I almost smiled. "Then let's go."
We walked toward the front doors together, and I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever happened next was going to change everything.
Again.
9
AMELIA
The front doors of Dominion Hall swung inward before we even reached them.
An older man in a dark suit stood framed in the entryway, posture straight as a rifle. His hair was silver, neatly trimmed, and there was a faint, wry curve to his mouth that kept him from looking severe.
“Mr. Dane,” he said, giving Levi a small nod. “Welcome back.”
Back.
I filed that away.
“And Ms. Emerson.” His attention shifted to me, sharp but courteous. “We’re honored to have you at Dominion Hall.”
“You’ve got me at a disadvantage,” I said. “You know my name.”
He seemed faintly amused. “Teddy, ma’am. If you’ll come inside, Mr. Dane is expecting you.”
Which one? I didn’t ask.
But a prickle slid down my spine. How did he know we knew the last name?
Levi hadn’t said anything. I definitely hadn’t. And Teddy didn’t look like a man who made conversational guesses.
Either Dominion Hall was very good at collecting information—or they’d already connected far more dots than I had.
We stepped over the threshold into a foyer designed to make people feel poor.
Black-and-white marble spread out in a gleaming pattern beneath our feet. A chandelier big enough to bankrupt a small town dripped crystal and warm light from the ceiling. Portraits of unsmiling men and women lined the walls, oil-painted eyes following us as we crossed.
“Subtle,” I murmured.
Levi’s hand brushed my back for the briefest second, guiding me toward the center of the room. The touch was almost nothing, but my body still remembered every place his hands had been. Heat shot under my skin, annoying and inconvenient.
“Front parlor, Teddy?” Levi asked.
“Yes, sir.” Teddy gestured down a long corridor. “Mr. Dane is waiting. Delphine is sending coffee.”
The scent of something buttery and ridiculous—fresh pastry, maybe—drifted toward us. I ignored my stomach’s hopeful flutter and focused on the details: small cameras tucked into crown molding; a keypad beside a discreet door that suggested a basement level; the faint hum of climate control behind thick walls.
We passed an open space with floor-to-ceiling windows and a glass enclosure in the corner. A sleek black snake lay coiled on a branch, tongue flicking lazily.
“Obsidian,” Levi said quietly. “House mascot.”
Of course, they had a pet viper.
“Points for honesty,” I muttered. “Most people hide theirs.”
Teddy either didn’t hear me or was too professional to react. He stopped at the next set of double doors and opened one with a smooth, practiced motion.
“Mr. Dane,” he announced. “Mr. Levi Dane and Ms. Amelia Emerson.”
