She slipped in with hesitant grace, and I noticed she’d taken my advice from her first week. To enhance her naturally willowy frame and pale skin, I had recommended a pale pink basque set paired with white thigh-high stockings and closed-toe pink pumps. With her long, wavy red hair and naturally sweet disposition, the look created the perfect illusion of youthful naivety that some clients found irresistible.
No one would ever guess she was a thirty-eight-year-old fairy who cared for her aging parents and a de-winged older brother.
“You can just call me Miss Aniyah. Now, what’s going on, Natalie?” I tried to keep the exasperation out of my voice, but when she flinched, I knew I hadn’t quite succeeded.
“W-well, y-you see… there’s this m-man in the lobby, c-claiming he has a t-tour appointment with Mr. Tempest, b-but since he’s o-off…” She trailed off, clearly hoping I’d connect the dots myself.
I stood from my desk with a sigh. “I understand. Tell him I’ll be down to meet him personally. But give me a few minutes to change and pull his file before you let him know, all right?”
She nodded quickly and scampered out of my office, her long legs carrying her in a hurry.
I peeled off my crop top sweatshirt and high-rise leggings, heading to the wardrobe tucked behind a mirrored panel. From it, I pulled my favorite little black dress. Silk front and back panels and sheer lace down the sides, it hugged every curve like it was custom made for me. It had built-in cups that lifted my breasts just enough to be enticing without crossing into indecent. I was selling sex appeal, not myself.
I paired it with strappy heels that criss crossed up my calves, sleek and commanding.
Once dressed, I moved to my desk and checked the schedule. Nothing. Van hadn’t booked any tours today. I checked his notes, and there were no pending issues, no last-minute changes.
Taking a shot in the dark, I scanned the schedule for nearby dates. Two tours were booked for tomorrow and one from the day before. I clicked into the security feed for the lobby.
There he was.
A man with long blond hair sat calmly, one leg crossed over the other, dressed in navy slacks and brown loafers. The crisp white shirt and navy sport coat practically screamedold money.
I flipped through the applications from the possible matches. Only one hadn’t submitted a photo. Lucus Kingsley.
A vampire investment banker from London with family ties to British aristocracy. Not just rich—legacy rich.The kind of wealth that didn’t disappear because it had been grown through centuries of compound interest. My favorite kind of client, even though his tour was scheduled for yesterday.Let's hope he won't be a pain in my ass.
I spritzed on my signature scent, a heady blend of bergamot, amber, and patchouli with a hint of citrus, and with that final touch, I was ready to meet the Winged Palace’s newest member. I fully intended to bag this whale then rub it in Van’s face, letting him knowIhad closed the deal with the one who blewhimoff.
“Isthis how you treat all your potential members?”
I hadn’t even made it two steps into the lobby before this puffed-up prick was on my ass, and I wasn’t remotely in the hospitality mood. Alic and I had fought over whether he’d go into the security room instead of lurking around my office door until Iwas ready to leave. Finally, I’d let him do what he wanted just so I could get out of there.
I took a breath, mentally reminding myself to keep calm. He was just another entitled customer, and those were my specialty. He was lucky he had that cute British accent to soften the blow.
I didn’t acknowledge his question. Instead, I let my hips sway seductively as I walked toward him, offering a smooth smile and my hand.
“Hello, Mister…?”
His molten silver eyes locked on mine, hard as tempered steel. Rising, he took my hand in a businesslike shake, his grip firm, bordering on hostile.
“You asked for all that unnecessary information up front, and now you can’t even keep my name on file?” He lifted his chin, giving me a cold, superior stare like I was beneath him. Forgettable, disposable.
But I smiled. The urge to mark up that arrogant, pretty face curled through me like smoke. The Syndicate boss version of myself envisioned my diamond rings breaking that perfect face, leaving not just cuts and bruises but a memory of who not to fuck with. Glittering, intimate, and impossible to forget. A kiss in reverse, sharp and shining and so like me.
Randy shot out of his seat, his head bouncing between the two of us, before he finally took some steps around his desk, getting ready to remove the guy. Cute… and exactly the reaction I needed to stay cool.
Thinking back to my early training days with Vesta, I could hear her voice echoing in my head, telling me to see this asan opportunity. One of the ones where she taught me how to turn a snarling dog into a docile pet. There was always value in breaking down a cocky bastard—properly.
First, he needed to be put in his place.
Keeping my gaze soft, frowning just slightly, I made my first move with a steady, courteous tone.
“I assure you, we keep diligent records. I saw no appointments for today… but Ididsee two scheduled for tomorrow: a Mr. Ryan and a Miss Camden. And a missed appointment yesterday for a Mr. Kingsley.”
His expression shifted, eyes going wide while his mind worked to figure out whether the fault laid with us or him. Shifting to the side and away from me, he furiously tapped at his phone, and I took that moment to really look at him.
Smooth, pale skin unmarred by time or scars, which gave him a deceptively youthful look. Long golden locks that looked like woven sunlight shimmered against his chiseled jaw. His designer clothes hugged a lean, toned frame with precision, the kind only a master tailor could manage. My gaze flicked lower. Oh yes, definitely tailor-made to accentuate his assets.
