boy she’d first met had grown into a strong, stable youth who made her proud. He was also intensely protective of the younger children in the clan—he’d held Arwen inside his shields, and even now, he watched over Silver.
When it became clear that Silver was more suited to succeed her, she’d wondered if Canto would resent her choice—they’d both understood that the boy had never been Silent, that his emotions could burn flashfire hot. But Canto had supported her.
“I was hoping you’d see that,” he’d said to her in his direct way. “I’m not suited to stand where you stand, Grandmother. Silver has the patience and diplomacy to take the family into the future.”
When that future came, when Silver stood in Ena’s place, she knew Canto would be staunch in his support. Magdalene’s boy knew how to back his people. Once given, his loyalty was a hard thing to break. Which was why Ena wanted to put her eyes on Payal Rao.
From her research on the woman—research Ena and Magdalene had done together, without involving anyone else in the clan—there was little to commend Payal as Canto’s partner in life. Ena’s grandson might have his rough edges, but the boy overflowed with emotion. He loved Ena even though Ena had been raised in Silence, had come to adulthood in Silence, and could never openly show him what he was to her.
Payal Rao was like Ena. Hard. Distant. Calculating.
Canto deserved so much more.
Not that Ena would get in his way—she’d known from their first meeting that this boy had inherited the Mercant will. He would not be manipulated, would not be molded. He would be who he chose to be. So she’d leave him be, but she would make sure Payal Rao understood that she wasn’t a Mercant and never would be—and if that was her reason for playing off Canto’s memories and worming her way into his life, she could just worm her way back out.
Ena would wait to pay her back for hurting Canto. She could be as patient as a spider waiting for prey—and she had no mercy in her for those who hurt the children of her family.
Today, she stared out at the manicured grounds of the small residence she kept in Moscow now that three of her grandchildren were based here. The evening sun gilded everything in sight. A lovely place, but she didn’t truly need it; Valentin had assigned her a residence within the bear den, and all the small bears there toddled after her and called her “Babushka Ena.”
She spent far more time in that residence than she’d believed she would; after a lifetime in Silence, she’d expected to be overwhelmed. She could never live in the den as Silver did, but she could tolerate it for days at a time. So if she had to sacrifice this residence once Payal Rao knew of it, so be it.
This was just a place to rest her head now and then. It wasn’t her home. Only family and a rare few others were ever granted the privilege of visiting her clifftop residence. Payal Rao was unlikely to ever be one of those people.
Canto’s vehicle turned in to her short drive.
As he knew all her entry codes, Ena took a seat in an elegant chair of gray velvet with curved legs on one side of a round table set with a tea service. An identical chair faced her, while she’d left ample space in between for Canto’s chair.
“Grandmother.” His voice preceded him into the room, his presence as big and stubbornly him as always.
“Canto.” Ena didn’t smile; she had been too long in this world in Silence. But her heart warmed at seeing him, this grandson of hers who argued with her the most of all.
He took the hand of the woman who stood at his side. “Payal, meet my grandmother. Grandmother, this is Payal.”
Ena took in the other woman at a glance: a simple but well-tailored dress in burgundy, black heels, her hair in a neat ponytail, and her makeup subtle. The perfect Psy CEO. Not at all the kind of woman who was suited to Canto’s wild heart.
“A pleasure,” Ena said, because she hadn’t been raised by feral wolves. “Please take a seat.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” Payal said as she sat. “I’m honored to meet the elder of Canto’s family.”
Pretty words, Ena thought, but what else would one expect from the daughter of Pranath Rao? The man was as slick as a snake, a cobra hiding in plain sight. “Of course,” she said, and picked up the teapot. “I would be remiss not to greet the chosen partner of my grandchild.”
“I can pour,” Payal offered.
Ena allowed it, better to watch her as she did so. Canto, meanwhile, glanced at Ena, then Payal. Ena waited for a telepathic defense of Payal, but surprisingly, her grandson said nothing. Confident Payal didn’t need it? Poor child. He was clearly blinded by the past in which a child Payal had saved his life.
But that had been a long time ago.
They spoke of polite things, of the Anchor Representative Association, and of Payal’s rise to the Ruling Coalition. Canto also told her he’d seen Arwen and Pavel, and Ena updated him on another family member.
It was all terribly pleasant, the daggers hidden away.
Then Canto’s body went rigid, his jaw working. Payal’s attention whiplashed to him.
“Back spasm,” he bit out, taking a short, sharp breath. “Side effect of surgery.” His chest rose and fell, his skin stretched tight.
Ena wanted to wrap him up in cotton wool, protect him from the world, but she’d learned that for an impossibility long ago. Canto had demanded to be left alone to fight such battles.
In front of her, Payal moved her hand to place it over Canto’s fisted one. He flipped his fist, wove his fingers through hers. Their hands locked. Then Payal turned back to Ena, and her expression, it was as closed as it had been when they began . . . but the pulse in her neck, it jumped.
