I stand up and stretch my arms. “Guess we better get going. I need to spend a lot of quality time getting ready for the party. Elle’s loaning me a dress and doing my makeup.”
“Good.” Lauralei exhales. “You’ll look presentable, then.”
Anger tightens up my spine. Those kinds of comments always get to me. It’s bad enough that I have no freedom and a fake boyfriend. But the constant sniping about my appearance pushes me over the edge. “I always look presentable.”
Lauralei narrows her tiny eyes. “I’ll be the judge of that. I still don’t understand why you won’t marry Philpot on Saturday. It would fulfill your life template.”
“Not happening, Lauralei. I’m trying to date him. That’s all. We’ll see how it goes. If I like him, then maybe I’ll marry him. But that’s someday far off in the future.”
Lauralei looks down her long nose at me. “As you say.” There’s a gleam in her tiny bird-like eyes that I don’t like at all. She’s up to something. That said, she’s given me that look for years. With only three days left before my birthday, I can’t start letting it get to me.
“And do you have your phone with you?” asks Mirabelle. Actually, it’s more like she clucks out the words from behind Lauralei.
“Always.” It feels good to lie to them. Not sure what that says about me as a person.
“We have to go,” says Elle brightly. “Lots of work to do.”
Elle marches me out the door and away from my aunties. The three fairies watch us leave in awed silence. If there’s any proof that Elle is part of the Magicorum, it’s how she can con anyone, anywhere, and at any time. She’s the best.
As we head out of the Denarii League, all my previous worries melt away. Midtown Manhattan is a bustle of movement as office workers stream out of their skyscrapers and trudge across the sidewalk. The scent of hotdogs and sausage wafts toward me from a nearby pushcart. Big white clouds roll overhead in a deep-blue sky. A sense of calm washes through my soul. What a great night this will be. I’ll get digital copies of some new papyri, which is always good reading. And after that, it’s only three days before my birthday and freedom.
I smile. After Saturday, I’m an adult. No more Philpot. No more aunties. And if I wanted to, I could even move in with Elle. She invites me often enough. I just haven’t wanted to jinx anything by making solid plans.
But who knows? With so many choices opening up, maybe I will find my happily ever after—and soon. At this moment, anything seems possible.
Chapter Three
Bryar Rose
I’m seventeen. By rights, I should be spending my weekends at parties playing Seven Minutes in Heaven in someone’s basement closet. I should not be wearing a black cocktail dress and standing in a Manhattan penthouse with a bunch of adults who talk about nothing but banking. It’s so boring I want to cry.
“And that’s why the markets became so volatile. Am I right?” That’s Philpot speaking. He’s handsome and chiseled, what with his dark eyes, pale skin, and wavy brown hair. Sometimes he reminds me more of a mannequin than a person. It gives me the creeps. “I said, right?” Philpot looks at me as if I haven’t been paying attention. Which I haven’t. So I smile instead.
For the last hour, I’ve stood around and tried to seem cordial to my fake boyfriend. Three more days. I promised my aunties I’d give it a try, but after Saturday? Once my curse is over, you are toast, Philpot. After my eighteenth birthday, this is over. And in the meantime, no touching.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asks.
“Absolutely, Philip.”
“It’s Philpot.”
“What?”
“My name. Philpot Herbert Utrecht the Third.”
“Right.” He’s lucky I didn’t call him by his unofficial name, Philpot the Turd. It’s not pretty, but neither is fake-dating someone.
Philpot sips his cocktail. “Honestly, Bryar Rose. You need to remember my name. Any girl would be thrilled to date the Philpot Herbert Utrecht the Third.”
Here he goes again. Philpot is forever finding ways to work his full name into conversations, including the bit about being the Third. Like inbreeding is a selling point for the upper crust of Manhattan society.
What am I saying? I’m part of that society, too. I live in a penthouse, drive an awesome car, and enjoy an unlimited shopping account. I just can’t go anywhere on my own without lying my ass off.
