by Carven, Anna
Nothing could change the way she felt now.
Sienna had moved on, and he was one of the last people she wanted to see.
Next time—if there was a next time—she’d be a better judge of character.
So why had she felt a tug of attraction to an intense, powerful Kordolian, who could also be violent?
Gritting her teeth in irritation, she began to make her way to the front, but she was interrupted by Emmett, who suddenly emerged from the corridor that led to a small office and the laneway at the back, where there was a small vertical farm. He was still dressed in his workout clothes—a sleeveless grey Syntech tank top and loose shorts that revealed his toned physique. His dark brown hair was damp with sweat. Every morning before work, Emmett trained in the classic art of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu at a local gym.
He also looked rattled, and just like Cleo, Emmett Wolff, who could be sharp-tongued but also exceedingly kind and generous, rarely ever got rattled.
Sienna sighed. Why the fuck couldn’t her life just get back to normal, already? “What’s wrong, Emmett?”
He lifted the towel that was slung around his neck and wiped beads of sweat from his face. “I was just about to get in the shower when I heard a knock at the back door. Some weird guy is out there, asking for you.”
“Weird guy? What do you mean?”
Emmett frowned. “He looks like…” An exasperated puff escaped his lips. “A real life version of a potentially evil anime character. I don’t know how else to describe him.”
Cleo frowned. “What on Earth are you talking about, Em?”
Sienna shook her head. Typical Emmett. He was big and intimidating and loved to fight and do geeky things like play virtual reality games and watch anime series; even really old, obscure ones from hundreds of years ago.
Emmett shrugged. “The white-haired ones always turn out to be the most dangerous.”
“White-haired?” Sienna’s heart pummeled. “He’s not… silver?”
“Not a silver fox, no. You know the guy?” Emmett frowned. “Tall, cut, looks like he could whoop some ass if he wanted to. Messy hair, but immaculate vintage glasses…”
Glasses? The rest of the description fit, but that part didn’t sound like any Kordolian she knew, let alone the one that usually occupied her thoughts. “He isn’t an… alien?” She felt faintly stupid for asking.
Emmett laughed, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Nope. Not an alien. Not an inch of silver in sight, unfortunately. His skin is as humanly tan as ours.” He looked down at his arms. “A little more tan than mine is right now, though. Can’t wait till winter’s over.”
Sienna felt a strange mixture of disappointment and relief. So it isn’t one of them, then… or him.
So where was this so-called security Ikriss had been so adamant about?
“Emmett,” she sighed, “can you please do me a favor and tell this glasses guy that we aren’t hiring right now? I’d go and speak with him myself, but I’m a little busy right now.” Besides, we can’t afford to hire any new staff right now. “I’m going out front. I’ve got to deal with... Ugh!” Frazzled, she tore off her flat white chef’s hat and ran her hands over her face, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ears.
All she wanted to do was cook and run her business… and find some space to heal from all the horribleness.
All she wanted was normal.
Why did all these weirdos keep bothering her?
Sienna strode through the kitchen and into the front dining room, where she was greeted by golden lighting and cozy warmth from the geothermal pump. Polished round tables made from reclaimed oak were surrounded by authentic vintage rattan Parisian cafe chairs that she’d scored on a Network auction and refurbished herself with the help of an AI guide and Cleo and Eva—and more than a few bottles of red wine. The walls were decorated with pictures of her favorite places all around the world; places she’d visited just after she’d been fired from her sous chef job at the prestigious Aria.
Fired, for tipping off the boss’s wife that he’d been cheating on her. The worst thing about it all was that Michael fucking Bancroft, the famous, charismatic Network chef who’d taken her under his wing had never told her he was married in the first place.
He’d fucking lied to her.
Gods, she’d been so dumb and trusting.
With her reputation and career in tatters, she’d used her entire life savings to go traveling for a year. It was easy enough these days with the public skyflyers.
A year was long enough to make people forget all about her, and the places she’d visited had been pure escapism on Earth.
In this day and age, there were still places on Earth that felt like they were trapped in some beautiful past; where the pace of life was different, and where technology didn’t dominate every single damn waking hour of people’s lives.
She’d put pictures of those magical places up on the walls just to remind herself. She’d taken the photos herself, using a hyper-resolution three-sixty angle immersion camera.
An autumn sunset over vineyards in Italy.
Monsoon rains amongst the coconut trees in Goa.
A balmy evening in the ancient street markets of Marrakesh.
Hong Kong looking surreal and mysterious, shrouded in mist on a foggy morning.
That had been her year of freedom and inspiration.
And now she was starting to feel like she needed another one just like it.
Sienna stalked through the auto-doors at the front and found three cocky black-coat wearing gangsters sitting on the sidewalk under the black-and-white striped awning that shielded them from the gently falling snow. Between black-gloved fingers, they cradled delicate glass mugs that held caramel macchiatos with cream and syrup on top.
Gangsters and macchiatos. How ridiculous. But that was Connor’s favorite drink, and the boys would always have to have whatever the boss was having.
In the aerial street beyond, a flotilla of drones and flying passenger craft drifted past amidst the gently falling snow, the sound of hundreds of motors combining to produce a hum that reminded her of a swarm of bees.
