The Professional Page 9

  I went to my own room and tried to brush all thoughts of Cora from my mind. Just go to bed, Alex. Everything will be easier in the morning.

  Just then my own phone buzzed.

  * * *

  Screw surviving the week, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to survive tomorrow. It was two AM and Cora had long since gone to bed, but I was still far from shutting my eyes. She’d better not want to go running again in the morning.

  I opened the door into the empty bar, annoyed and exhausted. Saul was standing behind the bar, drinking.

  “This better be really fucking important,” I said.

  He slid me a glass in response. “It is. But first, how’s the job going?”

  I took a long swallow of the drink and considered the question. “I’m getting a bit distracted,” I said.

  Saul raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “The girl,” I confessed. “She’s…” I struggled to think of an adjective to summarize Cora and found the English language lacking. Luckily, Saul could read it on my face.

  “Uh oh,” he said. “You need to shut that down and quick. Nothing like emotions to completely fuck over a job.”

  “You were just telling me I needed to meet someone,” I pointed out.

  Saul blinked hard. He set his glass down on the bar. “Are you being serious right now, boy?”

  I nodded, trying hard not to look sheepish.

  Saul could barely contain his anger. “What I meant was meet someone at a bar! Not mess up the job of a lifetime over a girl you’ve just met. Do you know how many thieves would kill for the position you’re in right now?”

  “Like you?” I asked, annoyed that he was lecturing me on my own job and my own life.

  “Fuck yeah like me,” he said. His voice softened. “Listen, kid. The life stuff is important. I wasn’t lying then. But this is the Crown of Athea and it’s your fucking destiny to take it. Don’t let some girl you won’t remember in six months get in the way of that for you. Come on,” he said. “Have I ever led you wrong?”

  I chewed on my lip and considered his words. Finally I sighed. “I haven’t said I wasn’t going for it. I still am. Just that things are a little complicated.”

  “Then un-complicate them,” he said. “Fuck her if you have to. Get it out of your system. Then take the Crown and get the hell out of there.” He laughed and shook his head. “Come on, Alex. You’re a bum from Brooklyn. Even if you weren’t a criminal, that girl’s a literal princess. You can’t be more different.”

  His words hurt a little more than I wished, probably because I knew there was an element of truth to them. Fuck. I cleared my head, banishing thoughts of Cora. “Why did you call me here?”

  “Well, if you’ve decided you’re still in this,” he said, “Midas called again. Wants you to give him a ring, night or day.”

  “Shit,” I said. I grabbed the number Saul had already thrown on the bar and took it to the back.

  This time the phone only rung once, like he was waiting on the other end for my call.

  “Alex,” the computer growled.

  “Midas,” I said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Seems you have decided to take me up on my offer.”

  He knew I was in. That meant he was watching the place. Of course, I knew he’d figure it out sooner or later. It wasn’t like I was hiding being with Cora.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I’ve just gotten a nice bodyguard gig.”

  “I suppose with your betters stealing prizes out from under you, you’d have to get a regular job,” he said.

  His words made my blood boil. “Well, if you need any help getting into the manor,” I said, “don’t expect me to hold the door.”

  He laughed and the distortion made it evil in my ears. “Alex. You wouldn’t even know if you did.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Cora

  I woke to my phone ringing. It wasn’t even light outside yet so that meant it was Mother calling. I sat up and flipped on a light, shaking off the fog of sleep and checking the time. Five fifteen in the morning. Was she trying to piss me off? No, there was a lesson here and I already knew what it was: if you don’t want early calls make sure to answer your phone when I call. Of course, she’d called in the middle of the night, but who’s keeping track?

  Last night with Flynn, no, Alex, was a whirlwind. I’d been still awake when he’d left the servants’ quarters. I almost hadn’t heard him at all - for a man his size, he moved like a ghost - but I’d lived in this space for two years and even muted footsteps sounded out of place in the normally cavernous silence of the manor.

  I don’t really know why I decided to follow him. In fact, at first I didn’t. I stayed in my room, still fuming over his behavior on the run. He’d seemed so different and then, right when I was almost, almost, buying it, he flipped a switch and there was the old Flynn. The asshole.

  As time progressed with him not returning though, I became curious and went looking, hoping maybe I’d catch him trying to pocket a candlestick or some other old-timey decoration from the house.

  I used the secret passage, the main vein that ran through the house. There were multiple entrances and exits to it, some more apparent than others. It even ran up to the servants’ quarters, most likely, I suspected, so that the original owner could call a mistress down to his room without anyone noticing. There were a variety of peepholes along the passage to spy on the rooms and even where there were none, you could always listen in on others’ conversations. That, of course, was a double-edged sword; it was in the passage that I, at eleven, heard my father ask for a divorce.

  Anyway, I took the passage and searched the house for Flynn. I found him in the chapel and looking at him, without him knowing I was there, I saw a seriousness he didn’t let show around me. His face looked intense and focused, intelligent as he thought deeply about some issue on his mind. I wondered if he was religious, that he’d come down here to pray, and felt a little ashamed at spying on him, but he left without lingering too long.

