by Juniper Hart
“I… I’m looking for the law offices of Brandis, Carter and Ross.”
“You’re in them. What department?”
Lane’s eyes were huge. “This whole building belongs to the law firm?”
“Yep. Are you looking for someone? I can look them up on the directory.”
“I… Sylvie Pendle?”
The guard frowned and bowed his head toward the computer. “Ah, forty-sixth floor. She’s a paralegal.”
“Thank you,” Lane breathed, her head swimming at the idea of riding up forty-six floors.
“There’s a receptionist on the floor when you get off the elevators,” the guard volunteered when he caught Lane’s dazed look. “Just ask when you get up there.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Lane looked around for something that resembled an elevator, and again, the watchman pointed her in the right direction.
“To the right, ma’am. Do you want me to call her down to meet you?”
“No,” Lane answered. That was the last thing she wanted. She cleared her throat. “No, thanks. I’m just a little disoriented. I need to find my way around, anyway.” She flashed him a quick smile and ducked away before she could humiliate herself further.
Lane didn’t exhale until she was on the lift and riding up to the impossibly high floor.
You’ve got this. She got off on the proper floor, slightly amazed that the elevator had not stopped to pick up anyone else along the way. How many people work in this building?
More than Lane had ever seen in her life, for certain.
There was no one at the reception desk. Of course there wasn’t. That was her job, wasn’t it?
Lane stood awkwardly, hoping that someone would notice her. To her great relief, a blonde woman floated toward her, her full breasts almost falling from the vee cut of her clinging red dress.
Oh, no. I’m dressed like a nun.
Lane wasn’t sure she owned anything resembling what the voluptuous woman before her was wearing. And if she did, she would never get away with wearing it.
“You must be Lane,” the blonde purred. “I’m Sylvie.” She extended a hand decorated with long, fake nails, and Lane took it. “You’re early. That’s good. The bosses pride on good work ethic here—especially Henry Brandis.” She winked alluringly at Lane. “The other partners pride on other aspects of their employees more.”
Lane wasn’t sure what that meant, but she was sure she didn’t like the tone Sylvie was using.
“Come with me. This will be your desk, but there’s some paper work to fill out.”
“Is Mr. Brandis here?”
Sylvie glanced over shoulder, not slowing her gait, and shook her head. “No. He’s in court. The Winters trial. I’m sure you’ve heard about it. Everyone’s heard about it.”
Lane nodded lightly. She didn’t want to confess that she knew nothing about the Winters’ trial.
Sylvie continued through the floor, nodding at people as they passed. “I’ll introduce you to everyone you need to know later. There’s too much staff here to keep all the names straight.”
“I appreciate it,” Lane said.
“It’s a simple job,” Sylvie went on, leading the way inside a small office she apparently shared with three others, none who bothered to look up when they arrived. “Everyone, this is Lane Aldwin. She’s going to be the new receptionist.”
There were a series of grunting greetings, but no one moved their eyes from the screens.
“Don’t mind them,” Sylvie told Lane. “They’re too self-absorbed to notice a hot chick in the room.” Her words had no effect on her co-workers, and she gestured toward a file folder on her desk. “There are some papers for you to sign,” she said. “No rush. Just have them back to me by the end of the day.”
“If you can’t find her here, you’ll find her in Michael Carter’s office,” a chubby brunette chimed from her spot.
Sylvie’s face puckered into a scowl. “Shut up, Bess.”
The other office workers snickered, and Lane watched as Sylvie’s face turned crimson.
“Come on,” Sylvie said grimly, spinning away. Lane grabbed the folder off the desk and smiled meekly at the others.
“Nice to meet you.”
Another round of groans met her words, and she hurried after Sylvie.
“Tough room,” Lane joked when she caught up to Sylvie.
“They’re a bunch of judgemental asses,” Sylvie replied shortly. She paused and looked at Lane. “Don’t get involved in office politics, Lane, and you’ll do fine. It doesn’t matter what you do as long as you’re happy. Remember that.”
