Harmony 03 After Glow (21 page)

Emmett planted both hands on the polished surface and leaned toward Perkins. “When?”

“There was a formal inquiry following an unfortunate incident in the catacombs a few months ago. Miss Smith maintained that two Guild members had failed to carry out their assignments properly and as a result she very nearly died underground. The charges were quite serious so naturally Mr. Wyatt was apprised of the situation.”

“Where is that file?”

“I’ll get it for you, sir.” Perkins leaped nimbly to his feet and went to unlock the heavily secured door of the file room.

Emmett watched him open a long, metal drawer and pluck out a yellow folder.

“The results of the inquiry were satisfactory.” Perkins handed the folder to Emmett. “The two Guild men were completely exonerated of all charges. But Mr. Wyatt had some lingering concerns about that pair of hunters. He spoke with their commanders and instructed them to watch both men for a while. But in the end, the problem, if there was one, went away.”

Emmett opened the file. “What do you mean, it went away?”

“The two hunters resigned from the Guild a couple of months after the inquiry. They said they wanted to pursue other careers.” Perkins’s shoulders moved in an elegant shrug. “As you are well aware, sir, it is not at all uncommon for hunters who have worked for several years and who have been financially successful to retire from excavation work.”

“Yes, I know.”

Active ghost-hunting tended to be a young man’s, or occasionally a young woman’s, game. The need to be constantly alert while underground, the risks of getting singed or badly psi burned, and the constant irritation that came from dealing with arrogant academics who generally viewed hunters as so much dumb muscle, took their toll. A hunter could make good money working the catacombs and many of them chose to take the profits and retire early.

Emmett studied the extremely limited data on the pair of hunters who had been involved in Lydia’s Lost Weekend incident. “Where are these two now?”

“I have no idea, sir, but the people down in the retirement benefits department will no doubt have addresses.”

Emmett closed the folder with a snap. “Find them, Perkins. I want to talk to them.”

“Yes, sir.”

L
YDIA WAS SITTING
in her tiny living room at six-thirty that evening, drinking a cup of rez-tea and watching the fog roll in over the Dead City, when the phone rang. Fuzz, curled on the sofa beside her, twitched a little in response.

“Don’t bother,” Lydia said to him, rising to her feet. “I’ll get it.”

She scooped up the phone. “Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?” Emmett asked. Each word sounded as if it had been cut from a block of ice with a chain saw.

The potent blend of anger and pain and dread that had been brewing in her ever since she had left his office that afternoon pulsed through her. She would not lose her temper, she vowed. She could be just as stone cold as any Guild boss.

“I’m home, of course,” she said with exaggerated patience. “As you obviously know since you just dialed this number. Where are you? Still at the office?”

“I’m at my townhouse, which is where you’re supposed to be. You live here now.”

“No, I don’t live at your townhouse. I spent a few nights there, including last night, but I never actually moved my stuff into your place. I’m still paying rent here.”

“Damn it, this is about what happened today in my office, isn’t it? You’re still upset.”

“What was I supposed to do after you made it clear you didn’t need or want a wife?”

“I never said that. I said I didn’t want you involved in Guild business.”

“Well, since you’re all about Guild business,” she retorted, “it’s going to be a little tricky staying out of your affairs, isn’t it? I’m doing my best, though. That’s why I’m keeping this place.”

“We’re married, Lydia.”

“It’s just a Marriage of Convenience, remember? I figure
convenience
is the operative word.”

“It’s the key word, all right, and I don’t find it very
convenient
to have my wife living six blocks away. I’ve got a piece of paper that says you’re committed to me for a full year. As far as I’m concerned this MC of ours is the equivalent of a business contract.”

She was starting to feel a lot more cheerful, she thought. Emmett wasn’t nearly as cold-blooded as he sometimes appeared.

“Nothing in that contract says we have to live together,” she pointed out politely.

“Marriage implies a shared residence and you know it.”

“Careful, Emmett, you’re starting to sound like a lawyer. What are you going to do if I don’t move in with you? Sue me?”