Come on, Saturday.
Philpot leans in. “Soon, you’ll agree to be my wife. I can’t wait for our wedding.”
Ugh. Philpot is laser-focused on marriage. For a guy his age, it’s weird. But then again, everything about Philpot is weird.
I take a half step backward. “Not happening. Look, I promised to give dating a try—emphasis on the word try—until Saturday.”
Philpot’s eyes take on an evil gleam, but the look is gone so quickly I’m not even sure it was there. I scan his features carefully, searching for any sign of dark intentions. Nope, nothing. I shake my head. How could I imagine Philpot is anything other than a money-grubbing loser?
“Let’s not argue.” Philpot lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Do you want a martini, babe?”
“I’m seventeen. You’re twenty-five. And don’t call me babe.”
“Hey, I’m cool.”
Ah, no. “I’ll have a Diet Coke.”
“You should learn more about wines and mixed drinks. Cocktail parties are a big part of my life.”
And there it is. The two words of his that I hate.
You should.
I’m about to tell him what he really should do when I spy the thing I’ve been waiting for all night—a clear shot to the back door. The staff have been barring access to the freight elevator, what with all their rolling around food on stainless steel carts. But now, the door is unblocked and unwatched.
My breath catches. This is my chance.
I’m now on the twenty-eighth floor. From here, I can take the freight elevator to the basement and use the connecting tunnel to reach the LeCharme Building. With all my IDs and access cards from Elle, I can then sneak into LeCharme, get pictures of the new papyri, and return before Philpot notices anything.
So I lie again. “You know what? I’d totally love a martini. What an awesome idea.” I’ll never drink a drop of it, though.
“Right.” Philpot purses his lips. This is clearly an attempt at a sexy face. Ugh.
“Just don’t rush. I have to hit the bathroom and freshen up.”
“You got it, babe.”
I let the second babe comment slide. As he heads off to the bar, Philpot spots one of his investing buddies. Perfect. They’ll blab for hours about how to make more money in the markets. Because, you know, they clearly don’t have enough already, for some reason.
After I slip out the back door, I take the freight elevator to the basement and use my key cards to get into the LeCharme Building. Once I’m inside the bottom level of LeCharme, I find the private elevator for the family floors. There’s an access keypad by the elevator doors. I quickly enter my special code. These digits are ones that I hacked myself. They shut down all security cameras in private areas for the next hour or so. Turns out, the LeCharme patriarch has a thing for the ladies. He created the code to sneak the ladies in whenever he likes. In my book, it’s poetic justice that Elle and I use it to rob him and make copies of his stuff. Dude should stop fooling around.
Soon, I’m riding the family elevator upward. It only takes you to the top levels, where the LeCharme family lives and works. Alec’s office is number 14B on the fortieth floor.
The elevator doors slide open with a mechanical hiss. I step out and make a quick scan of the hallways. The place looks mostly deserted. Only a few workaholics type away at their desktops. I saunter down the halls, and no one says a word. Fun fact: you can get away with a lot when you wear a little black dress with Louboutin heels.
In no time, I find a heavy mahogany door with gilded letters that read “Alec LeCharme,
Vice President.” What he actually does is a mystery. The kid’s my age, so I’m guessing he uses the office to buy papyri and goof off.
I pull out another handy ID card from my bag and swipe it through a nearby control panel. The door swings open with a soft click.
Here it is. Alec’s office.
Inside, the place looks like the showroom for a high-end corporate furniture catalog. It’s dark now, but when the lights are on, you can see tons of couches made from strips of leather on chrome frames. I’m not going to lie. Elle and I have jumped on them a few times. They have good spring action.
Alec’s desk sits against the far wall. Only one ceiling fixture is lit up, and it casts his desktop in a small pool of brightness. Other than that, the rest of the office sits in the dark, which is fine with me. No one needs to wonder why the lights are on in the VP’s office this late on a Wednesday night.