The words had a profound effect on Lane, and she studied the blonde with renewed respect.
“Thanks for saying that,” she said, but she wondered if she really knew what it would take to make her happy. It seems like no matter what I do, I’ll disappoint someone.
“Are you okay?”
Lane nodded quickly. “Just eager to get started.”
Sylvie tittered. “You say that now. I’ll give you one week before you want to run screaming from this place.”
“Is it that bad?”
“I’m just kidding,” Sylvie said quickly. “Most of them are fine. There are a few whose way you should steer clear of, but this is a big firm. Keep your head down, and you’ll have no problem.”
“Am I one of those people, Sylvie?” a snide voice asked.
“Shit,” Sylvie muttered loud enough for the woman to hear. Both Lane and Sylvie looked at the commenter. Instantly, Lane was tense, although she couldn’t say why. Maybe it was the way the unnamed woman stared at her with a naked animus.
“Lane Aldwin,” she said, and Lane’s apprehension spiked higher.
She knows my name. How?
“Yes,” Lane replied. “Do I know you?”
“I’ve got work to do,” Sylvie interjected. “And I need to show Lane around, Marjorie.”
“You don’t know me yet, but you will,” the woman spat back, ignoring the paralegal.
“Marjorie, do you get off intimidating the newcomers?”
“I know who gets you off, Sylvie,” Marjorie retorted. “Mind your own business. I can show Lane what her job is here.”
Lane looked desperately at the paralegal. To her horror, Sylvie looked away.
“All right,” Sylvie agreed and turned to hurry away.
“You’re not what I expected,” Marjorie purred, leaning her face in to look at Lane with glittering eyes. “Not impressive at all.”
“I didn’t realize that being impressive was a prerequisite for the job,” Lane replied slowly, unsure of what to make of Marjorie’s unwarranted disdain.
“Really?” Marjorie drawled. “You didn’t realize you’d have to be formidable to be on the Seven?”
Lane’s spine felt ready to snap. “You shouldn’t be talking about stuff like that in public,” she choked, looking around desperately. “It’s against the rules.”
“Rules are meant to be adjusted every thousand years or so,” Marjorie snapped back. “And it’s high time someone stepped up and said something. The Aldwins aren’t worthy of Council seats anymore.”
She whipped herself around and stalked away from Lane, leaving her to gape after her in shock.
Lane had no idea what Enchanted being Marjorie might be. She had no sense whether she was a witch or a Lycan. To Lane, she looked no different than any of the others who milled about, and that filled her with a renewed terror.
I have no idea who is Enchanted, she thought, and yet they know who I am. She wondered what Marjorie meant about the rules being changed. Are they looking to take me off the Council? Is she the only one?
It was difficult to imagine that someone would be so brazen if there weren’t others who shared her beliefs.
I’ve barely taken my oaths and I’m already a double agent and have a conspiracy against me. If this is two days in, where am I going to be in two months?
Dead. She might be dead in two months.
The answer c
onsumed Lane with dread.
“Is she gone?” Sylvie whispered, and Lane whirled back to where the paralegal had resurfaced.
“I think so.”
“I guess she’s not showing you around then,” Sylvie commented dryly.
“I guess not.”
“Sorry I left you with her. I didn’t know you knew each other.”
“We don’t.”
“She’s one you should stay away from at all costs. It shouldn’t be too hard since you’re with Henry. He despises her, too.”
Lane looked at Sylvie. Is she one of the Enchanted? Is that why Henry had me look for her?
“Come on,” Sylvie sighed. “I really do need to get you on that desk. We can meet for lunch if you want. It’ll be better to talk away from the prying eyes and ears of the office.”
Lane nodded slowly, even though she wasn’t sure if Sylvie could be trusted. She had been out in the world for forty-eight hours, and she already mistrusted everyone she’d encountered.
