Change of Heart (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 3) Page 12

  Tapping the phone against my thigh, I searched for the bright side. “At least now I’ll have an espresso machine.”

  “About that…” Bishop dug a debit card out of his pocket. “There you go.”

  “What is it?” I accepted the card and frowned at my name on the front. “This isn’t my bank.”

  We all carried expense cards linked to the OPA, expenses—much like our salaries—paid by taxes on the paranormal citizens, but this logo was different from those too.

  “Here’s the thing.” Bishop settled into a ready stance that set alarm bells clanging in my head. “When Linus moved out, he told me to get the penthouse ready for the next potentate.”

  “I remember.” Linus offered his old suite to me that night, and I passed. “That doesn’t explain this.”

  “He took what he wanted and told me he didn’t care what I did with the rest.” He paused. “Have you been up since then?”

  “Without Linus there, I haven’t had a reason.”

  “You remember all those paintings and sculptures?”

  I’m sure my thoughts on them leaked onto my face. “Yes.”

  “Turns out his interior designer purchased them from up-and-coming local artists.”

  That sounded about right. The place had a classy but cold feel. It was glossy and perfect like a magazine. Linus lived there, had for years, but it was clear it wasn’t his home. Just a place where he slept.

  “You’re the one responsible for that paras-only silent auction.” Midas sat upright. “Mom bought a godawful red painting from it when she recognized the work as Leo Morgan’s. He’s one of our old ones. I respect that, but it’s literally a solid-red canvas.” He glared at Bishop. “It looks like blood spatter, smells like blood too. It cost her seventy-three thousand dollars. A dozen more paintings from other artists, and twice as many figurines and sculptures, were on the auction block that night. We’re lucky she stopped with one.”

  “Bishop,” I said calmly. “Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

  “The apartment is empty, a blank slate. You’ll need funds to dress it up, make it your own.” He stared at me, daring me to refuse. “You need the money to start over, and I hate to tell you this, but it might not be the last time we have this conversation. I’m going to teach you how to invest what you don’t use, and we’re going to set you up for life.”

  “You need to transfer these funds to Linus.”

  “He doesn’t want them. He didn’t want anything but his personal art. That’s all he took when he left.”

  Those portraits had been a study in Grier, as I recalled, and it didn’t surprise me he wouldn’t part with them.

  “I can’t accept this.” I pushed the card back at him. “It’s too much.”

  “Think about your family.” He held up his hands, palms out. “Addie could use the money, and so could your dad. Think what you could do for them, for your ancestral home.”

  The dissonance between what I expected him to say and what he said jarred me so much I almost said something stupid, like My family doesn’t need the money.

  Boaz and Macon were both still Pritchards. I was the one who had been disinherited. They had family, homes, and trust funds. I had…a cool breeze on my backside from the crack in the hospital gown. The Whitakers didn’t have much more than that to their names either.

  “I can’t.” I set it on the nearest solid surface. “I appreciate what you did, but it’s not mine to spend.”

  “He said you’d say that.”

  Linus, no doubt. The man was darn near prescient.

  Remy, done eating her way through our leftovers, chimed in. “That’s why he bought shares in your company at a ridiculous markup.”

  “There are no shares. There is no company.” I owned a franchise, that was all. “What did you do?”

  “As your business manager—” she lifted an imperious brow, “—I took it upon myself to secure us an investor so that we might expand your brand.”

  The whole purpose of the mall was how easy it made collecting gossip. I couldn’t afford to lose that, even with Remy’s ability to split into multiples.

  “In addition to opening a storefront,” she kept going, “we’ll be opening kiosks in every mall in the city.”

  The storefront would go a long way toward legitimizing my business, but goddess. The expense left me shaking in my boots. I teetered on my feet and sat on the bed before I collapsed.

  The MBA I earned in my past life glittered in my mind’s eye, tantalizing me. I used to have such different dreams, and this touched on one of my old ones. Entrepreneurship had sounded so fancy back then, like a ticket to the good life.

