If I wasn’t increasingly wary of the lot of you I’d be impressed.’ ‘If there’s one thing I’m learning about the Order of the Kite, it’s how well they can keep secrets. ‘Ari chose not to call on me to spar with him this morning. Should she say that? She might have said it to the man. She felt as if she’d been skewered with a hot buttered sword, had begged for more and been given it. A flicker of something that might have been concern.
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‘For several reasons, not all of them concerning business.’ A crack appeared in his regal regard. He quirked a brow and returned her greeting and asked if she wanted some coffee. Some of the things they’d done last night.
Softer and more boyish and she’d looked her fill in case she never got to see it again.
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The long, dark lashes fanning delicately over the skin beneath his eyes. The tousled hair and the boneless weight of his body in her bed. Gone was his openness of last night and the defencelessness he’d exposed in his sleep. But she crossed the cold room and took a seat in the chair placed strategically on the opposite side of his gleaming black desk and tried not to fidget beneath his impenetrable black-eyed gaze.
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She still didn’t know how to deal with him. She’d left him sleeping soundly in her quarters because she hadn’t known how to deal with him after a night like the one they’d just shared. Sera didn’t know what to expect when she walked into Augustus’s office at exactly eleven a.m. But she’d never mentioned names, and if he was contemplating marriage to her-which, God help him, he was-he wanted no surprises. Sera’s mother had loved a man, an abusive man, and had a child by him. Even if he was deluding himself, he liked to think that his workload had an end-point. There was an end to that pile of papers, whereas digital news was never-ending. He could have read them on his computer just as easily, but there was something about the ritual of paper copies and the pile getting smaller as he worked his way through them that appealed to him. Daily reports sat waiting for him in a tidy pile, arranged in order of importance.
The first half hour of his day was always dedicated to reading. The room was cold, his sister was always complaining of it, but he found it stopped people from lingering overlong and the less they lingered, the more work he got done. His desk was big, black and imposing and his chair was fit for a king and significantly more comfortable. He went to his office and shut the door behind him, slapped the file down on his desk. ‘Another costume tour of the brothels? Circus arts for children? Tortoise races?’Īugustus allowed himself a smile. What do I have on at eleven? Can we clear some space for a meeting with Sera?’ I suspect it’d come as a shock to some of the people involved. ‘Is the information really that sensitive?’ He’d never read a hand-written report before. He dealt with classified information on a daily basis. ‘I live to serve.’ Augustus took the folder from the other man with a frown. Enough to send an old military-hero-turned-investigator into welcome retirement.’ You’ve paid handsomely for the information and that service, by the way. ‘Meaning no one’s ever going to find that information again unless they read the file you’re holding. The report is hand-written no digital copies exist and he cleaned up as he went.’ ‘My investigator judged the information to be of extreme sensitivity so he went old school, helped by the fact that he’s seventy years old and is old school. ‘The investigative report on Lady Sera’s mother arrived last night, hand-delivered.’ The older man handed him a file and Augustus took it. Instead of taking a quick morning shower, he’d lingered in that damned bathing pool of Sera’s, working the kinks out of his body and hoping she’d turn up. Granted, the man knew practically everything, but still.ĭid he have I lost my mind and my heart last night written on his forehead?Īugustus nodded. His secretary cleared his throat and Augustus spared him a glance and there was something off in the older man’s gaze-but how could he know? He stalked to the coffee corner in the outer office and poured a cup for himself in silence. He had a lunch date he couldn’t get out of. He’d left a similar note on the pillow requesting her company mid-morning.
A morning ritual for his courtesan of the High Reaches. There’d been a note on the pillow next to his head. Sleep had overtaken him at some point after that. They’d finally made it to her bed during the night. He’d woken alone in Sera’s quarters, with a breakfast tray beside him and a blanket draped over his nakedness. He carried her, wet and wanting, to an alcove filled with pillows and throw rugs and all manner of oils and unguents.ĪUGUSTUS STRODE INTO his office in a mood that ran blacker than usual.
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