  It was apparent he wasn’t going to be stealing anything and I felt embarrassed and a little creepy watching him from the walls. I was just heading back to my own room when I saw Scott strolling through the parlor, examining the pictures and running his fingers along objects as if to soak up some of their elegance.

  Flynn had noticed him too. He was frozen for a moment, deciding what he wanted to do, before escaping back into the chapel. I debated intervening, as Scott walked closer and closer to his hiding spot. Did I betray myself just to save him an awkward conversation with Scott? It wasn’t like he had his coat stuffed with stolen goods.

  At the last minute, I opened the passage and pulled him inside. As we stood there in silence, pressed against each other, his warm chest against my ear, breath coming slow and even, I was hypnotized. I didn’t want him to pull away, but eventually Scott left and we had to part. I did’t think I imagined a similar reluctance in him.

  He was back to the fun, charming guy I went on the run with, not the cynical asshole, I’d spent the day avoiding. I didn’t know if I could handle mood swings, but assuming this was the end of it, I think I could forgive him for that morning. That was why, when I saw my mother was calling last night, I hadn’t answered. It seemed I wanted Alex by my side a little longer.

  Unfortunately, ignoring my mother meant having to start the morning with a lovely conversation.

  “There’s a time difference, Mother,” I said, answering the phone on its tenth ring.

  “It’s hardly the middle of the night,” she said. She sounded busy, like she was doing something else while talking, like shaking hands or deciding fates.

  “Well, I’ve changed my mind on what I wanted to ask you,” I said, “so never mind.”

  “What are you talking about?” She sounded genuinely confused.

  “Did Colette not tell you I called?” I asked.

  “Oh, that’s right,” she said. “Yes, she d
id. But it sounds like you worked it out yourself.”

  I laid back in my bed and glared up at the ceiling. “I’m confused.”

  She clarified what I already should have guessed. “I need you to do something.”

  Of course, she wanted something and the fact that she was calling herself instead of making Colette do it meant that I was not going to be happy about it.

  “What is it?” I asked through gritted teeth, ready for the Band-Aid to be ripped off.

  “Humans magazine has been hounding me for months for an interview, but, of course, I’m much to busy for them.” Not too busy for an interview, too busy for them. Humans was a celebrity magazine that Mother considered beneath her.

  “What does this have to do with me?” I asked, already knowing in my heart, but not letting my brain accept it yet.

  “Well, I told them you would do it,” she said.

  “You what?” I asked. “Are you crazy? I don’t want to do a magazine interview!”

  “Oh pish posh, Cora. You go, you act friendly. They ask you what your favorite color is and where you like to eat in Manhattan. It’s hardly groundbreaking journalism. You don’t need to dress up or study or worry. In fact, avoid politics or really anything controversial. This is to raise excitement for our visit, not challenge anybody mentally.”

  I thought about my options. “And what if I said I really, really would rather not do this?” I asked.

  Mother was quiet on the other line. Then she said, “Then I would say that I really, really miss you and would rather you come home with us for the rest of the summer.”

  I winced, but she continued. “In fact, if you come home for the summer, I might realize just how much I enjoy having you home and would so much rather you stay in Athea than ever go back to New York.”

  “You can’t make me drop out of school,” I said, aghast she would even suggest something so monstrous over a freaking magazine interview.

  The playful tone dropped from her voice and suddenly I wasn’t talking to Mother, but to Sarina Harmont, politician and princess very much used to getting her way. “Listen very carefully, Cora. This is an important visit for our family. Way more important than you even realize. Disruption and disagreement will not be tolerated. Just do what I say, paste a smile on your face, and in a month you can go back to living your spoiled life in America. Do anything, and I mean anything, to jeopardize my plans and you’ll be coming home and never going back.”

  This request didn’t really matter to my mother. What it was about was setting a precedence for the rest of the visit. Jump when I say jump and watch yourself because I control every aspect of your life. I had no options and it was stupid to ever wonder if I did. The stress of the upcoming visit was apparently taking its toll on my already high-strung mother, and I really didn’t want to sacrifice my life in the city just to make some stupid point. I was a politician’s daughter after all. I knew how to pick my battles.

  “Avoid politics, you say?” I muttered.

  “Be at their office at ten thirty and keep it light and breezy,” she said. “Now I have a lot to do and unless the house is literally falling down around you, I’d appreciate you not bothering me or Colette.” She hung up before I could say anything.

  I groaned aloud. My mother being a complete bitch wasn’t new information. Her outburst over the phone wasn’t something I hadn’t gotten used to in my teen years. It was the thought of a bullshit celebrity interview that made me cringe. That shit was going to stay on the Internet forever and when anyone searched my name for the next five years or until I did anything noteworthy, that was going to pop up. And I couldn’t derail it either for fear of my mother’s vengeance crashing down like the hammer of Thor.

  In short, I was fucked.

  I went back to bed and didn’t wake up until eight. I didn’t know what had woken me at first, but then I inhaled and smelled a delicious scent coming from the kitchen.

  I got up and dressed quickly, walking out to find Alex cooking eggs. He was dressed in jeans and a tight, black t-shirt over which was my pink apron. I tried to suppress a laugh. He started and turned, grinning sheepishly.

