I’d been a test subject for long enough.
So I kept my secrets to myself and became a grieving widow in public. It kept Father from pushing me to remarry—which I would never do—and covered some of my new eccentricities.
I attended teas and lunches and balls when I would’ve preferred staying home. But staying home would not let me find other young women who could use my help, so I sucked it up and played the idle aristocrat.
At home, I earned my keep by using my network to track down information for House von Hasenberg. Father didn’t know exactly where my information came from, but he knew that if he needed something found, I could find it.
I finished my lemonade and pretended my head didn’t feel like it was being stabbed with stilettos. The headaches were worse when I was in an open public space, as my piddly human brain couldn’t keep up with all of the information flowing to the implant from my modified nanos.
My com lit up in my mind’s eye a second before it vibrated in my handbag. Because I was attuned to it, I knew I’d received a message and what it said without looking at the device itself. Decoding transmissions, even the secure transmissions my com received, was almost comically easy. Whatever else Gregory had been, he truly had been a gifted scientist.
I’d taught myself to tune out most transmissions so they became ignorable background noise. It didn’t help with the headaches, but at least I didn’t have to constantly hear strangers’ messages in my head all day. Now they burbled along like a distant stream in the back of my mind. I could hear individual messages if I focused, but mostly they were white noise.
I was Gregory’s fantasy of an ideal wife, forced to listen to everything without being able to respond. I didn’t know if he’d planned to add transmission abilities later or if he’d designed it this way as a cosmic joke. If it was the latter, the joke was very much on him. I smiled in grim satisfaction.
I pulled out my com to read and respond the old-fashioned way. The message was from Ian. It was short and to the point. You were scheduled to return home, not split from your sister. The security detail followed her. Remain where you are until the replacement detail arrives. I have eyes on you until then.
My smile morphed into a grin as I typed my reply. I was just leaving. I’ll be home before they arrive.
STAY PUT. The reply was so fast, I wondered if he had pretyped it. I’d hate to think I was so predictable.
I didn’t bother with a reply. If he was actually monitoring the cameras, he’d see me leave. Otherwise, he’d certainly notice when my tracker started moving. Either way, I wasn’t going to sit around for who knew how long waiting for his security team. My head ached at just the thought.
The coffee shop was close enough that I could walk home, but that was sure to make Ian apoplectic. And while I didn’t really think Serenity was unsafe, we were at war and some basic safety precautions were prudent.
I ordered a House transport and waited until it arrived before leaving the building. I didn’t see Ian’s second security detail, so he was sure to be livid. I resisted the urge to tap into our House security cameras to see for myself.
The transport dropped me at the private family entrance without incident. I cleared the new security checkpoint then waved my embedded identity chip over the reader at the door. The reader beeped as it verified that my chip and biometrics matched. The door opened, and I let myself into the ornately carved stone building I’d called home for twenty-one of my twenty-five years.
The heavy stone blocked some of the wireless signals, and I sighed in relief. I stepped out of the entryway and a shadow detached itself from the draperies.
I had a blaster in hand before my brain recognized that I wasn’t being attacked by a stranger. No, I was being stalked by Ian Bishop.
I wasn’t sure that was an improvement.
Chapter 2
“Lady von Hasenberg,” Ian said in his precise, clipped accent. Fury etched lines in his handsome face, but his deep voice still slid over my skin like cashmere. “A moment, please.”
I’d kept my name during my marriage, one of the benefits of being the daughter of a High House. Instead, Gregory had changed his last name to gain the power of mine. That power felt very flimsy with Ian glaring down at me.
Ian Bishop was tall and lean, with broad shoulders that narrowed to a trim waist. He wore a charcoal three-piece suit with a pale blue shirt and matching tie. I’d never seen him in anything other than a suit or tuxedo, but my imagination was more than willing to try. I’d bet a good deal of money that vast expanses of delicious muscle hid under the layers of fabric.
He was devilishly handsome, with a strong jaw and icy blue eyes. His hair was dark blond, shorter on the sides and longer on top. It was continually tousled, making a woman imagine running her fingers through it to smooth it.
Or maybe that was just me.
I pulled my tattered public persona around me as I returned my blaster to the clutch holster. At a meter sixty-eight, I was the shortest member of my family by far. I made up for it by wearing towering heels. But even with the added height, Ian still topped me by at least ten centimeters.
While I’d never quite mastered Mother’s trick of looking down on everyone regardless of height, I also refused to let him believe that he could look down on me, so I met his gaze head-on. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then, by all appearances, his was a lonely, desolate place. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ian Bishop was more than met the eye.
“Director Bishop, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, all false innocence.
A muscle flexed in his jaw and I could practically see him counting to ten in his head. “You ignored a direct order and put yourself in danger,” he said at last.
“No, I ignored a direct suggestion and arrived home unscathed.” I smiled sweetly. “Was there anything else?”
“Am I the director of security for House von Hasenberg?” Ian asked.
I nodded obligingly.
“And are you part of House von Hasenberg?”
“Last I checked,” I said drily.
“So therefore, when I make a suggestion concerning your safety, you would be well-advised to follow it,” he bit out. “I know it is difficult for you to drag your mind away from gossip and parties long enough to pay attention, but I don’t make suggestions for my own health; I do it to keep you safe.”
I stiffened and a fleeting expression crossed his face, too fast to identify. My training solidified around me like armor, distancing me from the fury blazing through my system. If he was cold, then I was ice.
I tilted up my chin. “If your security plan is so fragile that a single change causes it to crumble, that is not my failure.” He started to reply, but I cut him off. “Director Bishop, this has been delightful, as usual, but now I must go. So many parties to think about, you know.”
It was a mistake to let him know that he’d gotten to me, but I couldn’t stop myself. I swept away, the only sign of my anger the staccato beat of my heels against the marble floor.
Anger carried me to my suite before burning out. Ian Bishop wasn’t worth the headache. He’d made it abundantly clear that he was not interested years ago. I still cringed when I thought back to my awkward attempts to flirt with him when he had first arrived as a mere bodyguard.