“Don’t look so freaked out,” Sylvie laughed. “It’s only office crap. Don’t let it drag you down on your first day, okay?”
Lane tried to smile, but it came off as a grimace. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to gossiping with you about that bitch, Marjorie.”
Suddenly, all the doubts Lane had about Sylvie dissipated, and she managed a genuine grin.
Enchanted or not, Sylvie might be my first friend.
11
The first day of trial had gone better than Henry could have hoped. His second chair had recovered from whatever sickness had plagued him, and he had decimated two of the prosecution’s experts in the case on cross examination.
How, he had no idea. His thoughts had been only on Lane and getting back to the office all day.
He’d called on lunch recess, only to learn that Lane had gone out for lunch with Sylvie, of all people.
I really shouldn’t have sent her in there unprepared, Henry thought, but Sylvie was the least offensive person I could think of to leave her with. He hurried back to the offices after the trial had adjourned for the day, a new iPhone in his briefcase. After today, he wouldn’t have to worry about how to get in touch with Lane.
He arrived after five-thirty, and most of the staff had already left for the day. He hoped that Lane had not found some way home on her own.
To his relief, he found her on the forty-sixth floor, sitting behind the desk, Sylvie draped over the counter.
“—to get me fired. Yeah, well, good luck, bitch,” Sylvie chuckled. She turned her head at the sound of the elevator doors. “Oh. Hey, Henry.”
“Very professional, Sylvie,” Henry snapped at her. “Get off the counter.”
She pouted in her usual fashion but didn’t argue and slid her full body off the desk.
“There’s no one here,” she objected, straightening her dress.
“How did your first day go?” Henry asked Lane, ignoring Sylvie. “Any problems?”
Sylvie snorted in response. “She had a run-in with Marjorie Thorold first thing.”
Henry stiffened. “What? What did she say?” he demanded, his eyes growing small. Lane shook her mass of red waves.
“It was nothing,” Lane said quickly. “She was just asserting her authority.” She cast Sylvie a nervous look, and Henry could see she didn’t want to discuss it in front of the paralegal.
“Sylvie helped me a lot today,” Lane continued, smiling gratefully at the blonde. “She even bought me lunch.”
Henry eyed Sylvie begrudgingly. “Thanks for that.”
“Well, you know, Henry. Us mistresses have to stick together.” With a snicker, Sylvie disappeared around the corner toward her office, leaving Henry to shake his head.
“She’s a piece of work.”
“She’s been great,” Lane insisted. “I don’t know if I would have gotten through the day without her.”
Henry turned his gaze on her. “What did Marjorie say to you?”
Lane visibly swallowed and lowered her eyes.
“Maybe we can talk about it somewhere else,” she murmured, and ire spiked through him.
Marjorie is really pushing the envelope. I’m going to bring her before the Council very soon and put an end to her craziness.
“I have to go to my offices, and then I’ll take you home,” Henry told her. “It’s only up a few floors.” He waited for her to rise and collect her purse before following him to the elevator bank and looked at her appreciatively.
Lane looked lovely in a tailored suit Henry assumed had belonged to Julia. There was no way she could have gone shopping in time.
I could take her shopping, he thought. It would be exciting to see her eyes light up in a store.
He was again struck at how new everything was to Lane.
“This place is huge,” she breathed when they entered the elevator. “I was afraid to leave my desk, lest I get lost.”
“You’ll figure your way around,” he promised. “And I’m sure everything looks huge to you right now.”
She gave him a look through her peripheral vision, and Henry didn’t need to read her thoughts to know what was on her mind as she stared at him. Quickly, she shifted her eyes away.
“This might be a bad idea, me working here,” Lane confessed when the elevator stopped on the fiftieth floor.
“It’s not. I don’t care what Marjorie said to you.”
“How many of the Enchanted work here? I can’t tell them from the mortals.”
They stepped off the lift, and Henry looked at her worriedly. It had never occurred to him that she wouldn’t be able to distinguish the two.