  “I can’t do this.” I kept shaking my head. “It’s not my money, fake investor or not.”

  “Linus is very much real,” said the man himself as he entered the room carrying a diamond cut crystal vase stuffed with three or more dozen blush-pink roses.

  “W-w-what are you doing here?” I yanked the sheet over my lap. “I thought you were in Savannah.”

  “I came to finalize some paperwork.” He flicked a conspiratorial glance at Remy then back to me. “They’ve caught you up to speed?”

  Bishop rubbed the base of his neck and stared at the overhead air vent, utterly absorbed.

  “Yes.” I thrust out my arm to point at the card. “You have to take back your money.”

  Remy growled at me, chicken stuck between her teeth, but we would talk later.

  Ambrose, the jerk, deigned to make an appearance now that Linus was here for him to brownnose.

  “As I understand it,” Linus said, setting the flowers on my side of the bed, “Bishop was kind enough to liquidate the assets I no longer wanted, which gave me a cushion to invest in a local business run by a promising entrepreneur.” He cut his eyes toward Remy. “And her savvy assistant.”

  There was that word. Plucked straight out of my head. Maybe he was psychic.

  “That’s not—” I flailed. “I mean—”

  “Remy has assured me that you will repay my investment, plus interest. Her spreadsheets were quite impressive.”

  The mental picture of me writing my last check to Linus with skin wrinkled to the texture of a prune and zipping around in a powerchair came to me in a moment of perfect clarity.

  “Five years,” she said proudly. “I did the math.”

  Terrified to ask how much Linus had given me, I gaped at her. “Are you insane?”

  Back to rooting through the bag, she found a crumb of cake and licked it off her fingers. “Do you ever look at the spreadsheets I give you?”

  “I mean to,” I said defensively. “I get busy.”

  “I had my accountant verify her numbers, if that puts your mind at ease.” Linus placed a cool hand on my shoulder. “Spread your wings.” The words carried a tangible weight. “You deserve the chance to see how far you can fly.”

  “But…” I wet my lips. “I…”

  “This is a business arrangement.” He squeezed lightly then dropped his arm. “Remy will fill you in on the repayment schedule.”

  “So…” That helped me find my voice. “This is a loan?”

  “Yes,” he said gently. “It’s a loan.”

  I could process loan that better than investment. A loan, I could pay back. An investment implied an act of faith, of trust, of belief. I couldn’t deal with that right now, while I was in a hospital bed and my apartment was a smoking crater in the side of the building.

  I felt like a total failure, and this a handout, but it was easier to listen to that miserable voice in my head than it was to see myself, or my situation, clearly.

  Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

  Mother had warped my perception of myself, I knew that. Year by year, she whittled away my self-esteem until I had to fake smiles for work, for school, for friends. I had to fake me. Hadley wasn’t me, exactly, but she was real. Maybe realer than Amelie ever had been.

  Midas linked our fingers, and I knew w
hat he would say, that I was a fool if I passed on the offer.

  “Do what’s right for you,” he advised, shocking me to my core. “Do what you can live with.”

  More tears threatened, but I squared my shoulders and swallowed the hard lump in my throat.

  My mother was one person. One opinion. Her voice might always ring loudest in my ears, but it didn’t have to be the one I heeded. This many otherwise intelligent people couldn’t be wrong about me.

  I am enough.

  “Thank you,” I whispered to Linus. “You’re a good…friend.”

  During our long association, Linus had been many things to me. A freckle-faced annoyance when we were kids, a lovesick nerd when we were teens, and a nightmare come to startling life when we were adults. I had mocked him, laughed at him, and dismissed him. And he had forgiven all that. He had gifted me with a second chance to be someone whose gaze I could hold in the mirror. Now he was offering me the tools to complete my transformation.

  The all-key tattooed on my forearm was a peculiar design, but at its center was a stylized version of the city seal of Atlanta. A phoenix, its wings spread, rising from the flames.

