Seducing Destiny (Brothers of Fate Book 2) (2 page)

Blake kept his attention focused on Luci’s face. He wouldn’t let his gaze fall lower, to the silver locket nestled at the top of her cleavage. “Picasso was as much about commercial mass production as Andy Warhol or any modern clip art collection.”

“That’s a bit dismissive. Cubism was about taking three-dimensional objects and representing all their facets simultaneously in two-dimensional space.” There was no irritation in her voice.

He had no idea how they’d gotten on the subject of art, but he was thoroughly enjoying the conversation. “You talk about it as if you knew the guy. Unless you were there, you can’t say for certain.”

She rolled her eyes, and laughed. “Because you were good pals with him? Besides, art is as much about interpretation as anything. You might see Warhol as simplistic, but those bright, vibrant representations of pop culture got people to pay attention to the medium.”

“I’ll agree with that. When it comes right down to it, for you or me, it’s about what the eye appreciates.” This time he didn’t stop himself from looking her over. “A stunning Raphael or Renoir.”

She blushed but didn’t look away. “Masters of the human form and color and techniques. Definitely beautiful work.”

When he’d seen her sitting in the lobby, it would have been so much easier to tell her ‘thanks, but no thanks.’ Except, in addition to being distractingly attractive, she was also the most qualified middle-tier developer he’d talked to in four cities. That didn’t mean he had to cut the conversation short just yet, though.

He needed to stow his lust and hope she accepted his offer. Without the various pieces of this project, he and the other gods supporting this venture couldn’t compile a system to record all the gods who had passed, vanished, or turned against the fates. Nor could they identify the vast list of mortals who might be in line to take some of their places and ascend.

Eternity was at stake. “Do you have any questions for me?”

Luci never broke eye contact for more than a few seconds. The uncertainty that had hovered around her in the coffee shop vanished when she launched into her presentation. “I’d like to know a little more about your company. What do you do?”

The truth wouldn’t do. “We engineer resource-maximizing convergence, to continually enhance accurate scenarios.” His nerves twinged at the meaningless, memorized bullshit. How had he never realized before how terrible that sounded? It didn’t matter.  Everyone would hear the same information. It was safer that way.

Her lips drew into a thin line. “How long have you been in business?” she asked.

“I started the company when I was in my twenties.” That was almost true. He’d started
a
company, and one venture had melted into the next over the centuries, as times and necessity changed. The words still tasted wrong passing his lips.

“I see. So... the company’s about five or ten years old?” Skepticism coated her words.

He gave her his warmest smile. “Not as new as you might think, and I guarantee we’re stable.”

“Of course.” Her tone was flat. “I think that’s all my questions.”

He wasn’t ready to stop chatting with her yet, and his desire only had a little to do with not ending the meeting on a sour note. “Listen, I’m really enjoying this, and I think we still have more to talk about. Interview-wise, of course. I was going to grab some lunch before my next appointment. I’d love it if you could join me.”

Her frown deepened, and she fiddled with the strap on her laptop bag. “No, thank you. I won’t take up any more of your time.”

How had that gone downhill so fast? He stood as she did, keeping his voice pleasant and friendly. “This is the part of the conversation where I tell you I’ll be in touch, but I’ll be honest. I haven’t talked to anyone who comes close to your qualifications. The contract is yours, if you’re interested.”

She shook his hand. Despite the warmth missing from her expression, her touch still lit his senses on fire, and sent vivid images of her and of his past racing through his thoughts. “Thank you,” she said. “If you can email me a copy of the offer, I’d like some time to think about it.”

That wasn’t what she was supposed to say. Not as though he had a choice. “Of course.” He pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to her. He resisted the urge to tease her about having his number now as well. The flirting didn’t seem to be working out. “My direct line. Reach out with any questions, and I hope to hear from you soon.” As he said the words, he realized just how much he meant them. Because he needed her on board. Not for any other reason.

****

Luci was glad to be back home, so she could dive back into her job search. She didn’t like to be out of work for too long—it ate into her savings. She stripped off her jacket the moment she was inside, and peeled off the rest of her suit as she strode toward the bedroom. Why was she even considering Blake’s offer? The money was good, but every time he told her something new about the job or the company, her bullshit meter ticked up another notch.

When he’d invited her to lunch, she almost thought he was interested despite his disclaimers. Even if she did let herself believe the desire in his gaze was real, she wasn’t in the mood to pick at a salad in a crowded restaurant, just so no one would ask if she was sure she needed a side of fries with that burger.

She hung her suit in the closet and snagged a pair of her favorite jeans. The ones with the tears right under her ass, because of the way she’d worn the denim out. She grabbed a tank top from her drawer and tugged it on as she made her way back to the kitchen table—the most comfortable spot for working in the one-bedroom.

