When the lights of the house come into view, I’m almost disappointed. From what I can see, it looks like a smallish, single-story house. Not at all what I imagined him living in. Which is a silly thought because I really don’t care what his house looks like.
I’m just about to compliment him on how nice his house is when there’s a blaze of light. Someone’s flicked on all the switches inside the house, lighting up each and every window. I can suddenly see the place for what it really is—massive and luxurious. There are three stories, at least two wings and multiple balconies.
I’m trying not to stare, but it’s hard. Paul drives us around the back, pulling into an immaculate garage with a parquet floor. There’s a Rolls-Royce and an antique Jaguar already sitting in the garage.
He helps me out and leads me through a door. I have to gasp when I see what’s on the other side. “Do you really have two pools?”
Paul grimaces. “The previous owner did it. I guess his wife liked to swim in water that was cooler and he liked it warmer. So two pools. The cold one makes for a nice plunge after the sauna, you know.”
I nod like I do, even though having my own private cold-water bath for after my own private sauna session is something I’ve never, ever imagined. I mean, I’ve certainly gone to the common baths and even the hot springs in Longxi, which are supposed to be therapeutic, but it was always a communal experience. Communal isn’t bad, but private sounds much better.
“How nice,” I say. “That is convenient.”
I’m not trying to be snarky, not really, but Paul makes a wry gesture with his hand. “Sorry, I know it’s ridiculous, but I guess I’ve kind of gotten used to it. Even I think two pools is too much, but I didn’t see the sense in tearing one out.”
“But what if you need another tennis court?”
“Well—” He blinks at me. His refined confusion is adorable. “You’re making a joke.”
“No, I’m serious. What if you like to play tennis on a hard court and your wife wants to play on clay? It’s a dilemma for the ages.”
“I do have a tennis court, but just the one. You know, like a peasant.”
I have to laugh at that because in no way is Paul a peasant. I don’t think he’s ever even met a peasant, except for me. “What about stables? Do you have two stables?”
His expression turns sheepish. “There are two barns, yes. My sister keeps her horses here too. So we needed the space.”
I stop before the door he’s holding open for me. “Her horses too? There are his and hers horses here?”
He gestures me forward, the sweep of his hand curt. “Yes. I’ve always enjoyed riding, so I made sure the house had stables.”
One set of stables is an extravagance, but two? There weren’t many horses where I grew up, and I’ve always been a bit afraid of them. So big, with so many teeth. And their feet perfect for crushing toes with.
He’s leading us through the back way. I’m not sure if this is a compliment or an insult. I’m not grand enough to enter through the front door, but maybe it’s because I’m trusted enough to go through the back. I get the impression that this is Paul’s usual route into the house.
But even for the back way it’s very impressive. We pass a kitchen that could serve an army, a home theater with rows of plush velvet seats, and a room that’s just filled with flower arrangements. Some chairs and tables, yes, but mostly flower arrangements.
I have never before heard of a house with a flower arrangement appreciation room. I didn’t even think such a thing could exist.
We emerge into the front hallway. No, the entrance hallway. No…
My brow furrows as I try to put a name on what this is. It takes up all three stories, ending in a rotunda that’s painted with a sunset sky, pinks and golds and deep blue, with clouds streaking through it. This is… beyond impressive. I know my mouth is hanging open, but I can’t help it. It’s… palatial.
“That came with the house too,” Paul says as an aside.
Several uniformed maids come scurrying to meet us, mild panic in their eyes.
“What the hell is going on?” Paul asks. “Why are you wearing your uniforms?”
One of the maids comes forward. “Your mother called to say she’ll be arriving in an hour and to prepare her usual room. We thought it best…”
Paul rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. “Son of a bitch. No, you were right to put them on.” He turns to me. “We’ll have to hide you.”
Hide me? From what? “I don’t understand…”
“My mother’s decided to stay here instead of at the hotel. Which means the maids have to be in their proper uniform and you have to be nowhere to be found. She won’t like us living together before we’re married.”
This is so surreal it’s head-spinning. We’re lying to his mother about all this, and now we have to lie about my staying here? “I guess I’m going to the pool house then.”
This place probably has two pool houses. I’ll have my choice of them.
Paul shakes his head. “She’ll notice if someone’s living in the pool house. But there’s…” His gaze runs over me, and suddenly my skin feels too tight for my body. When his eyes meet mine again, there’s a strange, savage spark, like his skin also feels too tight.
I swallow hard and try to think of cold, hard objects, like stones or glass or similarly unfeeling things.
“You’re not going to like this,” he says. “You’re really not going to like this.”
“Is it the servants’ quarters?” They’re probably nicer than my own apartment.
A smile dances at the edge of Paul’s mouth, which he ruthlessly tries to suppress. “No, you’re not sleeping in the attic. But there are some guest quarters in my wing of the house. My mother would have to go through my rooms to access it, and even as nosy as she is, I can’t imagine her invading my space.”
Okay, now my skin is really too tight. “I’m going to be… I’m going to stay in your rooms? Like, rooms plural?” I asked hopefully.