The sun wasn’t up yet and it was freezing, but you would hardly know it, thanks to the ambient sidewalk heaters and light from the neon holo-signs.
“Connor,” she said flatly, meeting the grey eyes of a man she’d once found charming. “What are you doing here?”
Now, she felt nothing for him; not even a shred of warmth or fondness.
She was just annoyed.
Why can’t you all just leave me alone?
“Sienna.” Connor Ryan leaned back in his chair, regarding her with a cool gaze. “A little birdie told me you’d disappeared into thin air. I’m glad that’s not the case.”
“Are you really?”
“Believe it or not, I am.”
Sienna bristled. “Are you stalking me, Connor?”
“Just keeping an eye out for an old friend.” He smiled, his perfect white teeth gleaming against his neatly cropped tawny beard. “Don’t worry, Si. I’m not under any illusion that anything will ever be rekindled between us. You’re far too decisive for that, and we both moved on a long time ago. To be honest, I was just worried, so I thought I’d look out for an old acquaintance.” His expression turned serious. “There’s been some bad shit going on around this town.”
“Bad shit?” Sienna’s heart skipped a beat. Her irritation dissipated a fraction. Connor might be an arrogant, self-entitled asshole with a vicious temper and an empathy deficit, but he wasn’t evil. She’d seen evil, and he wasn’t it.
“Girls going missing without a trace. No bodies, no clues, no nothing. You heard about anything like that?”
“No,” she said slowly, carefully. “I haven’t.”
“So you’ve been on vacation this past week or something?”
“I didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on my whereabouts. Where I’ve been is none of your business. I’m here and I’m not going anywh
ere, so you can go get back to whatever it was you were doing now. Leave my shop, Connor.”
He furrowed his brow; handsome-but-repulsive, dangerous, infuriating. “I’m a paying customer. That kind of attitude isn’t very good for business, darling.”
How she hated it when he called her that. “Well, this is a private business, and I can choose to serve whoever I want. We’re doing just fine, thank you. Now leave, before I call Enforcement.”
“You should at least let me pay out that Syndicate debt of yours. Consider it a favor to an old friend.”
Connor’s big, burly sidekicks nodded sagely. Out of habit, one of them flexed his knuckles.
Seriously?
Sienna glared. Seriously, fuck these guys. “How did you know about that?”
“As I said, word gets around. Should’ve come to me first. I can’t go against the Syndicate, but I can pay out your debt at a fair interest rate. Our business is good in their books. They’ll honor any agreement from me.”
What, so you can own me? Like you thought you did last time? “No thanks.” She folded her arms and stubbornly stuck her chin out. “Go away. I’m waiting…”
“Suit yourself.” Connor unfolded his long, lanky body from the chair and stood, putting his empty coffee cup down on the table. The two goons on either side of him mimicked him, rising to their feet. “Maybe I’ll stop by in a few days time, see how you’re doing…”
“You won’t.”
He looked at her insolently. “You’ve got a good thing going here. I can see you’re hustling, but you’re too much of a nice girl to do what needs to be done. Everyone needs a Godfather in this town, Sienna.”
She shook her head. You have no idea where I’ve been; what I’ve seen. You don’t know what lurks out there in space. Your so-called Godfathers wouldn’t be able to do anything against them. “Fuck off.”
One of the sidekicks glowered. “She’s got some kind of mouth on her. You seriously gonna let her talk to you like that? After you went to all this trouble to check up on her?”
Slowly, menacingly, Connor walked toward her, his shiny leather shoes loud on the pavement. “As I said, I was just doing you a good thing. That fuckin’ attitude is going to be your undoing, woman.”
Ah, there you are. Well, that didn’t take long, did it?
The constant put-downs had been a feature of their short, toxic relationship. At first, she’d been the guilty one, always apologizing for some perceived slight or failing, when really, he just had these completely unrealistic expectations.
It had taken a while for the fog to clear, but once she’d seen the cold, hard truth, she would never mistake it for anything else ever again.
After Michael; after Connor, Sienna had sworn to herself that she was going off overbearing assholes for a while, no matter how charming or mysterious or spectacular they were.
But then those fucking aliens had appeared out of nowhere, stealing her away as easily as if they were catching fish for the market.
And then there were the Kordolians…
It was a small miracle that she was even functional right now. She should be a lot more traumatized, but weirdly, she felt stronger.
Strong enough to tell a Ryan boy to fuck off.
Compared to what she’d been through, there wasn’t much on Earth that could scare her now.
Sienna slipped her hand into the front pocket of her apron, where she found a small paring knife. Her fingers closed around the wooden handle. She knew she wouldn’t do anything stupid with it, but in some deep, dark, primal part of her brain, a small voice yearned for violence. She felt an increased need to defend herself and her people and her property, by whatever means necessary.
And she didn’t like that Connor Ryan had just shown up out of the blue; a phantom from her past appearing all of a sudden, after she hadn’t even so much as thought about him for years.
What the actual fuck?