  I had never identified with it more.

  “I am your friend,” he said softly, and there was sadness there. “I always will be.”

  The unspoken promise, that he would do what must be done no matter the cost, comforted me.

  Bishop would fight for me. I understood that now. Midas… He would never let me go. Linus was the one person on whose shoulders the burden of my existence could rest. I hated that for him, and I wished I hadn’t caved to sentimentality now. I didn’t want to make it any harder on him than it had to be, if the worst came to pass.

  Linus walked out with Bishop, and Remy began tiptoeing behind them to eavesdrop until I snapped my fingers to get her attention.

  “You’ve done enough, Employee of the Month.” I jabbed a finger at her. “Get back to building your evil empire and leave them out of it.”

  “You’re mad now, but you’ll get over it.” She smiled, needlelike teeth on display. “And you’ll thank me.”

  During the excitement, Midas had fallen asleep, his eyes twitching behind their lids.

  Most of his exposed skin was bright pink with regrown flesh and pimpled with blisters. His hair had been buzzed against his scalp, and one of his eyebrows was missing. He would have died in that inferno, if he weren’t gwyllgi and if Abbott wasn’t such a gifted healer. And fine, if Ambrose hadn’t been able to give me the strength I needed to walk out of there with him.

  With few other available options, I leaned on my backstabbing employee. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Depends,” she mumbled around food. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Can you buy me an outfit to get me out of the infirmary without me flashing everyone between here and Target?”

  “A Target run?” She took a swig of my water. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “Buy to my tastes,” I warned her. “Not yours.”

  “Sure thing.” She pocketed my shiny new card and sashayed out humming Madonna’s “Like a Virgin.”

  Well, that sounded promising. I’m sure nothing bad would come of letting her choose my wardrobe.

  With that ball rolling, I cuddled Midas, pretended I had nothing better to do, and wished that were true.

  Thirteen

  Remy provided me with clothes, shoes, and basic hygiene products. If the lone outfit I had to my name included an eighties hairband tee and ripped jeans, I didn’t give her the satisfaction of showing my annoyance. The fact my sneakers lit up when I walked meant I could never wear them on patrol without advertising my movements to predators, but again, I smiled and thanked her.

  I wished I hadn’t after I saw the jumbo spray can of Aqua Net in the plastic bag but c'est la vie. Or was that que será, será? Whatever. I was terrible with languages.

  While I dressed like the groupie that time forgot, Midas dozed, and I was grateful to spare him from my ensemble. The man had suffered enough. Plus, he might be in reach of his phone, and I did not want this outfit captured for posterity.

  Before slipping out the door, I wrote him a brief note and kissed his forehead. I hated leaving him alone, but the drugs kept him resting peacefully, and I didn’t have time to hover with so many other lives at stake.

  As the elevator chimed its arrival, Abbott noticed me attempting a prison break and broke into a sprint. The doors closed before he reached me, and I said a mental apology for the chaos I brought into his life as I dialed Lisbeth.

  Since I still had to escape the Faraday lobby before I got intercepted, I walked and talked with purpose. “Do you think you can arrange a rush delivery on a few things for me?”

  “Please give me a job. I beg of you.” She pitched her voice low. “Ford has me propped up on the couch watching soaps. I’m bored out of my mind. I get enough drama at work, you know?”

  Ignoring how her comment applied to me, I asked, “Have you maybe told him you don’t enjoy soaps?”

  “He was so proud to know what women want, Hadley. I couldn’t break his heart on the first day.”

  “Okay, fine. Break the news to him tomorrow.”

  Laughing softly, she turned the conversation back toward me. “How can I help?”

  “I need a king-size mattress delivered to the penthouse.” The freedom to say put it on my card was heady. I could get used to this. “Talk to Remy about sheets. We get free samples. Color doesn’t matter.”

  “King-size, huh?” Lisbeth cackled. “That’s quite the upgrade.”

