I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. A chauffeur in a crisp suit, maybe. Something impersonal. Something that would let mepretend this was just another business arrangement and not the continuation of a nightmare with better tailoring.
The rear door opened smoothly as I neared, and just as I was ducking to get inside, I faltered, as it wasn’t empty like I hoped it would be.
Oblivion hadn’t just sent a car for me, he had…
Sent himself.
He sat back against the leather, one arm resting easily along the seat, looking infuriatingly at home as he turned his gaze toward me. Same composed calm. Same unreadable certainty. The suit, again, unfairly perfect and molded to his large frame like a very different armor. As if he’d been built for this tailored world just as much as the demonic one he ruled.
I hesitated for half a second too long.
Then I accepted the inevitable and slid into the seat opposite him.
The door closed with a soft, final click that made me flinch.
“You’re here,” I stated foolishly, and his mouth curved faintly, something close to amusement flickering there.
“I believe I informed you I would be sending a car.”
“Yes,” I replied, heat creeping into my cheeks despite myself.
“I just… just didn’t expect you to be in it,” I admitted.
“Much like you didn’t expect me to attend yesterday’s meeting,” he said smoothly.
I nodded, unsure of what else to say to this.
Silence settled between us, not the awkward kind but just heavy. My mind raced as the car pulled away from the curb and the city began to move past the window. I was acutely aware of how close he was, of the subtle pull of his presence, and of Bo’s voice in my head reminding me exactly what he was.
An Enforcer.
An immortal.
Someone who did not break rules for mortals.
“Ask your question, Eliza,” Oblivion said calmly, pulling me back to the small space between us.
“What?”
“Let’s not pretend you don’t have questions… many, I can imagine, but no doubt one in particular,” he replied.
My fingers curled nervously in my lap, as he was right. I had a million and one questions, but there was one that I kept circling back to. So, I took a calming breath and asked,
“Why me?”
He studied me for a moment, and I got the strange sense that he was genuinely pleased by the directness of it. That, or he just enjoyed knowing something I didn’t.
“I would have thought that obvious,” he said, that smirk making him look far too handsome.
“Damn. So, itisabout the club,” I huffed out a sigh.
“Tell me something, do you have so little faith in your ability that you believe I would manipulate an entire campaign for any other reason than picking the best candidate for the job?” he questioned, catching me off guard.
“I…”
“I selected you because it was clear the work was yours,” he said before continuing.
“Your ideas. Your vision. Your passion for them.”
