Nemo slumped in defeat. His people needed Donovan to be more than a myth. Instead, they had him.
“You look like you’ve got something weighing heavy on your mind.” Owen spoke from the doorway.
Nemo motioned for him to enter. The big man sauntered into the room, flopping down on the bed across from the desk. They remained silent, Nemo looking at his reflection in the widow and Owen studying the ceiling. Nemo stared at the scar jutting through his own eyebrow, the deep lines that extended from the corners of his eyes, and the dark circles beneath them. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his shaved head.
“I spoke with Archer,” Owen offered, breaking the silence.
Nemo turned to face Owen. “So you know what happened.”
“I know that Miss Grey avoided marriage to Novack today. I know that tonight she’s safe. And I know that our plan, though slowed for the moment, is still on the right track.”
Nemo nodded. He didn’t want to admit it, but Owen’s words made him feel better. “How is Archer?”
“He’s got a black eye and a few bruises, but he’ll be fine. I can’t say the same for the Councilman.” A grin split Owen’s face.
Nemo smiled at the idea of Grey covered in bruises. It was about time the man had a taste of his own medicine. “What happened when Councilman Grey came to?”
“Grey had gone by the time Archer returned to the office. From what he said, it’s only a matter of time before Grey comes looking for revenge.”
“Make sure we have people following Katy and Archer’s families. I don’t want him getting anywhere near them.”
“Already taken care of,” Owen assured him.
He turned back to the window. “I hope it will be enough.”
~
He could tell she was injured in the video. She didn’t stand as tall as usual, she swayed on her feet, and her voice shook when she spoke. Katy was right; the physical wounds weren’t the worst Miss Grey had suffered. Even in the grainy video, he could tell the fire in her eyes had been reduced to embers. He prayed they could find a way to rekindle that spirit. She would need every bit of it for what he planned.
The video played all morning on almost every television station, and it didn’t look like it was about to stop. He listened as newscasters and critics commented on the clip. Because Katy had shot the video from behind, skeptics claimed it had to be a fake. A few believers noted how Charlotte seemed to sway on her feet, indicating that she could have been high or drunk. These speculations were overwhelmed by conjectures concerning the suddenness of the nuptials. With representatives for the couple, Mason Novack, and Councilman Grey remaining closed lipped on the subject, the media was left to dig. So far their efforts turned up little, for which Nemo was grateful.
He turned off the screen and reached for his phone, typing a quick message.
-How are things this morning?
Archer had volunteered to take the first shift watching McLean’s apartment. Nemo trusted all his men and knew they would do everything they could to protect Charlotte, but he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that kept fighting its way to the surface. It was like he was missing a piece to the puzzle and until he found it, he couldn’t relax.
-Other than reporters, things seem to be normal.
Temporary relief filled him. But neither he nor his men could take the chance of getting comfortable.
-Keep your eye out for the Councilman and Novack.
-I’ll keep you posted.
Nemo couldn’t stand to sit by and worry any longer; he needed a distraction. The smell of warm bread and fresh coffee beckoned to him. He turned off his phone and left the office, following his nose down to the kitchen.
Like most of the rooms they utilized in the cathedral, the kitchen had been added on. When the cathedral became their headquarters in Kansas, he’d overseen the construction. The kitchen, which also acted as a dining room, was the first and the largest addition. Five long tables took up the center of the room. Surrounding the tables were a few stoves, ovens and countertops for cooking.
From the doorway, he watched the crowd of men and women milling around talking, laughing, and eating. A few noticed him, nodding in his direction when he entered. He nodded back but didn’t stop to make conversation. He’d spotted an empty chair at one of the tables and headed toward it.
Once seated, he grabbed a piece of warm bread from a platter in the center of the table, dropping it onto the plate in front of him. Someone slid a steaming mug of coffee across the table to him. He looked up and smiled at Viv. The person to his left passed a plate full of boiled eggs his way. Taking a few, Nemo passed the plate on and tucked in to the meal.
He listened to the conversations around him but didn’t bother to join in. Whenever he spoke, it seemed that everyone in the room fell silent to listen. Because of this, he often preferred to be the one listening rather than speaking. He enjoyed hearing the bits of normal, everyday conversation.
Across the room, two teenage girls sat with their heads close together. One shot a coy look at a boy sitting further down the table. When the teen noticed the girl’s stare, he winked. The two girls burst into a fit of giggles. Nemo chuckled. This was how the world was intended to work. No chips dictating your life. People needed to be free to make their own decisions even when those decisions led to failure and heartbreak.
Watching the rag-tag group surrounding him, he felt a sense of camaraderie. These people were his friends and his family. Together they’d made a life in the midst of adversity. He looked on them with pride. Rather than feeling exalted as their leader, these people made him feel as if he belonged.
“Did you hear me?” Viv tapped his arm.
“What?” Nemo pulled his attention back to his own table.
Viv shot him an amused look. “I asked where you need me today.”
“I thought you were working at the coffee shop?” He took a huge bite of bread, following it with a mouthful of coffee.
