Her words sent a shiver down his spine he wasn’t all that great about hiding. “Why?”
“Because the Cascade Coven has demanded this meeting with Takoma regarding your transgressions near their coven’s ancestral property, and they have seemingly allied themselves with a rival Night Court. We are making a point by you being there tonight as a mage under Takoma’s control.”
“We both know that’s a lie.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Adler will not know that. Rufus certainly will not. Unless you want them to discover who your true employer is, you will do as you are told.”
It wasn’t all that different from the role he’d played in London, only Spencer didn’t have any backup this time, and there was a poltergeist on the loose that even Fatima was having a difficult time guiding back to the other side. All the piecemeal evidence kept pointing back to the Cascade Coven, to Caitlin in particular, and even if the money trail was getting cold, other avenues weren’t. Hunters wouldn’t be trying to kill him if that weren’t the case.
“You know, actual escorts get paid for this.”
“I’m sure my master will work something out with you.”
Please do not negotiate that within my vicinity, Fatima grumbled.
Spencer took the high road and ignored her. “Where’s this meeting being held?”
“Over dinner at a restaurant on the waterfront. It is neutral territory, as required by the city charter.”
“I didn’t think Takoma cared about stuff like that.”
“He does when it gets him what he wants, and right now, he wants to be in a better position politically than Adler.” Alyona turned her wrist to check the time on her delicate gold Patek watch. “We will be late if we do not leave right now. Your hair is atrocious, but we don’t have time to fix it.”
“Give me half a minute.”
Spencer spent exactly thirty seconds in front of the bathroom mirror using a little bit of gel to get his hair into a quick style that screamed night out on the town over corporate office. It got it out of his eyes, and Alyona seemed slightly mollified at his efforts.
Fully committed to the evening now, Spencer had no choice but to follow her out of the condo and back to the street, where the cold wind made him cross his arms over his chest and hunch his shoulders. A Rolls-Royce was parked out front, hazard lights on, the statement car being driven by another human servant. Spencer slid into the back seat with Alyona, finding a ridiculous crimson fur coat bundled on the middle seat between them.
“Please tell me that’s not my coat,” Spencer said as Fatima hopped onto his lap and immediately climbed over to settle on the fur coat. It was definitely not something he’d ever choose to wear if given the choice.
Alyona buckled herself in with one hand and tapped away at her phone with the other, ignoring his whining. “Your psychopomp isn’t on the guest list.”
“She’ll hide herself.”
Fatima nosed her way deeper into the fur coat and set about snoring her way through the drive to the waterfront. The sky was partly cloudy, but while it was cold, it wasn’t raining. It still made him glad for the heater going full blast because Fatima wasn’t giving up the borrowed fur coat for anything. Spencer absently settled his hand on her belly, stroking her fur as he watched the buildings go by.
The Rolls-Royce pulled up sometime later in front of the Four Seasons Hotel. Spencer didn’t even think the driver had yanked up the parking brake before the valet was opening the passenger-side door. By then, Fatima had disappeared, and Spencer had pulled on the fur coat, the material warm inside where she’d slept.
He squared his shoulders and got out of the car, settling into the persona he’d been thinking about on the ride over—arrogant and bratty when necessary. He schooled his expression into one of boredom, as if nothing mattered if the people he cared about weren’t with him. He didn’t miss the way the valet gave him a quick once-over, too well trained to let anything show on his face. The outfit Alyona had put Spencer in didn’t scream money; it screamed something else entirely, and he put a little swagger into his walk to go along with it.
Spencer saw the double takes the valet and doorman gave Alyona as she came toward him, looping her arm through his with a casual ease that had Spencer smirking at her as if they shared a secret. The looks were less about what she was wearing—which was classy, in his opinion—and more about the bite mark scars on her throat. They stood out in a way that spoke of a favoritism Spencer didn’t carry, but his excuse for not carrying them was the magic in his soul.
The doorman let them into the Four Seasons with a respectful little nod he was paid to give. Spencer ignored him, gaze scanning the sleek lobby, sight slipping sideways as he searched out any potential threats. Most of the souls were mundane human, no hint of magic, but there was one that stood out as a black void. When he blinked his sight back to normal, Alyona had already led him halfway across the lobby to where Haitao stood. Haitao was dressed more along the lines of Alyona’s outfit than Spencer’s, looking fashionable but still ready to kill. Spencer’s outfit definitely didn’t read that way.
“Takoma will be pleased,” Haitao said, gaze flicking up and down Spencer’s body.
“You know better than to doubt my work,” Alyona said with a sniff. She pulled away from Spencer and adjusted the strap of her designer purse on her shoulder, looking past Haitao. “Where is everyone?”
“The private dining room is open, but everyone else is out by the pool bar for the views and drinks, pretending they don’t want to murder each other.”
“And our master?”
Haitao smirked, jagged fangs pricking his bottom lip. “Waiting for his present. Hopefully, it puts him in a better mood.”
Spencer flipped the vampire off because he could, because he wanted to, and because that was the sort of persona he was supposed to embody tonight—someone with the power to back talk a vampire and leave with their throat intact.
Haitao spun on his heels and led the way past the front desk and the workers there who refused to look up from their screens. They knew a predator was in the vicinity, even if the guests in line didn’t. Spencer and Alyona followed Haitao through the grand hotel, taking the elevator up several floors to the dark wood-paneled exterior of the Horizon restaurant’s entrance. The hostess nervously greeted them before ushering them past a sign announcing the restaurant’s closure for a private event.
