Илона Эндрюс - Emerald Blaze (Hidden Legacy)

“What happened today to make it bad?”

“She wants me to twist Albert Ravenscroft’s arm to find out if his family is involved in the attacks on my family. I balked and she threatened to hurt Nevada’s baby.”

Alessandro’s amber eyes turned dark. “She would injure her own great-grandchild?”

“According to her, he would be House Rogan’s grandchild. He’s nothing to her. Nevada is nothing to her. They have the same talent, but Nevada chose Connor. Victoria will never forgive her.”

He leaned closer, his gaze searching my face. “Why are you her favorite? Does she have something on you? Did you promise her something?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What did you promise?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Did it have something to do with me?”

He was too perceptive for his own good.

“What happened to you after you left?” Sometimes the best defense was a good offense.

Alessandro crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the open door. The sunlight filtered through the trees around us, painting glowing stripes on the pavement and the car. One stripe caught him and for a moment, before he shifted out of its way, he looked golden.

“I went to find my father’s killer. I was very full of myself then.”

“Was?”

“More than I am now.”

“How is that possible?”

He sighed, impossibly handsome. “I’m a miracle of nature.”

I raised my arms. “The defense rests its case, Your Honor.” My voice shook slightly. The last aftershocks of panic dying down.

He tilted his head. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’s the first question you’ve ducked since you came back.”

“You won’t tell me about the deal you made.”

Touché. I stepped out of the truck. He was in my way, and I had to brush by him. He raised his arm, blocking me. Our bodies connected. An electric spark of excitement dashed through me. I made a point of looking at his arm. He refused to move it. We stood way too close, the space between us so tense with expectation, if we closed the gap, we would explode.

“Where are you going?” His voice was low, intimate.

“Wherever I want.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Why do you want to know?”

This had to be the dumbest conversation ever. All of my brainpower was going into standing still and not raising my head to kiss him. He was barely touching me, but there was something hot and possessive in the way his fingers rested on my shoulder. I felt trapped, but there was no fear, only anticipation and lust, so much lust it was making my brain stutter.

He leaned half an inch closer, his eyes full of the orange fire that was his magic. This was the man who had stalked me through that MII hallway.

“Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there.”

This was a dangerous conversation. “I don’t need you to take me anywhere. I can drive myself.”

He smiled, a slow predatory curving of lips. “But I’m such a good driver. Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a ride?”

“Are we still talking about the car?”

“You tell me.”

I tilted my head up and smiled at him. My wings unfurled from my back, translucent and radiant, like glowing gossamer. Alessandro looked at me with a desperate, quiet hunger.

“I’m going to see Albert Ravenscroft.”

“That’s what I thought. I will come with you.”

“No. I have to do this alone.”

“Don’t be difficult, Catalina.”

“If the Abyss attacks me, I will take away his matrix node. I’ve done it once already.”

“I checked on Albert. He, his father, his mother, and his younger brother are all Prime psionics. I’m not letting you walk into that house without backup.”

“I can handle the Ravenscrofts.”

He pretended to think it over. “No.”

“You are not in charge of me. According to the contract you signed with Linus, I can order you to leave.”

He leaned forward and smiled a sharp, predatory grin. “Fuck the contract.”

Wow. It’s like that, huh?

“I’ll make a deal with you,” I told him. “If I move you out of my way, you’ll surrender the driver’s seat and I will drop you off when we get back to town. If I can’t, I’ll let you come with me.”

“Mmm . . .” He pondered it, his gaze on my eyes, my lips, my wings . . . “Sounds like a good deal.”

“Can I trust you, Alessandro?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t go back on your word?”

“I won’t.”

Got you. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

I put my right hand on his left wrist and ran my fingers up his arm to his shoulder, feeling the steel-hard muscle.

“Good start?” I asked.

His voice was rougher. “Excellent start.”

I stepped back, sliding my hand back to his wrist. He followed. A step, another. Enough room.

I grabbed his wrist, raised it, turned into him so my back was pressed against his side and chest, locked my other hand on his shoulder, and straightened my legs, throwing all of my weight into it. He was several inches taller than me, which gave me the perfect leverage. My arm became a lever, my back became a pivot point, and Alessandro flew over my head and landed on his back with a thud.

Stunned eyes stared at me. I crouched, kissed my fingertips, pressed them to his lips, and walked to the driver’s side.

He grinned and jumped to his feet without using his hands. “Good throw.”

Oh no. I popped the jaguar on the nose and now he was excited.

“Who taught you that move?”

“You don’t need to know. You just need to know that it works, and I have more. You lost. Get into your seat and be quiet. I’m driving.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I can find my way from here. I will see you tonight.”

“Suit yourself.”

He shut the door, and I drove off. He would be okay.

Albert Ravenscroft wouldn’t be.

Piney Point Village was my least favorite neighborhood. One of six independent villages in the Memorial Villages luxury bedroom community, it was officially the most expensive little town in Texas. The Wall Street Journal once called it the “(Multi) Millionaire’s Haven.” It was a place of old trees and old money, where ten-million-dollar estates perched among meticulous landscaping guarded by endless HOA restrictions.

I missed Alessandro.

The street ended in a cul-de-sac in front of a stone mansion, lit up by orange light. A couple of years ago, the house was a part of the Piney Point architectural tour and the pamphlet had described it as a chateau. The best French chateaux were solid stone structures under high-pitched roofs, carefully balanced to be graceful and stately. The monstrosity in front of me was anything but.

From where I sat, parked, I could see at least eight different roof lines, six chimneys, three different arches, a balcony with an eave that matched nothing, a single turret randomly mashed into a wall, a smaller servant’s entrance on one side under a cosmetic dormer, and a gated porte cochere, arched and decorated with quoins that weren’t anywhere else on the building. It was as if some drunken architects jammed chunks of different buildings into a bag, shook it, and let this ten-thousand-square-foot mutant fall out.

On second thought, it was good that Alessandro wasn’t with me. He grew up in Villa Sagredo, which started out as an ancient watchtower and became the center of a breathtaking mansion in the mid-Renaissance. Beautiful architecture was in his blood. This mess of a house would give him a seizure.

I stared at the mansion. The first time Albert approached me was at the Blue Bonnet charity event. I was there because Nevada had a conflict in her schedule and sent me in her place. Nobody knew who I was, and I was perfectly happy sitting at a nice table in the corner waiting for the opportunity to drop Nevada’s check into the basket at the end of the speeches. I sipped my mimosa, looked up, and there he was. He’d smiled at me and said, “Can I sit here? If I fall asleep, my family will never forgive me, and you are the only interesting person in the room.”