I guess he doesn’t care to hide this time, she thought, stomach dropping. There was only one reason she could think of for the sudden change in his behavior, though she didn’t want to believe it.
Theodore had betrayed her.
Gods-fucking-damn you, Teddy. You meddling snitch!
“…appearances at the openings of any new ventures. We would be more than happy to discuss a collaboration with your vineyard as well.” Elio’s eyes gleamed. “I’m sure we could work out a lucrative joint venture.”
“That is reasonable,” she found herself replying, her voice cool and detached, as if she wasn’t on the brink of hyperventilating or, just as likely, smashing her mug of tea against the wall in frustration. Elio was not an elf she wanted to show weakness to. He was just as much a predator as the man knocking at her door.
He might even be worse. At least Viktor wouldn’t slit her throat for a perceived insult.
Ignoring her visitor, she folded her hands in her lap and continued, “And of course, should we move ahead with the negotiations, we can discuss a permanent living and custody arrangement. I will require at least a few months each year in Napa with any offspring Epifanio and I produce.”
Her stomach curdled at the thought, but Camille pushed past the feeling. The business deal style negotiation, the detached references to intimate relations, and the cool discussion of children with Elio’s son, an elf she’d never met, were all de rigueur.
Unions weren’t passionate things. They were necessary and lucrative business arrangements.
Elio was a shrewd man with a reputation for cold cruelty. His skin was a remarkably luminous teal, and though he was beginning to show signs of his advanced age, he was still a handsome man. She might have admired the clean cut of his features and silvery hair if he didn’t look like he wanted to squash her like a bug.
He was an elf of her grandfather’s generation — haughty, bloodthirsty, and cold. In any other situation, she would have happily gone the rest of her life avoiding him, but she was smart enough to know that a union with his son would benefit the Solbournes immensely. The two families were not exactly enemies, but they weren’t allies, either. If she could bring another powerful voting block into the fold, it was a chance she would have to take.
Elio sat in a glass-walled office. The sun had not even begun to set, so she could make out the glittering skyline of Las Vegas over his shoulders. No doubt he was on the top floor of The Luz, his family’s casino and the center of their empire. It was one of the finest luxury resorts in the world.
The Luz family was not old or particularly powerful. They had only earned their seat amongst the Families a generation ago. That meant they were hungry for clout, for legitimacy. Seeing the cold, greedy look in Elio’s eyes, Cammie had the uncomfortable realization that she wasn’t entirely sure just how far the Luz’s were willing to go to get it.
“That will be discussed and put into the contract,” Elio replied, no hint of uncertainty in his lined face. As if she’d already made the choice, despite the fact that this was just a preliminary meeting. Nothing would be decided until she met Epifanio face to face. And nothing would be official without Theodore’s blessing.
Elio raised a hand and flicked his claws, covered in matte black caps, in a dismissive gesture. “My son will require you to be flexible with your schedule. He is an exacting man, but you are used to the Solbournes, so perhaps you will find his structure a nice change of pace from the chaos of your household.” A small, chilly smile curled the corners of his lips. “When can we expect you?”
Another knock, more insistent this time. Not knuckles tapping, but the meat of a fist hitting the door in a blatant demand. Her proximity alarm chimed again.
Something about Elio’s presumption, the way he looked at her through the camera, raised her hackles. This time, Camille didn’t just feel her heart jump in her chest. She felt the prickle of dread under every inch of her skin. It wasn’t the same as seeing the future, but her intuition was very rarely wrong.
The beast that lived in her recognized a threat from the one in him. In that moment, she decided that the coyote at her door was the lesser of two evils.
“I apologize, Mr. Luz, but it seems I have an unexpected visitor. I’m going to have to cut this meeting short.” She smiled, but it was a reserved, tight-lipped thing that gave nothing away. “I will get back to you with my schedule. Please give Epifanio my regards. Have a lovely evening.”
She saw him open his mouth, his silver brows turning down in a flash of raw elvish annoyance, but her finger was already on the controller sitting beside her on the couch. Elio Luz and his avaricious gaze disappeared from the feed screen in an instant.
Camille stood up from the couch in one fluid movement and raked her ungloved claws through her hair. Without intending to, she oriented her body toward the entryway, where she knew — she knew — Viktor stood.
Her heart beat fast and unevenly in her chest. Her skin felt hot, prickly. Even though she knew it was impossible, she thought she could smell him: salt and soap and the wild, musky scent of animal fur.
Of course, she knew that he had been close enough to leave things at her door, but she didn’t actually consider what she would do if he demanded to speak with her.
There was nothing she could do. It wasn’t like opening the door was an option. Neither was ignoring him. He had to know she was in the apartment or he would have given up already.
Not that coyotes — or shifters in general — were known for their lack of tenacity. They were famously stubborn. When they wanted something, they were dogged in their pursuit of that thing. They were cunning, too.
Shifters were coaxers, ambush predators. They used any means necessary to get what they wanted.
They were quite unlike elves, who simply took. No games. No obfuscation. When an elf felt the pull to a consort, they didn’t suffer long courtships or dance around their intended. They acted.
As Camille had acted all those years ago, when he told her he didn’t want her.
A bolt of anger shook her out of her panic. It streaked through her, hot and bright and biting. The beast in her snarled, claws flexing. It wanted to sink its fangs into him and shake. It wanted to make him hurt as he made her hurt, even now.
Who was he to demand her attention? Who was he to invade her space? Viktor Hamilton did not belong anywhere near her, let alone on her stoop.
Throwing open the door to the hallway, Cammie charged toward the entryway on bare feet.
The knocking stopped as soon as she stepped into the entryway. He must have heard her with those sharp shifter ears. Good, she thought, storming up to the door. That means he’ll have no trouble hearing me through the door.
There was no way in Glory’s radiant name she was going to open up that door and expose herself to the pheromones or the beautiful face that would doom her, but that didn’t mean she had to keep quiet.
Standing a foot from the door, fingers curled into fists, she glared at the reinforced wood with every ounce of venom she possessed. “Go away!”
There was a scraping noise — the unmistakable sound of claws dragging down the door.
“Cam.”
Chapter Eight
Her heart stopped, started again, and then firmly lodged itself in her throat.