“It’s my day off.” She leaned forward on her elbows.
The skin around her eyes was sunken and bruised from lack of sleep. Her usually bright cheeks were pale. He shook his head. “You look exhausted. Do something for yourself.”
“Every other person here is just as tired as I am,” she countered, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
“Every other person may be tired, but you’re the only one who happens to be my daughter.” He gave her a serious look. “Take the day for yourself. You’ll do more good for us if you’re rested.”
She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms in a huff. Every time he looked at her, he saw her mother. Both had the same full, dark brown hair and honey eyes. Although she resembled her mother, Viv’s personality mimicked his own. They were both strong and stubborn. She wouldn’t agree to rest so easily.
“And what about you?”
“What about me?” He took another drink from his mug.
A teasing smile crossed her face. “You, our fearless leader, are no picture of health. The circles under your eyes are darker than anyone else’s. You’re not thirty anymore.” Her face sobered. “When are you going to take a day to rest?”
Viv was right. Thirty was over fifteen years behind him and his body felt older every day. “It’s a hazard of being in a position of power. I don’t have the luxury of rest.”
“I’ll rest when you do.” She didn’t give him a chance to argue before she disappeared.
Shaking his head, he stood up from the table and trudged back to the office with a fresh mug of coffee in hand.
“Nemo.” A voice stopped him as he left the kitchen.
“Slater.” Nemo nodded to the short man. “I thought you would have returned home by now.”
“I’m sure you know, I was called on last night to perform a marriage.” He pushed his glasses higher on his nose.
“I did hear something to that effect.”
“I delayed my journey until I could see you.” Slater crossed his arms, glaring. “That marriage wa
s never part of the plan you submitted to the Leaders. And what happened to Miss Grey?”
Guilt griped his stomach. “Extenuating circumstances. Unfortunately there were many variables that I couldn’t and still can’t account for. The marriage became essential.”
Slater accepted the answer reluctantly. “How did she get paired with McLean of all people?”
“You think it’s a poor match?”
“No, rather convenient for us.”
Nemo nodded. “I ensured it. We needed her paired with someone we could trust to keep her safe. He was the best option.”
“I don’t know how he can protect her. If Grey wants her, he’ll get her back.”
“Thayer’s name should give her some protection. She’s not just Grey’s daughter now; she’s also the daughter-in-law of another Councilman. That will afford her a measure of protection. As long as she and McLean remain in the spotlight, there won’t be many opportunities for Grey to make a move.”
“I hope you’re right, for her sake and for ours.” Slater extended his hand. “I’ll back you when you address the Leaders about this matter. Make it soon. They’ll be in an uproar until you do.”
Nemo nodded. “Safe journey home.”
“I’ll be in touch soon.” Slater looked him straight in the eye. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.” He watched Slater’s retreating back. “I’m going to need it.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Less than two weeks since the hostage situation at her coming-out party, Charlotte Grey has, once again, found herself in the limelight. Late last night, an anonymous source sent us this video. Yes, you’re seeing that correctly. Charlotte Grey has tied the knot. But even more shocking than the secret elopement, is the groom.
“In the weeks leading up to her coming-out, Miss Grey was rumored to be engaged to longtime boyfriend, Drew Campbell. After her coming-out, rumors flew that the couple had split. Sources claimed that she and Mason Novack, heir to Novack Enterprises, were planning their nuptials. But Miss Grey has surprised us all by marrying neither of her rumored amours.
“Although coverage of her coming-out was dominated by the hostage situation, some may remember that Miss Grey’s first dance was auctioned off for a record one million credits. Who was the lucky man? None other than her new husband, Thayer McLean. Seems he made quite a first impression.
“Representatives for the couple have refused to comment.”
A grainy shot of Charlie and Thayer filled the screen. It worked. Not only had almost every channel played the video of her wedding, almost every news website she checked that morning featured the story on the home page. For the first time in her life, she’d made her own choice, and the whole Confederacy knew it. The oppressive cloud hanging over her had dissipated and she could breathe again.
“It’s a good thing your back was turned in the video.” Thayer’s voice startled her. “Imagine what they’d be saying if they’d seen what happened to your face.”
She watched him saunter into the living room. He wore a white t-shirt and expensive designer jeans that hung low on his hips. He hadn’t shaved, leaving a shadow that accentuated his jawline.
He settled on the opposite end of the black leather couch. Since coming back to his apartment the night before, he’d been careful to give her a wide berth. After showing her to the guestroom and making sure she had everything she need, he disappeared into his own room. She appreciated the space, but couldn’t deny the fact that, at some point, they needed to get to know one another.
“Yeah. I don’t think I would be able to handle questions about this mess.” She gestured to her face.
Thayer leaned forward, examining her with his piercing eyes. “It looks a lot better today. The swelling has gone down and the bruises faded a little.”
She squirmed under his scrutiny. Looking away, she focused her gaze on the TV playing in the background. “You’re lying, but thank you for saying it anyway.”