Cleo appeared in the doorway, one finger on her Link, her face as serene and composed as ever, even though there was a hard glint in her dark eyes. “You want me to call the Enforcers now, Sienna?”
Sweet Cleo. Bless her.
Always backing her up.
Connor laughed. “Go ahead, darling. Call them if you want. We’re just leaving.” As he reached Sienna’s side, his scent washed over her—a mixture of old-fashioned cigar smoke and overpowering cologne. It made her slightly queasy. He leaned in. “Nice building you’ve got here,” he whispered. “I’ve had my eye on this block for a while now. Old brownstones like this are hard to come by.”
She tensed. Was that a threat? He wanted to buy out the entire complex?
So that’s why he’d paid her an unexpected visit.
She so didn’t need this shit right now.
Her fingers tightened around the knife. Just go away, Connor. Leave me alone.
Cleo moved in protectively.
Connor’s hired muscle followed suit, falling into step behind their boss.
“The negotiations are already in place. I’m buying this place, Sienna. You can either fall into line and work under my terms, or get the hell out.”
“No,” she blurted as the ground threatened to fall away from under her feet… again. “Why bother with all that shit, pretending to worry about me? Why not just get to the point?”
“Because, believe it or not, I do care about you, darling.”
Strangely, she knew he was speaking the truth, and she wanted no part of it.
And that’s when she felt it.
A faint ripple down the back of her neck. A tingle; a chill, like hundreds of ice-footed ants running over her scalp and down her back.
What’s this feeling?
A presence.
Was it really possible to feel a presence? This was the kind of shit you only read about in overly dramatic fiction novels.
But no, she could really feel it. It was like pressure, only cold; an aura that radiated outwards, demanding her absolute attention.
Something—no, someone—was behind her.
Suddenly, everything else—Connor beside her, the rush of cars and drones on the street, the garish neon lights, Cleo in the doorway—it all faded into the back of her awareness as she turned around.
The world changed gears, shifting into slow-motion…
And she locked eyes with the man who had frustrated and confused her in her dreams.
The alien.
Ikriss.
Only now, the eyes that stared back at her were green, not wolfish amber. And his face was human colored, even though his features were exactly the same; severe, angular, elegant.
Confusion scrambled her thoughts.
How is this possible? Was it elaborate make-up and artificial lenses? No; his skin and eyes were too realistic looking.
The effect was jarring. He looked almost human, and yet he so obviously wasn’t, but perhaps that was because she’d known him from before; she’d seen him in his element on that silent ship, in all his dark-and-powerful glory.
Only his hair remained the same color. It was still as pale as moonlight, and as messy as ever, carefully arranged over his pointed elven ears, because surely there was no way he could hide those.
“Sienna, what’s wrong?” Cleo turned and looked in the same direction. Her jaw dropped in surprise.
Emmett was standing at the back of the dining room, looking tense.
And to think she’d sent him out the back to tell the Shadow himself to go away.
Although Emmett was big and tough and could handle himself when things got physical—he’d ejected drunk and rowdy patrons from the restaurant on several occasions—he was no Kordolian.
And this was Ikriss.
With lupine grace, he slowly walked forward, past the tables and chairs and the quaint pot plants and the pictures hanging on the walls.
An alien.
It was so surreal. There was an alien in her domain, and he was dressed in perfectly fashionable Earth attire; a thin navy blue
sweater over tailored grey trousers. The clothes were well fitted and expensive looking, clinging perfectly to his lean, powerful frame.
Clearly, someone had advised him well.
Weird green eyes captured hers. For a split second—so quickly she almost missed it—his expression grew feverishly intense.
The air bristled with tension.
What the hell are you doing here, Ikriss?
What do you want?
Connor and his boys drew together, forming a small defensive unit, even though they were outnumbered.
Gloved hands slipped into slightly bulging pockets; perhaps finding weapons of some sort.
“Who the fuck is Professor white-hair over here?” Connor growled derisively.
Sienna opened her mouth, her mind swirling as she quickly tried to think of an explanation. “H-he’s my… apprentice,” she snapped. She made a point of glancing down at her Link Band. “Now will you please get out of here? It’s quarter past six, and we aren’t even open for another fifteen minutes. I don’t want you to scare the legitimate customers away. I won’t ask again, Connor. And I’m not interested in your offer.”
One of Ikriss’s eyebrows arched ever so slightly.
Apprentice? He seemed to be asking her a question. She wasn’t sure if she’d just insulted him or amused him.
The Kordolian locked eyes with Connor Ryan of the powerful Ryan clan, a family that owned vast swathes of real-estate in Manhattan and New Jersey.
A family that dealt in violence and illegal things she didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand.
The gulf in power between them was immense.
Connor had no idea.
No fucking idea.
“My boss wants you gone,” he said softly, in perfect English. English? How in the stars does he speak English now?
Sienna thought she sensed a trace of amusement in his voice, as if he were a predator toying with its prey. “Leave.”
My boss?
“Doesn’t look like any apprentice I’ve ever seen.” Connor’s expression hardened as he regarded Ikriss.
“He’s—” Sienna didn’t get a chance to finish, because Ikriss stepped into the gap between her and Connor and his men.