Foolishly, I sent a zing of shock up his spine. He didn’t have any right to address me like he had. I was the only one with the family’s interests in mind, not to mention a stronger power. Magnum could only move objects using his mental will. It always bothered Mother that his ability was so mundane.
Blowing out a long breath, I listened to hear if he went to argue with the woman in question, and sure enough he did. I wasn’t worried; my mother could handle herself with the best of them. Tulya’s mother, Esmeralda, had been a notable friend in that way—teaching her the art of coercion and getting what one wanted by design. Which was likely why Ceci was so hell-bent on this match; Cinder’s family came from extreme powers. If anything, it was an arrangement to deepen our family’s capabilities.
Deciding that work had escaped me after Magnum’s tantrum, combined with it being late and Saturday fast approaching, I flicked off the light in my office. Stepping into the corridor, I pulled the door shut and turned left toward my personalquarters, the hallway lit by only the faint floor lights. My eyes grew heavy.
After my dad passed, I turned his private chambers into my residence, leaving behind the small apartment I’d kept from my university days and moving back home into the care of my mother’s housekeepers. When he was alive, my father used the massive bedroom to rest in the middle of the night or day, while he worked excruciating hours. One time, an ex-girlfriend of mine from high school had suggested he took lovers. I ended that relationship immediately. There were many constructive criticisms of Donovan Malachite Senior, and adulterer was not one of them. His temper and tenacity in business relations and deals were seated in his need to love, care, and provide for his wife and family.
Opening up the door to my bedroom, I turned the light on, sliding the switch down to dim the chandelier. I wanted to lie down on the mahogany sleigh bed I’d purchased as soon as I moved in and spend a few days in the sheets, avoiding what was to come. But I had to pack.
Traveling to the States, chaperoning Tulya, was not on my wish list. Yet when I opened my armoire, I pulled out sweaters and shirts I was certain would make her look at me. While spending the next few days, weeks, or whatever it took to seek out Valerie while being near Tulya was less than desirable, it was also my greatest fantasy.
The redheaded, fair-skinned, angelic beauty had my eye since we were in middle school, maybe before that. She’d handled everyone with such grace, always smiling and sending warm and caring looks. She’d speak softly, thanking the teachers, trying to go unnoticed. Back then I didn’t know what the feeling was in my gut, and later in my groin, when I’d spot her in the hallway or class. But in high school, when she was still in eighth grade and I was a junior, I became educated in the biology of it all.
It was only then that Tulya began to understand the depth of what she could do when every brokenhearted high schooler asked her to take their pain away. While I was on an opposite path. At first, I couldn’t harness my ability to cause agony, and Tulya obliged almost every request to remove it. We were two ships passing at night for lack of a better description.
Sadly, ingesting all the suffering began to take a toll on Tuvy’s own heart and energy. There was simply too much breaking up and making up and then ending things all over again among teenagers. The roller coaster of it all made her go weak, and she spent a few weeks at home rehabilitating her strength.
It was during this time that I learned my mother would never permit my feelings for Tulya. Ezza was her closest friend, and she understood the magnitude of her daughter’s power. Ezza would never allow Tulya and her skills out of her grasp; she’d wield them for all they were worth, milking them for additional abilities lying in wait, among other concerns my mother refused to get into.
I began to resent the women’s friendship and the inside knowledge my mom seemed to know. But there wasn’t much I could do. Ezza was a dominant force, and my own mother was desperate to be marked as Rubian royalty. I didn’t buy into any of it other than my father’s making me promise to see to my mother’s happiness.
One thing for sure, I’d never be fool enough to shower Ezza with my brand of magic. So when it came to the two older women, I learned to play by the rules. Which was how I came to be assigned the task ahead of me, shuttling Tulya to an assignment she didn’t want, in a place she’d only been once or twice. Ezza always had an eye for the Minister’s role. She wanted to be the first woman to hold the office, and her daughter was her ticket. My mother was the lemming, who thought she was a part of it all.
Deep in thought, I finally realized I’d laid out enough clothes for a month, including a swimsuit, dreaming of Tulya on the beach.
Blowing out a breath, I scolded myself, tossing everything into a suitcase, thinking I’d buy incidentals in Miami, before yanking off my shirt and pants, letting them fall to the floor, and lying down in my briefs. Morning was moments away, and I’d need as much energy as possible to deal with the actual mission, let alone keeping my feelings for Tulya corralled. Earlier, my talking to her, touching her arm and spending time close to her, had been a momentary lapse in judgment.
I had to try harder.
My fist met her door with a severity even I was ashamed by, but I had to resist the pull to be a comfort to the woman; this was family business. “Tuvy,” I hollered, my voice echoing around me, using her nickname, trying to maintain boundaries. I’d already complimented her full name, saying it was for a woman, and now I was her chaperone.
The door flung open and there stood my worst nightmare and my life-sized fantasy.
With her scarlet hair down and flying all around her delicately made-up face, I forced myself to shut my mouth in record time. Under other circumstances and with anyone else, I would have said something likeMorning, gorgeous, but wrong place, person, and time.
“I need two minutes,” she said, leaving the door wide open and pivoting the other direction.
“The car’s running,” I whispered to no one.
“Help yourself to coffee,” she yelled back before heading down the hallway.
Destined to wait, I walked back to my sports car and turned off the engine, clicking the locks despite no one being around for a mile.
Slipping inside the house, I rubbed my hands together to warm them up, and took a beat, looking around. The only other time I’d been in Tulya’s cottage was last night, and I’d been so agitated on multiple fronts that I hadn’t noticed anything other than the fire I built. It now sat extinguished, heat pumping from the vents instead.
It was a simple interior, inviting gray hues and a million throw blankets and pillows, without any words printed on them yet all beckoning someone to get comfy. The open kitchen was a combination of stainless and white, a contradiction to the rustic exterior.
A small desk sat by the window, an expensive computer set up on top of it and a bookshelf to the right. For a moment, I’d forgotten Tulya was a writer. She wrote thrillers and sold them under a pen name. I couldn’t think of what it was—I’d never read one but heard they were dark and full of depth.
Made sense, that since her mother kept her in this little house like a caged bird, she would create her own imaginary worlds.
“Ready?”
I turned and found Tulya standing there, black vegan leather pants hugging her curves, a V-neck white sweater, and her hair tied back and secured, keeping her safe from my running a hand through it.
I nodded, unable to get the words out, and started moving toward the door, clocking her luggage and grabbing it forcefully—not that I would be so bold with my own feelings, considering the task in front of us. The thought had me internally laughing;I was as brash as they came but I knew our mothers’ position on us.
“Coffee to go?” Tulya called from behind me, kicking my thoughts back into place. I shook my head and went through the alcove, walking toward the car and trying to gather myself while lugging her shit.
