My smile morphed into a grin as I typed my reply. I was just leaving. I’ll be home before they arrive.
STAY PUT. The reply was so fast, I wondered if he had pretyped it. I’d hate to think I was so predictable.
I didn’t bother with a reply. If he was actually monitoring the cameras, he’d see me leave. Otherwise, he’d certainly notice when my tracker started moving. Either way, I wasn’t going to sit around for who knew how long waiting for his security team. My head ached at just the thought.
The coffee shop was close enough that I could walk home, but that was sure to make Ian apoplectic. And while I didn’t really think Serenity was unsafe, we were at war and some basic safety precautions were prudent.
I ordered a House transport and waited until it arrived before leaving the building. I didn’t see Ian’s second security detail, so he was sure to be livid. I resisted the urge to tap into our House security cameras to see for myself.
The transport dropped me at the private family entrance without incident. I cleared the new security checkpoint then waved my embedded identity chip over the reader at the door. The reader beeped as it verified that my chip and biometrics matched. The door opened, and I let myself into the ornately carved stone building I’d called home for twenty-one of my twenty-five years.
The heavy stone blocked some of the wireless signals, and I sighed in relief. I stepped out of the entryway and a shadow detached itself from the draperies.
I had a blaster in hand before my brain recognized that I wasn’t being attacked by a stranger. No, I was being stalked by Ian Bishop.
I wasn’t sure that was an improvement.
Chapter 2
“Lady von Hasenberg,” Ian said in his precise, clipped accent. Fury etched lines in his handsome face, but his deep voice still slid over my skin like cashmere. “A moment, please.”
I’d kept my name during my marriage, one of the benefits of being the daughter of a High House. Instead, Gregory had changed his last name to gain the power of mine. That power felt very flimsy with Ian glaring down at me.
Ian Bishop was tall and lean, with broad shoulders that narrowed to a trim waist. He wore a charcoal three-piece suit with a pale blue shirt and matching tie. I’d never seen him in anything other than a suit or tuxedo, but my imagination was more than willing to try. I’d bet a good deal of money that vast expanses of delicious muscle hid under the layers of fabric.
He was devilishly handsome, with a strong jaw and icy blue eyes. His hair was dark blond, shorter on the sides and longer on top. It was continually tousled, making a woman imagine running her fingers through it to smooth it.
Or maybe that was just me.
I pulled my tattered public persona around me as I returned my blaster to the clutch holster. At a meter sixty-eight, I was the shortest member of my family by far. I made up for it by wearing towering heels. But even with the added height, Ian still topped me by at least ten centimeters.
While I’d never quite mastered Mother’s trick of looking down on everyone regardless of height, I also refused to let him believe that he could look down on me, so I met his gaze head-on. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then, by all appearances, his was a lonely, desolate place. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ian Bishop was more than met the eye.
“Director Bishop, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, all false innocence.
A muscle flexed in his jaw and I could practically see him counting to ten in his head. “You ignored a direct order and put yourself in danger,” he said at last.
“No, I ignored a direct suggestion and arrived home unscathed.” I smiled sweetly. “Was there anything else?”
“Am I the director of security for House von Hasenberg?” Ian asked.
I nodded obligingly.
“And are you part of House von Hasenberg?”
“Last I checked,” I said drily.
“So therefore, when I make a suggestion concerning your safety, you would be well-advised to follow it,” he bit out. “I know it is difficult for you to drag your mind away from gossip and parties long enough to pay attention, but I don’t make suggestions for my own health; I do it to keep you safe.”
I stiffened and a fleeting expression crossed his face, too fast to identify. My training solidified around me like armor, distancing me from the fury blazing through my system. If he was cold, then I was ice.
I tilted up my chin. “If your security plan is so fragile that a single change causes it to crumble, that is not my failure.” He started to reply, but I cut him off. “Director Bishop, this has been delightful, as usual, but now I must go. So many parties to think about, you know.”
It was a mistake to let him know that he’d gotten to me, but I couldn’t stop myself. I swept away, the only sign of my anger the staccato beat of my heels against the marble floor.
Anger carried me to my suite before burning out. Ian Bishop wasn’t worth the headache. He’d made it abundantly clear that he was not interested years ago. I still cringed when I thought back to my awkward attempts to flirt with him when he had first arrived as a mere bodyguard.
He’d had a plan, one he wasn’t going to let an “empty-headed princess” deter him from. Even seven years ago he’d been a real charmer. But what he lacked in charm, he made up for in sheer, pigheaded determination.
In just three years he’d moved from bodyguard to director of security—and no one was quite certain how. The position usually only went to someone with decades of experience, not a kid who, at the time, hadn’t even hit twenty-five. Now that he’d entered his late twenties, he was still at least three decades younger than his peers.
I flopped onto my canopy bed and let the curtain fall closed behind me. Custom-designed, the bed acted as an isolation chamber that blocked most wireless signals. The curtains were three layers of a fine metal mesh that connected at the top and bottom to metal embedded in the canopy and under the mattress. The metal cage directed signals around the bed and canceled out the signals in the space inside, leaving me in blissful quiet.