  “I’m a bit of a messy cook,” he explained, indicating the apron.

  “Is that so?” I asked, sitting at the table. “I didn’t peg you for a cook. More of a Chinese take out and truck tacos kind of guy.”

  “Occasionally, if I’m working a lot,” he said, setting a plate in front of me and taking a seat across. “But in my downtime? I like to be involved with my food. And I’ll be honest, I’m a little tired of eating cold pizza.”

  “You’ve been eating my pizza?” I demanded. “I really shouldn’t have to label my food. We aren’t roommates.”

  “Exactly.” He took a bite and smirked as he chewed. “As an employee of House Harmont, I’m entitled to meals. It’s in my contract.”

  I took a bite of my own eggs and tried not to show just how good they were. “Oh really? And what else is in your contract?”

  “I believe there was something in there about back massages…”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, take that up with my mother. She’s the one who signed the damn thing.”

  He laughed. “Actually I think it was Jackie. I saw her last night too,” he said.

  “Really? Jackie’s lurking the halls?” I shuddered. “That’s almost as creepy as Scott.”

  “Tell me about it.” He paused. “Thanks again for the save,” he said. “I really did not want to explain why I was walking around at one in the morning.”

  “And why were you again?” I pointed my fork at him. “Don’t tell me you were lurking with the rest of them.”

  He laughed softly. “No, just couldn’t sleep. I was checking the place out.” He sat back in his chair. “It’s a nice house.”

  That was an understatement. “Too nice,” I muttered. “But yeah, it’s not bad in and of itself. Probably should be torn down and something useful put up.”

  He shrugged, stood up, and walked to the window, looking down at the street. “I don’t know. I know you grew up here, but most people would love to get a glimpse of the place. There’s a lot of history here. Maybe it should be a museum.”

  I groaned. “Don’t give my mother that idea. She’ll be charging tourists to explore downstairs while I hide away in the attic like a shunned step-child.”

  He chuckled at the thought. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  I finished my plate and took mine and his to the sink, washing them of cheese and egg. “We’ve got to go somewhere today,” I said. “Somewhere you can’t be falling asleep on the floor.”

  He turned at the window. “I think you underestimate my ability to nod off anywhere, anytime.” His handsome face fell into mock severity at the glance I gave him. “But I vow to drink plenty of coffee. Where to?”

  “You ever read Humans?” I asked.

  His nose crinkled and I almost swooned. Pull it together, Cora.

  “The magazine with the celebrity weight-loss diets?” he asked.

  “Hey,” I said, “there’s also some pretty serious journalism in there.”

  “Really?”

  “No. But I have to give an interview with them today, so I’m just going to tell myself that until it’s over and I can pretend it never happened.”

  He leaned against the window and studied me. “I didn’t take you for the interviewing type.”

  “I’m not,” I said flatly. “But I guess it’s good press for the family’s visit and also I don’t have a choice. Mother’s making me.”

  He considered this and asked, “No way to say no?”

  I shook my head. “It’s an unfortunate necessity.” I checked my watch. “And I have to be there at ten so get your suit on.”

  He nodded and left into the bedroom, leaving me to put the dishes in the cabinet. Making breakfast? Pleasant conversation? Was this an apology for the outburst in the park yesterday or a “thank you” for me saving him? A bit of both maybe? Either way Alex Flynn
cooking in my kitchen wasn’t an unwelcome sight. I pictured him in the pink apron and then again with it on and nothing else. I suppressed a shiver.

  Keep it together, I repeated to myself. I had to mentally prepare myself for this interview. Thoughts of Alex naked would have to wait.

  * * *

  I sat in an empty conference room in the Humans’ office in Midtown and dreaded the next hour.

  They’d sent an intern to greet me in the lobby. She’d blinked at Alex, probably wondering if he was a model and we just happened to be walking in together. Once it became clear that he was with me, she kept sneaking sideways glances at him on our way up to the office. Her obvious interest annoyed me way more than it should have, but it was a welcome distraction from how uncomfortable I felt.

  They’d given Alex the option to wait on a couch in the main office. He’d looked at me questioningly and I nodded. He didn’t need to be in the room with me, mostly because I didn’t want him hearing the answers I was going to have to give. It was embarrassing enough to even be there.

  I’d never given an interview before, but, in the past, when I’d pictured my first one, I’d assumed it would be for my humanitarianism and not be a side piece in “Blake Shelton’s issue”. On the way over, I’d wondered if I’d be asked any questions about my degree or my time spent in India. I knew to stay non-political and breezy, but I hoped that maybe I’d be able to show the readers of Humans that I wasn’t just a brainless air-head.

  As it turned out, even that was too much to hope for.

  The journalist didn’t keep me waiting long. She was young, late twenties, and spoke with a volume normally reserved for nightclubs and the deaf. She wore a pantsuit and bright pink lipstick that was applied in great swooping strokes and was oh so, so happy to meet me and wasn’t it great that my family was coming and she hoped I wasn’t waiting too long and on and on and on. At one point I wondered if the interview had already started and she was trying to confuse me into a state of vulnerability.

  Then she finally opened up her laptop, placed a recording device on the table, and became serious.