We’re not staying in the same bed. We’re not staying in the same room. I keep chanting that in my head to calm myself.
“There are multiple beds, don’t worry. But it will be tight quarters.” His expression is quite serious.
I imagine my definition of tight quarters is very different from his. There’s probably a whole suite of rooms back there, attached to his even bigger suite of rooms. Entire villages could probably live in what he calls tight quarters.
“Okay,” I said quickly. “It’s fine, really.”
“Should I take your bags?” a maid asks me. I’ve almost forgotten they were there, they were so quiet.
“She doesn’t have any bags,” Paul says. “Could you show her upstairs?”
He leaves before the maid can respond, already expecting her to say yes.
When we arrive, I see that I was right—tight quarters means something very different to Paul. There’s a sitting room, a bedroom, a walk-in closet, and a bathroom that’s covered in marble.
I flop down on the bed, letting my purse fall to the floor. I’m exhausted, but my brain is going too fast to allow me to sleep. And I’ve got nothing else to do but to wait for Paul to come back. I can’t go exploring, and TV doesn’t appeal.
But I can call January and tell her everything. I pull out my phone, automatically checking my email before I do anything else. Without a job, there’s really no point—no one’s trying to contact me after hours for anything important—but the habit is too hard to break.
When I see the email waiting for me, my skin goes as cold as if I’ve jumped into one of Paul’s pools.
From: Arne Fuchs
Subject: Immigration Issues
Tell me who the leak is at Corvus and I’ll make all your visa problems go away.
Chapter Nine
I should have known Mother would be too classy to go looking under the bed for Grace.
She arrived, looking tired, just after I sent Grace upstairs. It made me frown beca
use she used to handle jet leg as if it didn’t exist. My mother never slows down for anything, not even time zone changes.
After wishing me a good night, she immediately went to bed. No interrogating me about Grace, badgering me about taking over the company, or asking what Archie was up to at dinner, which was what I’d braced myself for.
Nope, she just took off, and I weirdly feel guilty. Like she’s tired, worn out, and here I am lying to her.
I manage to get over it though as I go upstairs to find Grace. The servants know better than to say anything, so our secret is safe for now. Just another few weeks to get through, then Grace will be home and so will I.
My foot falters on the step. Thinking of Taipei as home is… not wrong, but this place is home too. I’m going to miss the Bay Area and especially the Bastards. And the man I could be with them—a little freer, looser, happier.
Of course I’m happy to return home and do my duty. I shake my head. I can’t go down this path. My life was decided the second I was born. This was only an interlude, and I’ve always known that. An interlude that’s left its mark on me but has to end.
I find Grace in her room, looking out at the pool. The colder one.
The light from the water ripples over her features, highlighting her eyes, then her cheeks, then the lush curves of her mouth. Something about her stillness makes me slow, then stop, the better to appreciate the sight. Gorgeous is too weak a word for her.
I’ve noticed how beautiful she was before, but I wouldn’t let myself admit it. But now, watching her like this, I can’t do anything but notice.
She catches me watching and the moment dissolves. Her smile is apologetic, like I’ve caught her doing something she shouldn’t.
“Which pool is that?” she asks.
“The cold one. You’ll want to swim in the other pool.”
“I don’t have a suit.”
“Lucy already called Saks and asked for some clothes to be sent over. They should arrive first thing tomorrow morning.”
“That was really nice of her.” She twists her hands together, like she’s trying to rub away a stain.
“Is everything okay?” I come to her side, stopping myself before I put a hand on her shoulder. She might be upset because of me, actually. That dinner wasn’t exactly relaxing, and now she’s hiding out from my mother.
“Um.” Her mouth twists like she’s struggling with what to say.
Great. My family ruined her evening, but she’s afraid to tell me that. “You don’t have to say anything,” I say. “I can just go.”
“No.” She takes my forearm to stop me. I can’t help but stare at her hand, pale against the pearl gray of my shirt. “It’s something else. Fuchs emailed me.”
That asshole. The tension builds in my head as my blood pressure spikes. “What did he say? If he threatened you, we’re going straight to the police. I don’t care if he’s bought them too. And we’ll get you a security detail, twenty-four seven. I should have already thought of that.”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “That’s very… thorough of you, but he wants to make a deal. I expose his leak and he fixes my visa issues.”
I blink at her for a long moment, processing that. We discovered the mole within Corvus about two weeks ago, when they sent some explosive information to Finn and Doc. Grace then helped the two of them plant a virus in Corvus’s servers that killed a police surveillance program, one that was being used to lock up innocent people.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter. “I told Finn to keep you out of it, and now Fuchs is coming after you. Again.”
Although, since he’s done his best to get her deported, there’s not much else Fuchs can do to her. The strange thing is, once she’s out of the country, she’ll probably be pretty safe from him. I mean, China has its own intense, invasive surveillance programs, but they’re not run by Corvus.
Fuchs can still use her though, which is what he’s trying to do.
She shrugs. “I don’t know if he suspects I helped with the virus. I think if he did, he wouldn’t have made the offer. He’s not the forgiving type.”
“No, I didn’t get that impression. So, do you even know who the leak is? And how would he know to contact you about it?”