Ena frowned inwardly.
“Payal, stop it.” A harsh order from Canto.
Jaw set, Payal shook her head. “No.” Clipped, hard, unmoving.
Ena had no idea what was going on, but Canto was glaring at Payal—who was now holding his gaze without flinching.
Ena felt a stirring of approval. She’d always known that Canto had a strong personality. The boy did like to get his own way—and he often succeeded, even with Ena. But it appeared Payal Rao was strong enough to stand against him—and not inclined to pander to him in an effort to get in his good graces. Hmm . . .
A bead of sweat formed on Payal’s temple, and her pulse, it was even more jagged now.
“I swear—” Canto began, his words a growl.
That was when Payal’s mask slipped . . . but not in the way Ena had expected. Eyes going inky black, she glared at Canto. “Would you stand by if I was in pain?” she demanded, her cheeks flushed. “Especially when you could do something about it?” She wrenched at her hand.
Canto refused to let go. “This is different.”
Payal leaned toward him. “Why?”
“Because,” Canto all but growled.
Payal took a deep breath and shifted the conversation to the telepathic plane. Ena could sense it in the energy that arced between them, in the emotions that pulsed off Canto . . . and were tightly, tightly contained in Payal.
She saw also that Canto wasn’t in as much pain as he should be—she’d witnessed a spasm a couple of years ago, had seen how it made his tendons arch white against his skin, sweat pop out on his brow, while his eyes went blank as he tur
ned all his energy into riding the agony.
Ena took another look at Payal.
She was sweating, her pulse still erratic, and her skin bloodless.
Well then.
Ena was not a woman without prejudice, but she was also not a woman who held on to those prejudices when faced with uncomfortable truths. That Payal was assisting Canto in some way was clear, and for that alone, Ena would’ve been in charity with her. But what sealed the deal was when a fuming Payal reached over and brushed a strand of hair off Canto’s forehead.
The two had forgotten Ena was in the room.
Payal Rao, cutthroat CEO, was so focused on Canto that she’d forgotten about the other predator in the room. Not only was she focused on Canto, she couldn’t help caring for him even when so angry that steam was coming out of her ears.
Canto was furious, too—and he could be intimidating when angry. Which was why he made it a point to hold back most of the time. He wasn’t holding back today, and Payal wasn’t shrinking away in the least.
Making a rumbling sound in his throat, he lifted their clasped hands and kissed her knuckles. Only then did Payal startle and turn to Ena. Color a sudden hot flush on her face, she said, “My apologies. That was incredibly rude.”
“No, it was rather interesting.” Ena took a sip of her tea. “Feeling better, Canto dear?”
Her grandson gave her a narrow-eyed look, pain no longer a shadow on his beautiful features. He’d never worked that out, had Canto, just how beautiful he was as a man. Despite his paternity, he reminded Ena very strongly of her own father. He’d been a beautiful man, too. And a kind one.
Canto had inherited that core of kindness, too, albeit with a rougher edge.
“Spasm is over,” he muttered, and grabbed a teacup, then made a face and put it back. “I’m going to make coffee.” Then her bad-tempered grandson turned his chair around and headed out to her kitchen area.
Ena didn’t cook, but the residence had come fully stocked.
“Tell me,” Ena said to Payal. “Is he truly not in pain any longer?”
“Yes.” Payal turned from where she’d been looking at the doorway through which Canto had left. “It’s gone. He told me it happens very rarely. This is the first one in two years.”
Ena nodded. “Yes. It has to do with the wiring in his spine—it builds up some type of tension. There’s no safe way to release it.”
“He says a minute or two of pain every two years is worth it,” Payal said, not sounding like she agreed.
Of course she wouldn’t. Because coldhearted Payal Rao cared for gruff, softhearted Canto Mercant. How did Ena’s grandchildren keep doing this to her? Silver with an alpha bear. Arwen with another bear. Now this. “You saved his life as a child. For this, I thank you.”
Payal met her eyes the same way she’d met Canto’s—without flinching. “The teacher was hurting Canto. I stopped him. As you stopped Binh Fernandez.”
Canto wheeled his chair back into the room right then, no coffee in hand. “It’s percolating,” he muttered, then raised an eyebrow at Ena. “You’ve never told me—why did Binh have to go when you already had a contractual way to take over guardianship?”
Ena considered her words, decided it was time. “My dear Canto, it wasn’t me.”
He frowned, parted his lips, closed his mouth. “An actual accident?”
“No,” Payal murmured, her eyes on Ena, “it was your mother.”
Ena inclined her head, as Canto sucked in a breath. “Magdalene?” Shaking his head, he said, “My mother is the least aggressive person in the family.”
“She’s also Ena Mercant’s daughter,” Payal said. “And Ena Mercant protects her own.”
