A. Arthur: Temptation Rising

“He’s got to be the sexiest man alive,” Pam Winston, the fifth-floor receptionist, said with a sigh.

She hadn’t been at her desk when Kalina first entered the office, and with a tinge of dread Kalina picked up her pace as she approached the reception desk now.

“At the very least the sexiest in DC,” Pam continued.

“Yes, ma’am, I certainly agree.” This was Ava Jackson, the paralegal from the estates and trusts department, which was on the other side of the floor.

But just about every time Kalina went to the kitchen these ladies were conversing at the receptionist’s desk. She hated that she had to pass this area to get to the kitchen and her desired cup of coffee. Office gossip was another thing that made this particular assignment a headache. And just about every time she walked past these two they were talking about men. Today was no different.

“But he’s so angry all the time,” Ava was saying.

“I wouldn’t say angry, maybe just grouchy.” Pam contemplated for a second. “Still, he’s the boss, so he can afford to act any way he pleases. And he still looks good. You see him yet this morning?”

“Uh-huh. What’s he wearing today?” Ava asked with her contact-gray eyes growing larger.

“That navy-blue suit, the one with the stripes,” Pam said, picking up a piece of the mail she was supposed to be opening and then distributing, using it instead to fan herself.

“And the ice-blue tie over the crisp white shirt. Girl, I see him in that every night in my dreams. Love when he wears that suit. Absolutely love it!”

They both laughed loudly as Kalina proceeded to walk by, wishing she’d had simple dreams about a man instead of a cat. This job wasn’t permanent for her so making friends with the staff—these particular staff members—wasn’t a requirement. Still, she tried to be as cordial as possible, even though their incessant gossiping made her want to poke their eyes out. “Good morning, ladies,” she said with a smile that was as fake as the one each of the women was tossing her way.

Pam was a heavyset woman who paid a great deal of attention to her clothes, hair, nails, and makeup. Each day she was flawless, Kalina noted, everything matching right down to the fake tips on her fingernails. Today the color was orange, and it wouldn’t have been bad if it weren’t overdone, which was always the case with Pam. She twirled one jet-black curl between her fingers, orange rhinestone-encrusted nails clicking together as she did. “Good morning, Kalina.”

That shouldn’t have sounded snotty, but to Kalina’s well-trained ears it did. She ignored it and attempted to keep walking.

“So what do you think about him?” Ava, dressed in a white linen pantsuit with turquoise stilettos that were meant more for the stripper pole than the office, asked her.

“Excuse me?”

Pam expounded, “Since you’re new here, we were just wondering what you think about the boss.”

“Which one?” she asked absently, as if she hadn’t heard their previous conversation.

Ava nodded as if in agreement. “Mr. Delgado is fine, too. But we were talking about Mr. Reynolds.”

“I think they’re both fantastic lawyers.”

Pam’s peach-glossed lips turned up while Ava muttered, “Right. Okay.”

Kalina didn’t stand still long enough to hear the rest of the conversation, and she couldn’t care less what they thought of her because of it. Or what they thought of Roman Reynolds. He might be their boss, but he was her suspect. End of story.

Back at her desk with a steaming-hot cup of coffee in hand, she chided herself for thinking about the tall, dark-skinned man with midnight-colored eyes and football-player build. As her fingers moved over the keyboard, she ignored the clench between her thighs while she envisioned his semi-thick lips, strong arms, and big hands.

She’d done a lot of background investigating on Roman Reynolds, age thirty-five, single and sinfully sexy. He was a reputed recluse, one with a hefty bank account and hundreds of women vying for his attention. He was a successful litigation attorney who lived in the Forest Hills District and drove a sleek black Mercedes GL550 SUV.

Finally, though, he was her suspect, not her lover. No matter how much she fantasized otherwise.

There were some people who were born to suffer. Right or wrong didn’t matter much. Only the end result was important.

Roman Reynolds sighed, sitting in his high-backed leather office chair looking out the window to the streets of Washington, DC. He was wondering if this was where he was supposed to be.

It seemed he’d come so far in his thirty-five years of life. He’d been through so much and felt, deep within himself, that there was much more to come. More that he couldn’t predict but needed to stop. Responsibility weighed on his shoulders heavily, starting with the death of his parents and leading up to the prospect of even more death. It was up to him to do something, to protect the people he cared about, to make the madness stop. Rome didn’t take his responsibility lightly.

That was unfortunate for whoever made an enemy of him.

Work was his life, and his life was dedicated to the safety of his people. If he’d had a choice, the circumstances would be different. But he didn’t and so it just was.

“You wanted to see me?”

The voice snapping him out of his reverie was that of Dominick Delgado, his partner and best friend. Turning away from the window and looking up to see Nick peeking into his office, Rome nodded. “Come on in and lock the door.”

What they were about to discuss wasn’t law-firm business, and Rome didn’t want any of the staff accidentally walking in and overhearing them.

“What’s up?” Nick asked after walking confidently across the carpeted floor to take a seat in one of the guest chairs.

“Any more news about the attacks?”

Senator Mark Baines and his daughter had been murdered after leaving a fund-raiser three weeks ago. The bodies, found two days after they were reported missing, were mutilated. The report had made Rome uneasy and some of the other shifters suspicious.

“Rogues,” Nick said simply. “I checked with the other Faction Leaders and they’re reporting similar movement in their zones. They’re definitely making a move.”

Rome sighed. This news wasn’t shocking. But it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. They knew about the Rogues—every Faction Leader in every time zone knew about them. They were a group of shifters, defectors from every tribe, who instead of trying to live peacefully among the humans believed they were the superior species. They wanted money and power and had long since carried their rebellious movement against the Assembly and the tribes out of the forest.

“Do we have identification?”

Nick shrugged. “Supposition. Nothing definite. But it could be a problem.”

“It could be a big problem. Any thoughts on how to cut it off as soon as possible?”

“Find them and kill them,” Nick stated coldly.

“You make it sound so simple, killing people.”

His friend shrugged. “Self-preservation. That’s all it is. We need to either exist as one united front or not exist at all. I don’t know about you but I’m partial to waking up each morning and breathing freely.”

“It’s that serious.” It was a statement, not a question, because Rome knew that what his longtime friend was saying was absolutely true. “Our parents were putting things in place to deal with this. Maybe we should follow their lead.”

Nick’s parents were deceased, just like Rome’s. They’d died in a car crash about five years ago. Nick didn’t speak about it much and Rome understood why, so normally he didn’t bring it up. They both had dark pasts, secrets that were probably better left alone. But if dredging up some of that old business could help in the here and now, they had no choice.