The car pulls up to the steps of my family home. The hand-carved doors and pretty much everything in the home outside of my study were designed to my grandmother’s tastes. And yet, despite my disdain for the pomp and flash, this is still my safe place. The scent of old wood, the cool stone floors, and the sound of rain against the roof… it all grounds me. Today, though, is the first time I feel as though my safe place is about to become my prison. Maybe it’s a good thing Esmerelda went to lunch instead of coming for a tour before moving in.
Over and over, like a hamster on a wheel, I contemplate how life will be once she moves in. What is her agenda going to be when she arrives?
Will her presence destabilize the current state of business affairs?
Will clients trust that she won’t be involved in more raids?
What will our daily routine be?
Will we take our meals together?
Will there be opportunities for more wolf runs?
The last thought gives me pause. Why am I even thinking of running with Esmerelda again? Sure, it was fun, but Esmerelda will already be invading my space—I certainly don’t need to be causing scenarios that will have us in the same vicinity more than we have to be.
As soon as the car comes to a complete stop, I shove open the door and bullet up the steps and through the hand-carved doors. Taking the grandiose marble staircase two steps at a time, I all but stagger to my study like a man starved for oxygen. The air shifts as I cross the threshold. It’s warmer with the faint scent of leather, old paper, and polish. My fingers trail along the dark, gleaming wood of my desk. The grain is familiar beneath my touch, anchoring me in a way nothing else does. Exhaling heavily, I sink into my chair, and it greets me with a groan, louder than before, thanks to fewer wolf runs on the honeymoon than I’d have liked. As I take in the titles of the encyclopedias and apothecary journals, I glean comfort from the bound pages containing years and years of unrefuted science. There is solace in science. In facts. The world of ancient rituals, of obscure magic, of formulas and history—this is where I feel most at home. I open my laptop and sign into the cloud. The sooner I get back into routine, the better.
When Leonard walks in and takes his usual seat on the couch, I give him a cursory glance before looking back at theresearch on my screen. I’ve been at my desk for a solid two hours already, and despite being excited about my new project, I have accomplished absolutely nothing other than driving myself to the brink of insanity.
Leonard remains seated silently on the couch with his laptop balanced on his crossed legs, shooting me surreptitious glances every six seconds. It shouldn’t grate on my nerves, but it does. I can feel his unspoken questions bombarding me. He thinks he’s giving me space, not prying, but I know the inevitable is coming because of how introspective I’ve been since my arrival.
Exhausted, I rub my eyes. The honeymoon, although somewhat tolerable, should’ve been the moment when it all became real. Wait, scratch that, the wedding, as surreal as it was, should’ve been when reality sunk in. But as soon as the car pulled up in front of my ornate doors and I gazed at the place that used to be my sanctuary through the rain-sprayed car window, it all hit me with startling reality.
My life is no longer my own. And my haven will no longer be a place where I can withdraw into myself and work when my family’s politics get me down. Now, it will be a place where I have to be on guard against my wife. My enemy.
Sighing, I lean back in the chair and clear my throat, knowing it will get Leonard’s attention.
Leonard looks up expectantly. I almost feel bad for the look of enthusiasm on his face because he’ll be expecting a rundown, and that’s the last thing I’m going to do right now.
“How did the drop-off for the Dublin coven go?” My voice is sharp enough to slice through the quiet.
His brow furrows. I know he’s expecting me to go into detail about the honeymoon, and to be honest, I’m surprised by his control. Usually by now I would’ve been restrained and tortured until I’d given him all the details, but I’m not in the mood to sit in a fucking circle and braid each other’s hair.
I shoot him a look that says “Well?” and he places the laptop on the table and unfolds his legs.
“It went well. Obviously, or there would’ve been a bloodbath.”
“Good. Did we make sure they didn’t try to tip in cursed coin again?”
“Again, obviously, or you would’ve been told about it.”
I ignore his snide remark. I realize I’m micromanaging Leonard, who is the last person I need to manage at all, but I’ve struggled to hand over control this past week. I just need to know something in my life is going right and isn’t about to become a shit-show.
“And did you manage to look into expanding the client list to the Western Isles?”
He reaches for his coffee, which he must have got from Sebastian, and gulps it down before taking out his handkerchief and wiping his mouth.
“Dante is handling it. He has contacts with the O’Hares, who run the region. I’m meeting with him later this afternoon to hear of his progress.”
“Great. And what about the dragon clan in Marseille? Were you able to follow up about the new security escort needs?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Leonard raises his hands. “Catch your breath first. Everything is fine. You don’t need to follow up on every single piece of business in one go. First, tell me how your honeymoon was. Since you’re back in one piece, am I to assume it went well?”
I reorder the already perfectly ordered papers on my desk. “I’m not talking about it.”
“That good, huh?”
I cut a glare in his direction. “I said?—”