  “Hmm.” I thought about it. “We’ve made the futon work this long. Downgrade us to a queen.”

  We.

  Us.

  Powerful words that gave me heart palpitations.

  “I’m just yanking your chain.” She snorted. “Midas is a lot of man. I get you want to keep him close, but come summer, you’ll be glad you can feel a breeze between you.” She waited for me to decide. “Well? King or queen?”

  “Surprise me.”

  I couldn’t dedicate this much headspace to the next logical thought, that if the courtship thing didn’t pan out, I wouldn’t need more than a futon. A king-size bed would be a reminder of the prince who no longer shared it with me.

  “Okay.” A worried note carried in her voice, but she kept her concerns to herself. “Need anything else?”

  “Another outfit would be nice.” I read her the numbers off my card. “I might need it after this.”

  “After what?”

  “After I have a nice sit-down with Blithe,” I confided. “That’s what.”

  It was time to stir the pot and see what bubbled over.

  Greenleaf was in full swing when I arrived, and I stepped in line to wait my turn. I didn’t want to draw the bouncer’s eye, so I kept my head down but my ears open. As it happened, he wasn’t paying much attention to the individuals waiting to get in. He got a call through his earpiece every so often, and he counted out the next five people to let through the door. It was very methodical, not at all based on how much flesh or cash got exposed. More than anything, it reminded me of an assembly line.

  When my turn came, the bouncer didn’t blink. Just counted heads and let us in. I was grateful to be the fifth in my group. I wouldn’t have wanted to stand at the head of the line and wait right under his nose. So far, he had given no indication he recognized me. I wanted to keep it that way.

  Inside the club, I breathed easier. The space was pitch black except where dark-green lights shone on walls of living plants that writhed with magic or an optical illusion. It was hard to tell, and I didn’t plan on investigating.

  “Dance with me,” a male voice whispered in my ear, “you lovely creature.”

  Chills peppered my arms, and I turned slowly to find a slender man with leaves for hair and lips as bright as clovers behind me. He wore a costume straight out of a period feature film, something Jane Austenish, and I had to admire his dedicati
on to a theme.

  “I have a boyfriend.” I honed my glare on him. “He eats men who dance with me for breakfast.”

  “Do you promise,” he breathed, and I could tell he meant it. “I haven’t been properly dined on in ages.”

  That sounded like a personal problem to me. “Have you seen Blithe?”

  “Madam Danann is holding court.” He offered his arm. “Shall I escort you to her?”

  “Sure.” I didn’t accept his arm, and my defiance delighted him. I could tell by the quick shine in his eyes and the swipe of his grass-green tongue over his lips. “Were you here for the party a few days ago?”

  “Madam ordered us all away,” he pouted. “I heard about it, of course. Pity to have missed it.”

  “Yeah.” I recalled the bodies sprawled on the sidewalk. “A real shame.”

  “I feel I must warn you, lovely, that there are those among us who keep an eager eye on you.”

  “I get that a lot.” Gooseflesh rose down my arms at the implied threat. “Mostly from people trying to kill me.”

  “You helped one of us, and now I will help you.”

  Aware I couldn’t speak Bishop’s name, I didn’t bother, but I did wonder if that was who he meant.

  “I appreciate that.” I scanned for the court he mentioned. “Where did you say Blithe was again?”

  The man took me by the hand and whirled me into a quickstep that spun me out the exit onto the street behind the club.

  “Don’t come here again, lovely.” A ripple made his outline blur, and then he was the man with long black hair from the blood whorehouse where Linus had instructed me to leave Bishop after we sprung him from the cage the coven put him in. “Next time I might not be the one to spot the wolf among the sheep.”

  “I need to speak to Blithe,” I protested, ready to push past him. “You don’t understand—”

  “No,” he sighed. “You don’t understand.” He touched his fingers to my forehead. “You will.”

  Glittering trails fanned in all directions, entering and exiting the club, streaming down darkened streets and through alleys.