Time to do some digging and find out if Blake’s answers were bullshit, or if she was just being paranoid because of her experience with Craig. She plucked a bottle of iced tea from the fridge and settled in to do her research.

She didn’t want to find out Blake was a fraud. Despite everything, she enjoyed the conversation with him. The way they’d flowed from technical questions to pop culture, to music, to art had been the most fun she’d had talking to someone in a long time.

An hour later, her head spun from the circles she’d run in, chasing invisible trails. She’d found several references to Blake’s company, all for different functions and businesses, but each time she followed a new link, it dead-ended.

She needed to just tell him no and find a different contract. One that probably wouldn’t pay as much and almost definitely wouldn’t include the mental stimulation or eye-candy, but it wasn’t like she had either of those things before this morning.

Her thoughts ground to a halt when the next website loaded. A phone number and an address. Disappointment nudged her senses. Blake had said he only had one office, and it was in Nashville, Tennessee. This was in Tampa Bay, Florida. Maybe it was just a coincidence, and the two weren’t related at all. Best way to find out would be to call and ask if the place had anything to do with Blake. She hesitated with her hand over her phone.

She was being stupid. She needed the answer. Putting off the call wouldn’t change what she already knew—taking this job was a bad idea. She sucked in a deep breath and dialed the number.

“F and M Communications.” A pleasant voice greeted her.

Maybe she should have thought more about what she was going to say before she placed the call. “May I speak with Blake Ugagnkin?”

Silence greeted Luci. She checked her phone. The call hadn’t been dropped.

“Blake—?” The pleasant voice snapped off. “I’m sorry, he’s not in this week. Can I transfer you to someone else or give him a message?”

“No. Thank you.” Luci disconnected. It wasn’t proof of anything. So he worked in an office he’d implied didn’t exist. No big deal. Except, combined with everything else...

She couldn’t do this. The pros didn’t make up for the risk she’d take signing on. That was a practical business decision. The best one she could make. Even if nothing was there, her uneasiness was enough to make the job a must-avoid. She could find another one.

“Thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch.” Blake shook the hand of the contractor he’d interviewed. As soon as the man was gone, Blake sank back into the hotel-lobby sofa. He raked his fingers through his hair and exhaled. This guy had looked good on paper, but he’d shown up in a battered T-shirt, cut-off shorts, and reeking of... Blake wasn’t even sure. Weed, beer, and sweat. But the job didn’t require people to be presentable, just accurate. The meeting had consisted of an hour and a half of stories about past clients, and how stupid they’d been. The best thing about the interview was it had been Blake’s last for the day.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he grabbed it. The device was set to remain silent, except for priority messages. He dialed into his voice mail and listened to the short message from his brother and business partner, Eli—Byleist, as he’d been known when they were younger. Eli was one of the first impacted by the old myths and curses, and was proof results could vary from the assumed interpretation.

The message was short. “One of your appointments is digging. She talked to Freyr’s office. Call me.”

Uneasiness danced through Blake’s joints like a million tiny jolts. When Eli’s fate had played out the way it did, Freyr had become the company’s most vocal opposition. In the past few months, his people had become increasingly aggressive and violent in response, hunting down mortals and weaker gods on the list, and eliminating them. It shouldn’t matter that one of Blake’s applicants had called, though. Given his encounter with Morrigan this morning, Blake’s location wasn’t a secret, and that would make it simple to figure out who he was interviewing if Freyr cared.

So why couldn’t Blake sit still? He dialed Eli’s number, and drummed his fingers against his leg while he listened to the rings.

“You got my message.” His brother skipped the formalities. After centuries of working together, they didn’t usually bother with things like hello.

“Fill me in.”

“This woman is on one of our outlying lists, and now they know who and where she is.” Papers shuffled in the background. “Lucinda Tansey?”

Fuck. Dread spiked through Blake, and he clenched his empty hand until his knuckles ached. That meant she played a part in the prophecies. A mortal with a destiny, and very susceptible to things like death until her fate came to pass. “I thought we vetted all the applicants against known names.”

“We found this reference buried in a filing cabinet from decades ago. We wouldn’t have known to look, if your person in Freyr’s office hadn’t given us a heads-up when Lucinda’s name set off their warning bells.”

This was why they needed to make everything digital. Exactly the reason he was hiring contractors. Because there was too much to keep track of on paper. “What tier is she?” That would determine if her ties to the myths were significant, minor, or just a remote possibility.

“We’re still digging up information about what her fate may be, but she’s designated as significant. Could be a clerical error or...” Eli trailed off. They both knew that wasn’t the kind of risk they could take. “I can send someone for her this afternoon.”