The child understood this family, Ena thought. Not only that, she thought like them. And she protected like them. Ena knew all about Karishma Rao, buried in a lovely boarding school that had strict laws of confidentiality. Enough to protect a girl who wouldn’t rise to Pranath Rao’s standards of perfection.
All of it paid for through one of Payal Rao’s private accounts.
“Mother, huh.” Canto rubbed his smooth-shaven jawline. “She never said.”
“She didn’t do it to buy a way out of your anger,” Ena said. “She did it because Binh Fernandez hurt her child after promising to care for him. Magdalene does not forgive such slights.”
What Ena didn’t say was that giving up Canto had fractured something in Magdalene. That was why she’d never had another child, though she could’ve made another fertilization agreement after she and Binh dissolved the agreement that had produced Canto.
To then learn that Binh had abused the child she’d wanted to keep with every ounce of her being? No, Magdalene would never forgive. As Ena wouldn’t forgive herself for not foreseeing Magdalene’s reaction to giving birth.
Given their possessive natures, Mercants rarely, rarely entered into agreements where their children would be raised fully by others, but it was Magdalene herself who’d brought forward the proposal when Fernandez approached her. She’d been very interested in the genetic match and confirmed that she had no problem with a dual agreement as requested by the Fernandez family.
Ena had thought her Silent, had believed in her pragmatic take on the situation.
They’d both been wrong.
“The final decision was mine, Mother,” Magdalene had said to her some years ago, after Ena apologized for her mistake. “You told me to think long and hard on it, advised me to do my research. I thought I could handle it.” A hand pressed to her belly. “But then I carried him for nine months, and I felt his mind awaken . . .”
The only good thing in it all was that they’d been able to save Canto.
Such an angry boy he’d been, but even then, he’d been fiercely loyal. To 3K, the little girl who’d murdered for him.
Watching the two of them together now, Ena was quite convinced the adult Payal Rao would murder for him, too. So. “We’ll have tea at the Sea House next time,” she said as the two were about to leave.
Canto was still scowling, but his lips tugged up into a slight smile, and the voice that touched her mind was smug in a way he rarely was: I knew you’d like her.
One does not gloat, Canto.
He laughed out loud as he exited, causing Payal to look at him with soft eyes . . . and Ena’s long-frozen heart to threaten to thaw. “It appears,” she said to the slinky black cat that had prowled into the room, “the family is to expand again.”
CLINICAL NOTES ON PAYAL RAO
JAYA STORM, E.
Patient is very self-aware and conscious of the damage inflicted by her childhood, and is searching for a way to balance her powerful emotional response to the man she loves* against her need to maintain psychic and mental stability.
Her childhood protections did the job required, but they were a blunt tool. I have advised her that we can use more subtle methods to allow her to find the control she needs without losing herself. I have also received permission to speak about her case on an anonymous basis with other Es who have more specialized knowledge in certain areas.
Most specifically, I intend to speak to Sascha Duncan regarding custom shields, and to Dr. Farukh Duvall about the issue of childhood trauma and how it interacts with brain chemistry. I also need to find—or become—an expert in how childhood trauma may affect the development of psychic pathways in all children, and anchors in particular.
There do not appear to be any anchors who are also empaths, which is a critical piece of information in itself, but I intend to further my knowledge of anchors to the highest degree to better serve my patient—and any future patients from Designation A.
While this is not my area of specialization, my skills appear to transfer over very well to this particular anchor. When I work with patients in a coma, it is to coax them back to consciousness. With Payal, I feel as if I’m
teaching her how to walk out of a different kind of darkness.
She is an incredibly intelligent woman and—given her past—could easily have gone off the rails, yet she has risen to her current high-level position through sheer grit and the help of a limited slate of medications, none of which are calibrated correctly for her current psychic and mental state. I will be consulting with a prescribing physician to get those levels corrected—with Payal having a final say on who that physician will be, though I will offer my recommendations.
For now, I’ve given her mental exercises that should begin to bring peace to her mind without the bluntness of her previous shields.
*This is my view. The patient has not yet put a label on what she feels for him.
Chapter 37
I’d like to book it out for the entire day. I’ll make the payment immediately on receipt of your invoice.
—E-mail sent by Canto Mercant
JUST OVER A week after surviving Ena, and seven days after her first meeting with Jaya, Payal was happier than she’d been in her entire life. She’d had nine whole days with Canto, nine days with a man she trusted with all of herself, nine days where she could just be Payal without the masks she wore in the world.
It had been aggravating at times, frustrating often, and wonderful always.
Now she looked at the image Canto had given her and tried to work out where it was that he was asking her to teleport them. But the image, while distinctive enough for a teleport lock, was of a stone wall marred by multiple small pieces of carved-in graffiti. All seemed to be entwined initials.
“Ready?” he asked.
Payal nodded and put her hand on his shoulder. Other than clasped hands, they hadn’t had any intimate contact since the day she’d touched him in the gym, and to feel his muscle and warmth now made her breath catch.