“That will not be a problem.”
It never was. We walked down to the streetlights—dashing through Sydney traffic was never a good idea; not if you valued your life, that was, and I hardly wanted to survive the Raziq only to get sideswiped by a mad Sydney motorist—then back to the building. The entrance was discreet and the foyer plush—a palette of golds mingling with dark woods and clever lighting. A guard—also clad in muted gold—looked up from his desk and gave us a smile.
“And how may I help you folks today?” His voice was as smooth and welcoming as his smile, despite the fact that we certainly didn’t look like the type of folks who would know anyone wealthy enough to own a place like this, let alone be able to afford it ourselves. Which, of course, was rather deceptive, given that I could. Hell, I could buy the whole damn building had I wanted to. Mom certainly hadn’t left me poor, in any way, shape, or form.
“We have a meeting with Harrison Jantz in”—I hesitated, making a show of looking at my watch—“precisely five minutes.”
The guard frowned. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, because Mr. Jantz—”
“Mr. Jantz said it was urgent,” Azriel cut in, and waved a hand, doing his thought-altering bit.
The guard’s expression didn’t change. “Of course, but I’ll have to speak with Mr. Jantz first.”
“Fine,” I said, but raised my eyebrows at Azriel. How is that going to get us in when Jantz isn’t there?
He might not be, but our guard will nevertheless hear the expected response, and we will be cleared to go upstairs.
You’re a man of never-ending talents.
And I haven’t even begun to unveil the full depths of some talents yet. His mental tones were bland, but there was a hint of amusement running through the background of his thoughts, and a decidedly cheeky smile creasing the corners of his blue eyes. But it will be my great pleasure to reveal one particular talent over our years together, if the fates so allow.
I grinned. And I, dear reaper, cannot wait. Especially if that so-called talent was what I suspected it was. And really? If what we’d shared was but a taste of what he could do to me, then I was going to be happier—and far more contented—than a pig in shit.
I cannot see why you would equate a pig to your own future happiness. That makes no sense. His reply was distracted. The guard had made the call and was currently have a conversation with the nonexistent Jantz.
You’ve obviously never witnessed the joy of a pig rolling in mud and shit.
Nor do I want to.
How about if I roll around in mud?
That I would definitely watch. He glanced at the guard, who froze instantly, the phone still held to his ear, then added softly, “But then, my idea of heaven is being with you, no matter what you do or where you are.”
I smiled, twined one hand through his, then rose on tiptoes and kissed him, long and tender. Eventually, I added, “Who knew you were such a romantic, reaper.”
He raised a hand and brushed my cheek gently. “Who knew I would have so much to live for. Certainly not me. Not before I met you.”
“And who knew everything I was looking for would come wrapped up in such a stoic, stubborn, frustrating, and absolutely wonderful being who isn’t even of this world.”
He laughed, the sound warm and rich. “There’s a compliment in there somewhere, I’m sure.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I replied, amused.
He smiled, then glanced at the guard and released him. The guard placed the phone receiver down, then said, “Mr. Jantz has cleared your entry into the building.”
“Excellent,” Azriel said. “Thank you very much.”
“No problems.” The guard put a couple of security cards on the table, followed by a sign-in book. “ID?”
I showed him my driver’s license, then signed for both of us. He added, “These will get you into the elevator area, and through security screens on the seventh floor.”
“And Mr. Jantz is apartment A?” Azriel said.
“He certainly is.” The guard smiled again. “Just return the passes as you’re exiting.”
“Thank you,” Azriel repeated, then tugged me forward, leading the way to the lift area.
I swiped the card through the slot, then pressed the button for the seventh floor. As the doors closed and the lift began to move smoothly upward, I said, “Given Lauren has a habit of setting traps or blowing shit up, it might be wise if we presume the worst and reconnoiter in energy form before we physically enter Jantz’s apartment.”