I get right to work. Alec always leaves his papyri shipments out in the open. I rush over to the desk, and sure enough, there they are: two small wooden crates, each one about the size of a shoebox. I dig into my purse and pull out the handy leather zippy-bag that contains my copying kit. It’s got all the basics, including a magnetic staple remover, camera, and X-Acto blade. In a matter of minutes, I open the crates, take digital pictures of the papyri, and close everything up again without leaving a sign.
Mighty slick, if I do say so myself.
I’m feeling really good about my badass-ness when it happens. The hair on my neck stands on end.
Someone’s here.
I slowly turn, and there stands Alec, the heir to LeCharme dynasty himself. He’s a handsome guy, in that clean-cut, laid-back, surfer-dude kind of way. He’s all tanned skin, blue eyes, and sun-lightened hair. Even though he’s wearing a black suit, Alec still rocks a young and casual vibe. I’ve spent enough time with Elle to know my best move is to play it cool.
I give him a little wave. “Hey.”
“Hello. I’m Alec.” And he smiles. There’s no calling the guards. No yelling his lungs out.
Interesting. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Either way, I should get out of here.
“I came here to take pictures of your papyri. I’ll just leave now.”
The smile disappears. “I was waiting for the jewel thief. Normally, she comes here with you.”
My spine straightens. He’s after Elle. Even worse, he knows who we are and what we’ve been up to. That leaves one option. Lie my ass off.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Alec holds his hands up, palms forward. “Your friend isn’t in any trouble. I’ve started running checks on the pieces she takes, and they’re all stolen jewels with a bounty on them. LeCharme would have returned them if the company were aware.”
If Alec knows this much, I figure there’s no point holding back. I set my fist on my hip. “Your parents totally knew.”
I heard all about this from Elle. When she started off, Elle tried to inform LeCharme of the thefts and split the reward. Alec’s parents wouldn’t hear of it.
“You’re right. My parents knew. But I didn’t.”
“And?”
“I’m ready to work with her.”
Sure, he is. “And why would you want to do that?”
“Every time she steals something, she leaves a little pile of cinders on my desk. The cleaning staff have been complaining.” He works that surfer-dude smile again. I’m not buying it.
I step toward the door. “This is me leaving.”
Alec moves to block my path. Another creepy sensation seeps up my scalp. Alec isn’t the only one here. Damn. One guy I can handle in a fight, especially if I can see him coming. But two people, and with one of them hidden? Not so easy.
I glare at Alec. “Back off. I said I was going.”
Alec rakes his hand through his sandy-blond hair. “How come you want to steal my papyri anyway?”
“I make digital photos of them. There’s a difference.”
“Why not ask my office for access?”
“I did. Many times.”
“Let me guess. Your requests got routed through my parents.”
“That they did.”
“Well, ask me this time. You’ll get a different answer.”
A growly voice sounds from the shadows, making me jump. “No one else should look at those papyri. They’re ours.”
The tone of voice sets off alarm bells through my brain. I scan the darkness, trying to see something, anything. I don’t get so much as an outline of this man.
“If we’re having a group discussion, why don’t you come out of the shadows?” I ask.
Alec hitches his hand into the right pocket of his black suit. It makes him look like he fell out of a menswear catalog. He eyes me carefully. “Oh, I like her. We should work with her directly.” The way he says the word “directly,” it’s like he knows everything that Elle and I have been up to.
The growly guy growls again. “No.”
That voice. It makes me a little crazy, I guess. I glare at the darkness. It’s really my only option at this point. “Quiet, you. I’m talking here.”
Alec chuckles. “Oh, we’re definitely working together.”
Part of me wants to run for the door. More of me is interested in getting access to papyri. I can’t help but ask the obvious question. “Working with you on what?”
“The papyri, of course. There’s a code in them. We’re trying to break it.”