I’d also completely shielded my office on the pretense of security, and the rest of my suite had a smaller amount of shielding hidden behind the paint and plaster. Just because I was a science experiment didn’t mean I had to be miserable in my own home.
I sighed in relief as my headache started to subside. Even when I wasn’t focusing on a signal, my nanos and brain were decoding it, like a computer running in the background. I hadn’t yet found a way to turn it off, but the human body was remarkably adaptable. When I’d first been modified, I couldn’t stand unshielded spaces for more than an hour or two without passing out. Today, I’d been out for eight hours and while my head hurt, I was still functional.
I had stayed out longer than I’d planned, and I had another event tonight. I had enough time for a nap, but then I’d have to get up and dressed for House Chan’s betrothal ball. Their only daughter was marrying a wealthy businessman and rumors indicated she might not be thrilled about her upcoming nuptials. I needed to see if the rumors were true. Plus, I’d already agreed to be House von Hasenberg’s ambassador for the event, and House Chan was an ally. If I didn’t show, there would be consequences.
There were always consequences.
“Alfred,” I said to my suite computer, “wake me up in two hours. Until then, do not disturb me unless it’s urgent.”
A chime indicated acceptance of the command. With my com in the isolation cage with me, my messages would automatically be routed to my suite computer, allowing the system to wake me if something important came through.
With that final thought, I dropped into sleep with the ease of someone who’d learned to grab sleep whenever possible.
The gentle alarm brought me to instant awareness. My headache was gone. I felt good enough that tonight might not be terrible. I stretched and enjoyed the quiet for another minute before I opened the curtain and let in the cacophony of signals.
I dressed with care, awar
e that I was representing House von Hasenberg tonight. With synthesizers able to turn out faux haute couture in a matter of hours, it became a status symbol to wear gowns made by hand, fashioned from real materials and not their synth equivalents, even though it was difficult to tell the two apart at a glance.
The strapless evening gown I chose was made of purple silk in a shade so dark it appeared black in all but the brightest light. The fitted bodice hugged my chest, while the full skirt hid my heels and made me appear taller. Dresses were the battle armor of choice for Consortium ladies, and this one promised to hold its own.
I swept my long hair up into a complicated twist and pinned it into place with the ease of long practice. My hair was naturally a mousy brown, a shade that did nothing for my fair complexion. I’d endlessly tinkered with the color over the years before settling on my current shade of light brown with subtle blond and red highlights.
Hair done, I considered my makeup options, waving through my presets. Each option overlaid my face in the mirror, showing me a real-time preview of the result, while the individual settings were displayed on the right. The current trend was for gem-encrusted everything—eyelids, brows, temples, and even eyelashes—though I didn’t know how anyone could stand it.
Luckily, being a von Hasenberg had its perks—I didn’t follow trends, I made them.
I picked a simple style of deeply lined, dark smoky eyes and natural lips. I altered the eye shadow color to hint at the purple in my dress. Even so, I’d look positively unadorned compared to most ladies tonight, which would make me stand out. I pressed the application button and closed my eyes. Two seconds later, a beep signaled I was done.
A final check in the mirror confirmed I was as ready as I was going to get. I picked up the clutch that held my blaster. It was an unwritten rule that you could bring weapons to a Consortium event as long as you did it discreetly. Showing up with a long gun slung over one shoulder would be gauche—and would probably get you barred from entry—but five hidden blasters? Totally cool.
I exited my suite to find Ian loitering in the hall outside my door. He straightened as I approached. He’d changed into a black tuxedo, and I had the sinking feeling that I wasn’t going to appreciate whatever he was about to say.
“Director Bishop, here to snipe at me again?” I asked.
His calm expression didn’t change. It was nearly impossible to bait the man when he wasn’t already in a fury, but that didn’t mean I ever stopped trying. He brought out the worst in me.
“I am here to escort you to House Chan’s ball,” he said.
“Where is Edward?” Edward was my normal evening guard. He was a nice young man with an easy attitude and a quick smile—so, basically, the opposite of the man in front of me.
“He is providing additional coverage for Lord Ferdinand tonight,” Ian said.
“Of course he is,” I muttered. Louder, I continued, “Very well, let’s get this over with.”
Ian offered me his elbow and butterflies took flight in my stomach. I sternly told them it didn’t mean anything, it was just a polite gesture—Edward did the same, usually with a wink and a flourish.
My hand still had the slightest tremble as I took Ian’s arm.
I schooled my expression and let him lead me to the waiting House transport. With the war, we were no longer allowed to take public transports. He helped me into the vehicle then followed and sat across from me. He leaned back and the shadows embraced him.
I glanced away before I became entranced by the play of light and dark across his cheekbones. The man was entirely too handsome for my peace of mind. I needed a distraction.
“Have there been active threats against the House here in Serenity?” I asked, meeting his eyes. “Is that why security is tighter tonight?” I hadn’t come across anything, but I’d been out of commission for most of the afternoon. If new info had come in today, I wouldn’t have seen it.