“I think I can come up with something a little more creative than a lawsuit,” Emmett said, sounding dangerous. “I’m a Guild boss, after all.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It sure is. And now that we’ve got that settled, let’s talk about tonight. I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty. As soon as we’ve put in an appearance at that damned ball, we’ll go straight back to your place, collect some of your stuff and Fuzz, and come back here. Tomorrow I’ll arrange to have a moving van pack up the rest of your belongings and transfer them here.”

She lounged against the kitchen counter. “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t have time to go through the yellow pages and select a moving company. You’re running the Guild.”

“Who said anything about going through the phone book? I’ll have Perkins handle it.”

“Gee, it must be nice to have an administrative assistant.”

“Comes in handy. See you at eight-thirty.”

He de-rezzed the connection before she could respond.

Slowly she replaced the phone and smiled at Fuzz.

“I do believe that I got his attention, Fuzz. Pack your bags. We’re moving into his place tonight.”

She heard the key in the front door precisely at eight-thirty. Fuzz skittered eagerly toward the tiny foyer.

She went back to the mirror to check her reflection for what had to be the millionth time. She still couldn’t quite believe that the sophisticated-looking creature in the glass was really her.

Midnight
looked even more sleek and glamorous tonight than it had when she had tried it on in the boutique. The stylist at the salon that afternoon had sculpted her hair into a graceful, elegant chignon that called attention to the nape of her neck and emphasized her eyes.

Following the advice she had been given, she had kept the jewelry to a minimum and made sure that all of it was gold.

“Lydia?” Emmett’s voice echoed grimly in the front room.

“I’ll be right there,” she called back.

She turned away from the mirror and went down the hall. One look at Emmett and she forgot all about her own image.

Dressed in formal black, amber eyes gleaming with power, he looked like an elegantly lethal specter-cat on the hunt. She felt a familiar tingling through all her senses and had to fight the urge to throw herself at him and drag him to the floor.

He watched her come toward him and gave her a slow, sensual smile. Energy hummed in the air. She felt the hair stir on the nape of her bare neck. Heat pooled in her lower body.

“Whatever that dress cost, it was worth it,” Emmett said. The words were heavy with sexual promise. “Sure glad you’re coming home with me tonight, Mrs. London.”

The grand entrance of Restoration Hall was choked with reporters and cameras. In addition, a large crowd had gathered to watch the guests walk the gauntlet of red carpet.

Emmett eased the Slider to a halt directly in front. “Ready?”

Lydia forgot about being cool. A trickle of panic shot through her.

“Oh, jeez,” she whispered. “It looks just like it does on the rez-screen every year. I’ll bet Melanie and Jack and Zane and Olinda are all watching us right now.”

“Whatever you do, just keep smiling,” Emmett growled.

Uniformed valets leaped for the doors on both sides of the Slider before Lydia could respond. A hand reached down to assist her.

“It’s the new Guild boss and his wife,” someone shouted.

A murmur of excitement rippled across the crowd.

Flashbulbs went off like fireworks, dazzling Lydia as she stepped out of the Slider. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. So much for being cool, she thought. She was afraid to move for fear she would trip on the curb or the edge of the carpet, neither of which she could see because of the black dots dancing in front of her eyes.

And then Emmett was there, taking her arm to steady her. He walked her along the red carpet toward the elaborately gilded doors.

More flashbulbs burst. This time she was ready for them. She kept her smile plastered in place until she and Emmett were safely through the doorway.

She started to say
whew, glad that’s over
but then she caught sight of the long reception line composed of dignitaries, all of whom seemed genuinely awed by the new Guild boss.

At the end of that ritual they were ushered into a vast, glittering ballroom. Lydia thought she was prepared for the setting because she had seen it so many times at home on the rez-screen and in magazine photos.

But no film or picture could do justice to the true splendor of the hall. Massive chandeliers dominated the gilded and mirrored ceiling. Huge murals on the walls told the story of the violence of the Era of Discord and the triumph of the Last Battle of Old Cadence.