Maybe Fuchs is just fishing, seeing if Grace knows anything. He must suspect how desperate she is at this point to stop her deportation.
“You guys are helping me, January rescued me, and she’s already trying to shut down his spyware program.” She raises her eyebrow. “If there is a leak in the company, you guys are in the best position to use that info to hurt him.”
“If? We know for certain there is one.”
She nods. “And he must too. So he figures I’ll weasel the identity of the mole out of you guys. Or just give it up if I already know it.” She takes a deep breath. “He’s put me in this awful position, and now he’s using it for leverage.”
I take her hand, squeeze hard. “If you can figure out who it is, just give it to him. You don’t owe that person anything.” My heart is beating hard, harder than it should be.
Because I’m too invested in this? In keeping her here?
I drop her hand. It doesn’t matter because I’m leaving myself. Grace’s future and mine are not intertwined.
“Denounce them?” She looks like I just asked her to execute them publicly.
“When did I say denounce?” Jesus, that wasn’t what I meant at all. “You give Fuchs the name and all your problems are gone.”
“And the leaker’s problems?” She’s working herself up, which I can’t understand. “What happens to them?”
“They’re probably a citizen and they’ll be fine.”
“Would you hire them?”
I hesitate for a moment, because of course I wouldn’t. Yes, they might have made it possible for us to screw Fuchs, but they’re still disloyal. I’m not Fuchs—for one thing, I have a soul—but I wouldn’t knowingly hire a leaker even if they’d helped me before.
Grace pounces on my hesitation. “See? They’d be fired, disgraced, and even you wouldn’t help them.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You’re about to be deported. And you’re throwing away the best chance you have to stop this?”
She purses her lips, pain bracketing her mouth. She sits heavily in a chair, like she can’t stand a moment longer. “I… I just don’t know if I can betray someone like that.” Tears shine in her eyes. “I probably should have told you before, but my great-uncle was a dissident.”
I close my eyes. Shit. I should have guessed at something like that. Of course she would hate surveillance, would be horrified at being involved in it, would fight to stay here. “What happened?”
“Nothing that dramatic. He was a poet. He wrote about…” Her mouth twists wryly. “About everything he saw. But some things weren’t supposed to be mentioned, although he did anyway. He was warned, he kept writing his poetry, and he was arrested and sentenced. He died in prison.”
I take a knee next to her, wrapping my hands around hers. They’re small and cold, and I try to rub some warmth, some comfort into them. “You didn’t have to tell me. But I understand now.”
“That’s not all. My father… he loved his uncle very much. And when he had to denounce this man he respected and honored so deeply—something broke in my father, I think. From then on, he urged me to leave.” She sniffles, a small, slight sound that still tears at my heart. “So I tried my hardest to come here.”
Christ, this is one tangled situation. Of course she can’t let her parents down—or herself—by blowing this opportunity to remain… but she can’t betray them either by exposing someone else.
“We’ll… we’ll tell Fuchs you have no idea who the leak is.” It’s a weak response, but I can’t come up with anything better. “And maybe he’ll be inclined to drop it.”
She smiles like she doesn’t believe me, but my effort touched her anyway. “He won’t. And I could look through what the leaker sent to Finn and
Doc. I might be able to figure out who it is.”
I hold my breath because I can’t quite believe it. “You’re going to give him the name?”
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t know. But at least I can go through the files, see what’s there. I can meet with him, see what he’s willing to offer.”
It’s all very logical and exactly what she ought to do, but the thought of her dealing with Fuchs is making my blood burn. But hell, she doesn’t have a choice anymore. I and all my fancy lawyers have failed her. Fuchs is the only chance she has left.
I swallow. “I’ll arrange a meeting with Finn and Doc tomorrow morning. From there, we’ll go see Fuchs. Together.”
“Right.” She nods like she’s trying to convince herself. “It’s silly to think this is anything like what happened to my great-uncle. I need to just deal with it. I will just deal with it.”
Her bravery… I can’t quite describe what it does to me since I’ve never experienced a sensation like this before. Life keeps throwing shit at her—clods of it—and she keeps dodging it with a grace I’ve never imagined.
“What’s your name?” I ask. “Your real name.”
I don’t mean Grace, the name she probably picked in some English class. I mean the one her parents gave her.
She looks confused at the change of subject but answers anyway. “Zhenzhen.”
Precious. It suits her. Grace suits her too.
“You don’t have to deal with it alone.” I suddenly realize I’m still holding her hands.
“I know.” Her eyes are like the clearest pools, and I want to drown in them. “You’ve been so kind—”
I don’t want to hear that shit. I haven’t been kind at all, or noble, or any of the other things I was raised to be. So I kiss her.
She makes a noise, more like a breath, a sigh against my mouth. Something in my midsection unknots at the touch of her lips to mine. A little piece of resistance I didn’t even know was there.
Her mouth moves, a gesture of discovery and encouragement. Lust surges through me, and I deepen the kiss, taste her fully. She tastes of spices and wine and a hint of sweetness. Better, lusher than I could have ever dreamed. And oh, have I dreamed about her.
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