“A code?” Whoa, I thought I noticed a strange pattern in those hieroglyphs. They all start off telling the history of magic and then go into a bunch of nonsense sentences. Could you rearrange those words and get a secret message? It’s possible. Suddenly, my burner phone starts ringing. Crap. It’s Elle, and Elle never calls unless there’s an emergency with my aunties. I raise my pointer finger. “One sec. I have to get this.”
“You’re taking a call?” asks Alec. “Right now?”
“You always this fast?” I say it with a smile and a wink, though. Another fun fact: you can get away with a lot of insults as long as you have the right delivery and outfit. After pulling out my burner, I take the call.
“Hey, Bry.” Elle’s voice sounds all crackly on the phone.
“Hey.”
“Your aunties are on hold right now. I told them you’re in the shower at my place. Normally, that would make them hang up, but they wanted to stay on the line until you got out. I said I’d take them off hold once you were done. You ready?”
“Sure. Patch them through.”
“You got it. Oh, how’s it going with the heist?”
“It’s going.”
“That good, eh?”
I look over to Alec, who’s grinning from ear to ear. Somehow, I have no doubt he realizes I’m talking to Elle. “I’ll explain later. Patch them through now, or they may actually be tempted to use magic.” That could get ugly.
“You got it.”
On the other end of the line, my aunties are all on speakerphone and chattering at once. I make out the words “episode” and “homework.” Alec is still smiling in my direction. Who cares if he looks all sneaky? As long as he doesn’t say a word, I can handle this.
“Look, aunties. There’s no need to freak out. I was just in the shower. I haven’t had an episode. Plus, my homework is done already, so drop it. Elle and I are late for the soiree.”
Next my aunties start going off on Miss Chang, one of my tutors. They’re all yammering at once again because apparently, Miss Chang trains one of their friends in jiu-jitsu. Now they’re all freaked that she’s teaching me street self-defense, too. Which she totally is. Not that they know that. I groan. This is just what I did not need. Their voices rise to ear-splitting levels.
“Guys…guys…GUYS!” Finally, they quiet down. “Miss Chang is not teaching me mixed martial arts. We’re working on table etiquette.”
“That’s a relief,” says Lauralei. “Where are you, anyway?”
“Right where I sa
id I’d be. Over at Elle’s, getting ready. We’re leaving for the party any second now.”
With that, Lauralei launches into a lecture on how irresponsible I am. For what, I don’t know, but it seems like she needs to hit this speech at least once a day. Listening to it always gets me worked up. Without realizing it, I pace the floor. Evidently, I get too close to Growly Guy because he lets out another unhappy rumble. I pause.
“What’s that noise?” asks Lauralei.
“Oh that? We’re watching Animal Planet.”
“It was terrifying.”
“I know. We’ll turn down the volume.” As long as I listen to them complain for a few minutes, they’ll leave me alone. And—happy me—those two minutes are now up. I can end the call with abandon, so that’s just what I do. “Love you all. Buh-bye.” After hitting the End Call button, I turn to face Alec. I still can’t see Growly Guy at all. “Sorry about that.”
Alec remains very amused. “Can’t they trace you?”
“Duh. This is a burner. My friend has the real phone.”
“Your friend named Elle.”
Okay, I shouldn’t have let that slip. Still, it’s not as if he wasn’t aware anyway. “Like you didn’t know.” I slip my hand into my purse and pull out my mace. “I’m going to leave now. This is the last time I’ll say it.”
“Please. I waited patiently while you rifled through my things. I didn’t even call security. The least you can do is answer a few questions before you mace my face off.” He stares pointedly at the bag. “I can see it in your hand, you know.”
Oh, that. “Fine. Ask your questions.”
“How old are you?”
“That’s rather personal. How old are you?”
“Eighteen. And you are?”
I shrug. “I’m eighteen.”
Alec doesn’t seem convinced. “You’re eighteen?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Right now?” That’s Growly Guy again.
Wolves and Roses Page 3