“I should have brought my camera,” Lydia whispered to Emmett.

He was amused. “Don’t worry, there will be plenty of pictures in the papers tomorrow.”

There was no time to say anything else because people materialized immediately around Emmett. As Melanie had predicted, he was one of the most powerful men in the room and that meant that everyone wanted to be seen chatting with him.

She was wondering if anyone would notice if she slipped away to get a closer look at the scenes in the massive murals when someone put a glass of sparkling champagne in her hand.

“You look very lovely tonight, Lydia,” Gannon Hepscott said.

She turned quickly, delighted to see a familiar face in the crowd. “Mr. Hepscott. I should have realized that you would be here.”

He smiled, looking as exotic as ever in an all-white tuxedo. His heavy mane of silver-white hair was tied back with a strip of leather again tonight, just as it had been when she had met with him in his office.

“I was just thinking that this bash was going to be even more boring than usual when I saw you and your husband walk in,” Gannon said.

“Do you attend every year?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. “It’s good business. Frankly, I’d rather be at home with a beer and a bowl of popcorn, watching the festivities on the rez-screen.”

She laughed. “That’s what I usually do.” She waved a hand to include the brilliant scene. “I’ve got to tell you, this makes a pretty exciting change of pace.”

He chuckled and glanced at Emmett, who was involved in a conversation with the mayor of Cadence. “Your new husband looks like he’s going to be busy for a while. May I have this dance?”

“I’d be delighted.”

She put her glass down on a passing tray. As if the tiny clink of sound had caught his ear, Emmett suddenly glanced in her direction. The corners of his eyes tightened almost imperceptibly. She wiggled her fingers and smiled very brightly to let him know that she was fine and that he didn’t have to worry about her becoming a wallflower. Then she turned back to Gannon and allowed him to lead her out onto the floor.

The musicians were playing a sedate dance number. Gannon took her into his arms. She was amused to notice that he was careful to keep her at a polite, respectful distance. What man in his right mind would want to irritate the new Guild boss by dancing too closely with his wife?

“I have to tell you, the news of your marriage came as something of a shock, Lydia,” Gannon said dryly. “I was aware that you were seeing London but I had no idea that the two of you were serious.”

“Mmm.” She couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say.

“I suppose the situation with Mercer Wyatt prompted you and London to move your plans forward?”

“Mmm.”

“I realize that in your new role as the wife of one of the most powerful men in town you’re going to be extremely busy. Does this mean that I should be looking for a new antiquities consultant?” Gannon asked.

Horrified, Lydia stumbled and would have fallen ignominiously on her rear right there in the middle of the dance floor if Gannon had not steadied her.

“No,” she said, anxious to reassure him. “The marriage changes nothing. Really. I fully intend to continue to pursue my professional career, Mr. Hepscott.”

“You’re sure? A man in London’s position probably makes a lot of social demands on his wife.”

“Hardly any,” she said airily. “Certainly none that will interfere with my professional activities. I’ve already made a lot of progress on your project. I’ve notified several of my best contacts on Ruin Row and I’ve made some appointments to look at some very interesting relics.”

“I’m relieved to hear you say that. I’ll admit that I’ve been looking forward to working with you. Don’t laugh, but I have to tell you that if life had turned out a little differently for me, I might have gotten a degree in para-archaeology, myself.”

“Is that so? What happened? Did you realize that you could make a lot more money in real estate?”

“No. Believe it or not, making money was never a big goal for me. It just came with the territory, so to speak. You know how it goes. You agree to work in the family firm for a few years after you graduate and then one morning you wake up and discover that you’re running the business and that several hundred people are depending on you for a paycheck.”

“I understand.” She smiled to hide the wave of old sadness and lingering loss that still had the power to surprise her with its depths now and again at unexpected moments. “Well, sort of. I have to admit I never had to worry much about family pressure.”

His hold tightened imperceptibly and his pale eyes softened. “But not for a good reason, I take it?”