“You’ll be able to soon enough,” he assured her. “And it’s only Marjorie. Any Enchanted in power does his best not to bring immortals or witches into their company. It complicates things.”
“But Marjorie is here.”
“She snuck by,” Henry admitted. “But she is the only one.” He took her hand, and to his surprise, Lane jerked her own away. “Lane, I’m still the same being I was yesterday,” he said, stopping before the double doors of his office. “What happened today?”
Lane seemed reluctant to answer.
“Lane, look at me.”
Slowly, she raised her eyes and stared at him with worry.
“Marjorie suggested that maybe an Aldwin shouldn’t be on the Council,” she said, and Henry grunted in frustration.
“She’s asking for trouble,” he snapped. “I’ve warned her—”
“But she’s not the only one who thinks that, is she?”
Henry stared into Lane’s eyes and sighed heavily. “It doesn’t matter what the beings say, Lane. You belong on the Seven, whether or not you believe that. Your grandmother had other Aldwin witches to choose from. She didn’t pick you just because you’re her granddaughter.”
“How do you know?” Lane insisted. “And who’s to say Marjorie isn’t right? Just because Alaric made those rules five thousand years ago doesn’t mean that they should still apply. The world has changed—”
“Lane, your concept of time and mine are quite a bit different,” he interjected. He opened the doors to his inner office and watched as her face registered awe at the opulence.
Books lined two of the three walls from floor to ceiling, another side of the room an entire window overlooking the cement landscape of the city. His taste was simple but classical, all woods and marble for furniture and floor.
I’ve gotten really used to this. She’s looking at it for the first time.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Lane asked, continuing their conversation. “Our perceptions of time don’t change the fact that everything changes, and maybe it’s time for a new seat on the Council, one that isn’t an Aldwin.”
“You’re wrong,” Henry replied flatly. He pulled her toward him, his clear blue eyes boring into hers. “There’s something else, too, isn’t there?”
My mother, she sighed silently, an
d he nodded.
“I know Julia has a strong hold on you.”
“I don’t want to talk about my mother,” Lane said, trying to pull away, but he held her firmly.
“I’ll let you go if that’s what you want,” he said quietly. “But only if that’s what you want. No one should come between us, Lane, not when our time is limited.”
She returned his gaze, the confusion nakedly plain in her face.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “It’s all so much to take in.”
“And I get that,” Henry said softly, his lips inches from hers. He felt her body relax, and he, too, exhaled slowly. The resistance she had given was nothing more than a lame attempt to resist the feelings they had for one another.
“Henry, if we pursue this…”
“We’ll keep it from your mother as long as possible,” he promised. Lane’s lips quivered, and Henry knew that she was inviting him to place his mouth on hers. For just a few seconds longer, he held her gaze, smiling softly before pressing his mouth to hers.
The spark between them grew, creating electricity of its own. Lane’s frame sank into him, and in a sweeping motion, he picked her up in his arms, parting his lids slightly to study her face.
It was clear to see she was entranced by the passion overcoming them both, and when Henry laid her on the oxblood sofa, his palms falling against her body to feel the curves beneath her clothes, Lane only sighed.
He had never been so aroused by another body, the feeling of her skin succulent against his lips, and his head bowed over to explore all avenues, missing nothing. Lane’s trembling fingers danced through his hair, and he permitted the hypnotic sensation to drive him lower over the buttons of her blouse.
In seconds, she was nude beneath him, her breasts captured in his mouth, his tongue jutting forth to sample everything evenly. Her breaths grew faster, and she raised her legs to fall alongside his waist, the hem of her skirt rising. Their waists joined, and Lane gasped, her eyes popping open as she felt the size of him against her damp panties.
“I…”
“I know,” Henry murmured tenderly. “I won’t hurt you. Not here or anywhere else.”
Their eyes locked, and she nodded slowly.
“I trust you,” she breathed, and Henry could see she meant it.