The correct answer was yes. They needed to dispatch a local operative, to start surveillance and intercede as needed. If Luci accepted the contract keeping an eye on her would be easier. Then again, if Freyr decided she was an immediate threat, an operative might not be able to step in quickly enough.

“Helblindi”—Eli’s sharp tone carried over the line—“make a call.”

“I’ll handle it myself.” Blake shouldn’t have said that. What was he going to do? Follow her around like a stalker? An operative could take care of that. Or Blake could knock on her front door and tell her,
‘It’s possible you’re being hunted by a powerful god because you may or may not be a threat to his future’
?

There was no scenario he could picture in which that went over well. It didn’t matter. He’d figure out it. His cock stirred at the thought of seeing her again. Her sarcastic laugh. Her witty comebacks. Her gorgeous curves. Long forgotten emotions he’d locked away—he thought forever.

Since he wasn’t one of those gods who could teleport or fly, he had a bit of a drive ahead of him. With any luck, it would be enough time to think up a plan and convince his mind to stop taunting him with graphic fantasies of stripping Luci down, one piece of clothing at a time.

****

Her pizza was here. The knock on the front door pulled Luci from her job search. She hadn’t told Blake yet that she wasn’t accepting his offer, but she would. First thing tomorrow morning. Well, not first thing. Maybe later in the day, to make sure he wasn’t busy and...

She shelved the rambling thoughts that had assaulted her since she made the decision not to take the contract, grabbed the money from the table beside her, and crossed the living room. She opened the door. When she registered the sight in front of her, she frowned.

The woman on the other side looked up, pale eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I was looking for Joey?” She trailed her finger along the edge of her collar.

Who? “You have the wrong apartment.” Discomfort rolled over Luci. Something about this woman made her grind her teeth. “I don’t know him.” She pushed the door shut. It was abrupt of her, but her skin crawled, and the urge to bolt surged through her.

“That’s all right. You’ll do.”

The knob was yanked from Luci’s hand, jarring her wrist, and the door crashed into her arm before colliding with slammed into the wall. A sharp gust shredded through the room. Her hair whipped in her face and stung her eyes. The slam echoed off through the room, and just as suddenly as the wind kicked up, it vanished. She shoved strands of brown out of her field of vision.

Her visitor stood immediately in front of her, smile in place. Pale blue eyes searched Luci’s face. “It really is you. It’s been a long time.”

The run-anywhere-but-here instinct pounded inside Luci until her head ached. What the hell was going on? “Morrigan?” She didn’t know this woman’s, but the name had popped into her head, associated with those pale eyes, and felt as real as Luci’s swelling terror.

“You remember me.” Morrigan sounded smug. “You’re really”—she looked Luci over again—“kind of bland, aren’t you? Not that it matters.” She held up her right hand, thumb and middle finger pressed together, as if she were going to snap.

“Enough.” A roar filled Luci’s ears and skull, and Morrigan stopped moving. It wasn’t just her snap that froze mid-air, but her entire frame, down to a grotesquely stalled smirk.

Luci blinked, to clear her eyes and thoughts, but it didn’t help. A jumble of questions assaulted her mind, mingling with a fear she didn’t understand. When she focused again, she wasn’t sure she was seeing right.

Blake had Morrigan pinned to the far wall, his hand at her throat. Her feet dangled so her toes only brushed the carpet. “Leave.” His voice was low and threatening, rolling on a breeze that didn’t have a source.

Terror spilled through Luci. Whatever this was, she wasn’t going to put up with it. Her apartment was a wreck, and she had no idea who these people were. This was too much. “What the
fuck
is going on?” she screamed.

Blake glanced back at Luci and then at the blue-eyed lunatic. Morrigan dropped, landing lightly, and dipped her head toward Blake’s. “Catch you later, lover boy. Good luck with this.” And then she vanished.

Luci shook her head. There was no way a woman had just disappeared from her living room. She looked at Blake. Why hadn’t he answered her? Why was he even here? “Blake?”

He frowned, not meeting her gaze. “We need to get you out of here.”

“What?” With the strange woman gone, Luci’s terror ebbed, leaving room for confusion and frustration. “No. Answer my questions. Who was that? Why are you in my apartment? And why the fuck would I go anywhere with some guy I’ve only known for a few hours, and don’t even trust?”

The creases in his brow deepened, and was that hurt in his eyes? Good. Served him right. He shook his head, and a blank mask slid onto his face. “You come with me, or stay here and the next one who comes for you will kill you. Decide now.”

She sank to the couch and rubbed her hands over her face. He was lying. This was some sort of... She didn’t even know, but it wasn’t real. So why did every inch of her tell her to do what he said?