Ian stared hard at me, but I didn’t look away. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “No,” he said, “nothing credible. Just a feeling I can’t shake.”
I nodded. Ian had long since proven he had good instincts.
“Why do you accept a feeling without question but disregard an order made for your safety?”
I shrugged. “I trust your gut. If you had explained yourself this afternoon, I would’ve listened. I thought you were just being your normal paranoid self. Despite what you think, I am not stupid.”
“I never—” He bit off the sentence and took a deep breath. Whatever he meant to say was lost as the transport settled in front of House Chan’s building. Ian’s mask of indifference slid back into place as if the past few minutes hadn’t happened.
Ian climbed out and checked the surroundings before offering me a hand. I took it and allowed him to help me out of the transport. House Chan owned Sector Four of the Khadela quarter and the towering metal-and-glass building in front of us was their headquarters.
When High House Khadela had fallen long ago, the lower houses had scrambled to claim a piece of the quarter for themselves, moving in from the outer sectors of the other quarters. Since then the real estate was in constant ownership flux. One could tell how well a lower house was doing by their address and the number of buildings they owned—House Chan was doing quite well.
Ian guided me past the guards posted at the door, all of whom were smart enough not to try to demand my invitation. The two-story lobby was dominated by an enormous crystal chandelier that stretched from ceiling to floor, more art than illumination.
The elevators to the upper floors were tucked off to the right, behind another set of burly guards. To the left, wide double doors were thrown open to the ballroom, allowing a glimpse of the glittering spectacle inside.
I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and pasted on my social smile. Showtime.
Without a word, Ian dropped back to hover behind my right shoulder. I swept into the room on a murmur of acknowledgment. As I made my way to the hosts, people cleared my path with a quick curtsy or bow. The boldest tried to catch my eye, but most moved aside with bowed heads. Women were swathed in a riot of colors while the men stood as solemn beacons in gray and black.
The hosts’ table was on a raised dais in the middle of the back wall. As I approached, Lord and Lady Chan rose, as did their daughter and her betrothed. The daughter swallowed nervously and slipped her hand into her betrothed’s. He gave her a gentle squeeze of reassurance, and she summoned a smile.
Perhaps my information was wrong after all.
I inclined my head to the table with a genuine smile. “Lord and Lady Chan, thank you for inviting me to celebrate your joyous day with you. Father sends his regards and best wishes for a happy union between Lady Elise and Mr. Ruth.”
“Lady von Hasenberg, we are honored by your attendance. Please, enjoy the dancing and refreshments,” Lord Chan said. He lifted his arm and the string quartet in the corner eased into sound. After a shallow bow to me, he guided his wife to the center of the room to begin the dance. Elise and Mr. Ruth, whose first name I couldn’t remember, followed as the guests of honor.
My official duties now over, I relaxed a fraction. The nap had helped and my head barely ached. With the number of signals flying through the room it wouldn’t stay that way for long, but for now I could enjoy myself.
I had not danced since Gregory’s death, but that did not stop the invitations. Occasionally I longed to join the whirling masses, but as I turned down a leering gentleman old enough to be my grandfather, I remembered why I’d made the decision. I’d declined five more gentlemen and one adventurous lady by the time I made it to the buffet.
“You don’t dance anymore?” Ian asked softly.
Only my training prevented me from startling at his voice, so close to my ear. “No,” I said.
I picked up a dainty china plate and selected a few hors d’oeuvres. Today I felt well enough to eat, but it wouldn’t do for the daughter of a High House to load up a plate, no
matter how ravenous she was. Plus, if I snacked all night, I always had something to do with my hands.
“Why not?” he asked.
“You should eat if you are hungry,” I said instead of answering. I snagged a glass of champagne from a passing server and expertly balanced both plate and glass as I nibbled. I put my back to a wall and observed the room. Ian stood next to me, eyes scanning the crowd.
“Tell me what you see,” I said on impulse. It was a game we’d played a lifetime ago when he was my personal guard.
I didn’t expect his eyes to flash to me. “You were worried that Lady Elise was being forced into the match,” he said.
I took a measured breath and masked my surprise. How did he know? More important, how much did he know?
“I haven’t figured out why you care,” he continued, “but I have a few guesses. You can rest easy, though. From what I’ve seen, the two are ridiculously in love.”
I glanced to where the two were dancing while smiling and laughing as if the rest of the room didn’t exist. “I drew the same conclusion,” I said. So why was a rumor of the opposite floating around? I’d have to dig into it.
“Why do you care?” Ian persisted. The man was like a dog with a bone. I’d have to give him something or he’d never drop it.
“Mother was concerned the House would be destabilized if the marriage was unhappy,” I lied smoothly. “She sent me to determine if her concern was warranted.”
Ian didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t push for more. Unfortunately, that probably meant he’d be doing digging of his own when he got back to his office. I didn’t need Ian Bishop sticking his nose into my business.
“What else do you see?” I asked.
“A lot of people who don’t value what they’ve been given.”
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