I pulled into the private lot behind my renovated industrial building in what had once been the city's garment district. The three-story structure stood apart from its neighbors, its sleek glass and steel facade a stark contrast to the weathered brick buildings surrounding it.
"This is yours?" she asked, peering through the windshield at the building's imposing silhouette.
"All of it," I confirmed, a hint of pride slipping into my voice. This place was mine in a way nothing had been during my centuries of servitude. Every inch of it represented freedom.
I escorted her through the private entrance, my hand returning to the small of her back as we stepped into the elevator. The doors opened directly onto the main workroom, a vast open space with floor-to-ceiling windows and exposed industrial beams overhead.
The afternoon light poured in, illuminating cutting tables where assistants worked, sewing stations where both humans and monsters operated machines with ease, and dress forms of various shapes and sizes, some with accommodations for wings, tails, or multiple limbs. Conversations hushed momentarily as we entered, all eyes turning toward us. I felt Jade tense slightly beside me, but she lifted her chin with quiet confidence. My staff quickly returned to their tasks, though not without curious glances.
"Mr. Magnur," my floor manager approached, a tall, elegant woman with silver-streaked hair. "The Orpheus Club pieces are ready for final inspection." Her eyes slid to Jade with professional discretion, her expression revealing nothing more than polite interest.
"Thank you, Helen," I replied. "This is Jade, my mate."
Helen's eyes widened slightly but she recovered quickly. "Of course. Welcome, Jade. Feel free to look around while Mr. Magnur handles the inspection."
Jade smiled. "Thank you. I've been dying to see where he works."
Several nearby staff members exchanged glances. I rarely discussed my personal life, and many had likely assumed I didn't have one.
"I need to check the pieces," I told her softly. "Will you be alright exploring for a few minutes?"
"Absolutely." She squeezed my arm reassuringly. "Go do your thing. I'm just going to snoop through all your designer secrets."
My lips twitched. "Try not to bankrupt me by giving away trade secrets."
She made a show of zipping her lips, then wandered toward a nearby table where an assistant was draping midnight blue fabric over a mannequin. I watched her for a moment, struck by how naturally she moved through the space, curious but respectful, running her fingers lightly over fabrics with genuine appreciation.
Helen cleared her throat softly, reminding me of my responsibilities. I followed her to the quality control area, where the Orpheus Club pieces waited on specialized forms. The collection was among my more risqué work—custom lingerie and performance wear for an exclusive sex club owned by an old acquaintance. Each piece had been designed with specific performers in mind, accounting for their unique anatomies and the demands of their acts.
As I worked, I kept part of my awareness fixed on Jade's location in the room. Her laughter drifted over at one point, followed by the deeper chuckle of Oren, my fabric specialist. The sound soothed something in my chest, even as my hands continued their careful assessment of straps and buckles.
"You went to see the Moirai after all?" Helen asked quietly.
I paused, glancing up to see her watching me with knowing eyes. Helen had been with me since the beginning, one of the fewhumans who knew what I truly was. She had watched me build this business from nothing, had seen the scars I usually kept hidden, had never once flinched from my more demonic features when they slipped through my control.
"Yes," I answered simply.
She nodded, satisfaction crossing her features. "Good. It's about time."
I watched as Oren guided Jade through the dyeing process, her face alight with fascination as he demonstrated how certain fabrics took color differently. Her hands hovered over the vat of deep purple dye, careful not to touch but clearly itching to try it herself. She was thoroughly engrossed, surrounded by three of my most talkative employees who seemed equally fascinated by her. This was my chance. With a quick nod to Helen that she understood immediately, I slipped away toward the private staircase that led to my office. I closed the door behind me, the sounds from the workroom immediately muffling.
I moved to my desk and pulled out my phone, selecting a contact labeled only as "Watcher." It rang twice before a crisp voice answered.
"Magnur. Unusual to hear from you directly."
"I need information," I said. "Priority level: immediate."
"Subject?"
"Human male. Trevor..." I realized I didn't know his last name and swore silently. "First name Trevor, approximately thirty to thirty-five years old. Former romantic partner of a woman named Jade Michaels." I provided Jade's address, the little information I had gleaned from our conversations, and a concise summary of the stalking behavior.
"Timeline?" the voice asked.
"Yesterday," I replied, my knuckles whitening where I gripped the edge of my desk. "I want current address, employment, financial status, criminal record, particularly any history ofviolence or harassment. And surveillance. I want to know where he is at all times."
"Understood." No questions. This was why I used the Watcher's services—absolute discretion. "Initial report within the hour. Full background by morning."
"Send a current photo as soon as you have one."
