Then I let the frantic need flitter away to the trash heap where it belonged.
“It’s Miss Le Spyre. Use it.”
His soft growl slipped between us, but I ignored the warning as I loaded strawberries and diced mango onto my plate.
“I didn’t expect you to come,” he said with a bite I knew was filtered excess from my order.
“To the tower or for lunch?”
When he didn’t reply, I gathered the answer to my question was both. A yearning belonging to Kyros struck me full force, and my wide eyes flew to his before I remembered myself.
This fucker didn’t get to yearn for me.
“There are things we must discuss,” he said low, stepping closer. “Will you join me for breakfast?”
The warmth of his body seeped into mine. “You expect me to sit with you? After what you did?”
I popped half a strawberry in my mouth, insides clenching as his gaze dropped to my lips.
His meadow-green gaze flared. “I’m not deluded enough to expect that. We must arrange the finer details of your changed contract with Live Right. It’s a business discussion, nothing more.”
Yeah, sure. “Oh, then I’ll figure things out with Angelica.”
His jaw clenched, and I popped another strawberry in my mouth, humming with pleasure as the sweet juice flooded my mouth.
Kyros lifted a hand and wrapped a strand of my butter-blonde hair around his forefinger. He could surely feel my loathing, just as he could feel the white-hot lust spearing me at his touch.
“Four days ago,” he said so softly I could barely hear. “Around this time. What happened?”
Four days ago, I’d cried hard enough and long enough to fill a lake. For a lot of reasons, but Kyros was definitely one of them.
His betrayal had pushed me over an edge I’d spent twelve years avoiding.
Tilting my chin, I closed the distance between us, resting my fingertips on his muscular chest. I let my gaze roam over his muscular frame, sliding my hands down to tug at the bottom of his charcoal waistcoat. Reaching up, I twitched the sleeves of his crisp white shirt into place and adjusted his perfect tie, my insides purring as his pure want rolled through me.
For a moment, just a calculated second, I allowed my yearning to rise too.
When his lips parted, I locked the longing away.
I patted his chest. “It could have been fun, Kyros. Such a shame you fucked it up.”
I heard several gasps from the audience studiously pretending not to listen.
As I turned away, Kyros whipped out an arm, capturing my hand. He drew me back, eyes dipping and scanning as though searching for something only he could see.
“How do I un-fuck it all up?” he eventually asked.
More gasps.
Hushed murmurs.
Shit, even I was shocked at the show of humility in front of his minions. Except Kyros firmly believed in the singing of our blood. Or whatever the fuck it was. Despite what he did and did not feel for me, the alpha viewed me as his true mate. The humility wasn’t for me—not because he loved me or was sorry. Kyros already believed I would be his and wished to know how most efficiently to get there.
Poor guy.
I wasn’t going to let him lose me. Not really. But the chase had to be believable.
Checking my watch, I murmured, “You don’t un-fuck anything, Kyros. We move on from here. It is so sweet of you to offer though.”
He blinked, and I slid my hand free.
Waving at the staring vampires, I said, “Have a good day, everyone. Go knock ’em dead.”
They redoubled their efforts not to openly eavesdrop.
That’s right, fuckers. Listen away. You’re playing my game now.
I’d returned as a spy in their midst—my grandmother’s spy. They had no idea what was about to hit them.
Vissimo would rue the day they entered Bluff City when I was done with them.
11
“Mr Trenington,” I said as the door opened. “My name is Basilia Tetley. How are you today?”
The face of the early-thirties man didn’t even twitch in welcome. He had the appearance of a long-distance runner who forced himself into corporate clothing during the week. “Are you a Jehovah?”
I pulled up short. “What’s a Jehovah?”
“A Jehovah’s witness.”
Oh. “No, not a Jehovah.”
His gaze sharpened. “What electricity company are you from?”
Lucky I knocked back a coffee after seeing Kyros. This guy was a live one. “Not from an electricity company either. Would you like another guess?”
“You’re from Live Right.”
I pulled a face. “Is it that obvious?” And was that the ranking? Jehovah, electricity company, and realtor?
He started to close the door. “Not this time. Usually I can peg them straightaway.”
You’re one of the smart ones.
“Yeah,” I said. “Pretty easy to spot. Usually.”
The door widened a crack. “You notice it too? Their eyes?”
“Hard to miss, isn’t it?” I dodged the question, scared I’d gurgle instead. “But you’re right. I’m here to discuss the possibility of Live Right purchasing your home.”
He seemed disappointed I wasn’t eager to swap conspiracy theories.
“Right.” Mr Trenington said. “I am looking to sell, but I won’t sell to Live Right or Foremost. They’re up to something. Aliens, perhaps. I won’t give them more power.”
I nearly whistled.
Wow, this guy had super good instincts. Shoving down the urge to pat him on the back, I instead answered, “Completely understandable, Mr Trenington. If you change your mind, here’s my card. I assure you, I’m not an alien.”
I’d had them printed myself, the number linking to my untapped phone that Daniel updated the firewall on yesterday. If Mr Trenington called this number, I wouldn’t be buying the house on behalf of Live Right.
“That’s what an alien would say.” He still took the card, gaze boring into my back as I left.
I strode down the grass driveway of the small abode in Purple, rattling off a text to my Churchill team.
54 Page Street. Mr Trenington. Values local business and transparency. Two days.
The phone chimed a second later. I read the text.
Received. Forwarded to Head of Sales for acquisition.
The team of ten sent a report each day with proposed properties to purchase based on the recent purchases of Foremost and Live Right. In addition, I employed four real estate agents who travelled to Bluff City from surrounding cities. They had a 75 percent success rate for acquisition—25 percent higher than Live Right.
I planned to kill two birds with one stone during my Live Right shifts. I wouldn’t lift a finger to acquire houses for Kyros. Maybe just one every so often to keep up the illusion. All other properties I visited were to gather intel for my team.
Doing it felt so fucking good.
But that wasn’t enough.
Years of forecasting reports in the hidden office had told me that if I didn’t expand my operations, then I’d never win this thing in my lifetime. Grandmother must have planned to accelerate acquisition—she’d mentioned finishing this before she passed, but there were no details of such plans. The Churchill team was on a need-to-know basis despite the confidentiality agreements—and the incriminating evidence I’d found for each of them in one of the filing cabinets in the secret office.