* * *
Claudia risesfrom her seat when I enter Nero’s office. She’s dressed in a shimmering cocktail dress with a plunging neck, her tits spilling out the sides in a way that dries the saliva on my tongue. She so damn fine, I can’t believe she belongs to me.
She touches a hand to her hair, which has been swept up into an elegant bun. I’m guessing she showed up in this dress to make a point. I’m not sure what point it is exactly, but I know she wouldn’t go to this effort for Constantine. Already she understands the difference between the two Imperators – she chooses the sides of herself she allows them to see.
“We usually conduct these meetings in complete solitude,” Nero tells her as he hands her a glass of Dom Perignon. I search his features for signs of the rage Livvie says he’s feeling right now, but I don’t see it. He’s as cool as ever. I don’t know how anyone can comprehend the guy, but Claudia says Julian taught her how to read Nero like a book.
“I have no secrets from Eli. He stays.”
“As you wish.” Nero eases himself into his expansive leather chair. I notice he doesn’t offer me a drink. “I’m not in the mood for small talk. You have my property.”
“If you mean I have fifty-three malnourished women you intended to turn into sex slaves, then yes.” Her eyes flash. “I have your property.”
“I paid for that shipment in good faith.” Nero taps his finger to his chin. It’s a gesture I associate with Howard Malloy, and seeing Nero do it makes my chest ache. “Surely you don’t mean to begin our alliance on such a sour note.”
Claudia reaches under her chair and pulls out a briefcase, which she drops on his desk. “Your deposit is inside. All the money you paid to Brutus for those women. We’re even now.”
“We’re far from even.”
“My father never dealt in skin, and Brutus only agreed to this trade because he needed your protection. I have no such need. Surely you don’t believe I’d allow this on my turf.”
“Times have changed, my dear.” Nero tsks. “Your father had old-fashioned ideas about the business, and he died for those ideals. I don’t choose to draw lines in the sand. I like my options gloriously wide open. If you find what we do unsavory, may I suggest another line of business?”
“May I suggest you find alternative entertainment for your party? These girls are no longer for sale. And speaking of items being off the market…” She tosses Gabriel’s money sack onto the desk. “This is the debt Madeline Drysdale owes you. She’s now under my protection. If you bother her again, I’ll consider it a direct threat to the August family.”
“Such a fuss over a high school teacher.” Nero’s smile stretches at the edges. “You risk making an enemy of me. And so close to our wedding night. If I think you’re playing me, woman, I won’t be gentle.”
I shove my chair back, but Claudia holds up a hand to stop me. I want to wrap my fingers around Nero’s throat and squeeze the insolence out of him, but it’s important Claudia is the one in control. I sit back down. The thumb-drive digs into my thigh.
“I’ll tell you what’s happening, Nero. Our shipping lines are open to you should you wish to import or export any drug you could imagine. I have the North American antiquities market in America wrapped around my pinkie finger. If you want weapons or gold bullion or diamonds or faux Prada fucking purses, I’m your girl. But the August family does not deal in skin. What’s more, we won’t tolerate it in this city. This is the twenty-first fucking century – there are plenty of women who enjoy the company of clients such as yours, women who will happily dish out the humiliation and degradation they so deserve. This is the only warning I’ll give you – stay in your lane, or I’ll be forced to call on myotherfiancé.”
Nero leans forward. “What arrangement do you have with Dio?”
Claudia crosses her elegant legs, dangling her Champagne glass from her long fingers as she gives an indulgent smile. “My business with Constantine is my own.”
Nero does not like this, but he seems to decide to put it aside for now. He adopts a businesslike tone, as though her answers are of no consequence to him. “Well then, on your head be it. As a matter of interest, what are you doing with my shipment? You’ve got fifty-three illegals on your hands. That’s going to be an annoyance.”
“It’s not your shipment, so what I do with them is not your concern.”
“Indeed. Well, I must get back to work.” He stands and smooths his lapels. “I hope you understand that we’re busy with plans for our NYE party. I’ve sent your invite to Antony. I can’t wait to have you on my arm all evening. Perhaps you will wear this dress. Perhaps I’ll give you a taste of what our married life will be like. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby girl?”
Nero’s insults are so laughably childish, I expect Claudia to quip back with an insult of her own. Instead, she reaches across the table and slaps him across the cheek. The sound of her palm hitting his flabby skin echoes through his vast office. When Claudia draws back, I see her face is pale and her arm trembles.
“If you survive to see the New Year, it will be at my pleasure,” she hisses. She turns on her heel and storms out. I run after her, Nero’s hyena laugh baying at my heels.
As soon as we’re outside on the street, Claudia sways on her feet. “Eli…”
“I’ve got you.” I fold my arms around her. Her shoulders tremble. I don’t know what’s brought this on, but whoever’s responsible dies tonight.
Nero. Nero dies tonight. But when I think back over what he said, I can’t think of anything that would freak Claudia out like this.
I fold her into the Porsche. She slumps against the door, her hand pressed up against the spot where the bullet entered her. Her ice eyes fix on a spot on the horizon, and she retreats into herself, trapped in some dark place in her mind where I can’t follow. I slide in behind the wheel and drive like the wind away from the Vault, away from Nero and the Triumvirate and this cursed city.
The ranch has been tainted by the blood we spilled there, but it’s still the most private place I know.
We drive in a tense, stilted silence that makes me want to punch things. By the time I drive through those familiar ruined gates, I’m a mess trying to figure out what’s wrong and how I can fix it. I bundle Claudia out of the car and sit her on the porch swing, my jacket over her shoulders. I throw Noah a quick text, letting him know where we are and what happened, then I run inside to grab a stack of blankets, which I drape over us. One’s a little bloodstained from last time, but I don’t care.
Claudia rests her head against my shoulder. For the longest time, she doesn’t speak. It’s one of those crystal clear winter nights, with the Milky Way splashed overhead in all her magnificent glory. A shooting star streaks down to Earth. Claudia leans forward, watching it in silent rapture. It seems to give her the strength to speak.