He continued to stare. She wanted to know what ran through his head as he watched her so intently. Finally, he broke the silence. “I think it would be best to stay out of the public eye for a while.
She frowned. “With the marriage public, I should be safe.”
Thayer shrugged. “It’s your decision, but I think it would be better to be cautious. At least until you’ve recovered enough that you can hide the damage.” He lifted a hand like he wanted to touch her but stopped himself. “No reason to infuriate your father any further.”
A sigh whooshed past her lips. He was right. A thought struck her. “Are you going to stay here until then?” Anxiety stirred in her stomach, making it turn and clench.
He leaned back, placing his hands behind his head, kicking his feet up on the glass coffee table. “I have business in the city until the end of the week. Most of it I can conduct from the apartment, though I do have a few meetings I can’t miss.” He glanced at her. “I know this is a strange situation, but you don’t need to worry. Like I said yesterday, I’m not planning on taking advantage of you.”
His words did little to comfort her.
After a minute of awkward silence, he spoke again. “Did you eat anything yet?”
Her stomach gave a loud, embarrassing grumble, answering his question. Heat rushed up her neck and warmed her cheeks.
“If you were hungry, you could have made yourself something,” Thayer scolded lightly.
“I didn’t want to go through your kitchen. It seemed rude.”
“Charlotte, look at me.” Reluctantly, she let her eyes rest on him. The morning light played across his face, accentuating his angular features. “I want you to be comfortable here. If you want to go through the kitchen, then do it. Redecorate the whole damn apartment for all I care. We may not have the most conventional relationship, but for better or worse, we’re in this together.”
The kind gesture and intensity in his eyes had her at a loss for words. All she could was nod. She knew he was right, but it would take time for her to feel comfortable in his home, sharing a life with him.
He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I need coffee. Would you like some?”
A genuine smile pulled at her mouth. “I don’t know how I’ve functioned this far without it.” She stood, sucking in a sharp breath when her ribs throbbed in protest.
He frowned. “Didn’t the doctor give you anything for the pain?”
“Yes, but the bottle says to take it with food.” She gave him a sheepish look.
“Then we better get you something to eat. Come on.” He led the way, staying close by her side.
Unlike Margaret’s white kitchen at home, all cold and untouched, Thayer’s kitchen felt warm and lived in. Dirty dishes filled the stainless steel sink, hot coffee steamed in a pot, and an actual newspaper sat neatly folded on the counter. An island with four tall stools lined up along one side dominated the center of the room.
Thayer helped her to one of the stools before pulling mugs from a nearby cabinet.
“Cream and sugar?” he asked.
“Please.”
She watched him confidently maneuver around the room. He poured coffee into both mugs before grabbing the cream and sugar. He placed a mug in front of her and took long drink from his own.
When he caught her staring at him over the rim of her mug, he raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“I’m surprised you know your way around a kitchen. I assumed you would have a housekeeper to take care of the cooking. Most people do. Especially people like us.”
“Ms. Barton is at home in Texas. When I stay in the apartment, I have to fend for myself. It’s rough, but I manage,” he joked, setting the mug down. “I thought I’d make some eggs.”
“Sounds great.” Charlie poured a little cream into her coffee and stirred in a spoonful of sugar.
“I hope you like your eggs scrambled, because I can’t make them any other way,” he said, retrieving the egg carton from the fridge.
Her eyes followed him as h
e prepared the eggs before pouring them in a pan coated with melted butter. While they cooked, he found some bread, which he deposited into a toaster. The scent of warm bread drifting across the kitchen made her stomach grumble again. If Thayer noticed the sound, he didn’t comment as he found two forks and plates.
When he placed a full plate in front of her, she had to check herself to keep from shoveling the food into her mouth. Instead, she took small, careful bites.
“Don’t forget your medicine,” Thayer reminded her, taking a huge bite of eggs.
Charlie nodded, feeling like a child. She pulled the white pill from her pocket and swallowed it quickly, returning to her breakfast. The food hitting her empty stomach felt heavenly.
“Why do you have a real newspaper?” She spoke before taking her last bite.
“I guess it's one of my eccentricities,” he explained, his mouth full of toast. “I can afford the cost of real paper, so, why not?”
“I didn’t even know they printed them anymore.” She eyed the newspaper with curiosity. “I thought everything was electronic.”
“You don’t see too many of these in Portestas or the northern states, but back in Texas all the wealthy families have a printed paper delivered daily. I guess we hold to the Old World traditions more tightly than the other states. It’s become a habit for me to have one, even here in the city.” His mouth quirked up into a smile but his eyes hardened.
Feeling confused and uncomfortable at the edge in his expression, Charlie changed the subject. “You don’t have a southern accent.”
“My father doesn’t think the accent sounds professional so he insisted my brother and I learn to speak without it.”
“Do you ever slip up?” Charlie leaned forward, straining to hear any trace of a twang in his reply.
“Only when I return home.” He smirked at her listening to him so intently.
The Determining Page 15