Rogue Descendant (Nikki Glass) - By Jenna Black Page 0,44
hope you don’t mind him sitting in.”
Anderson stared at Mark’s extended hand, but made no move to shake it. There was a lightning bolt glyph on the back of Mark’s hand, telling us he was a descendant of Zeus. I didn’t like leaving him hanging there, but I took my cue from Anderson and didn’t offer any pleasantries, either. I guess Anderson found the Descendant’s presence as rude as I did.
Still smiling, Cyrus patted Mark’s shoulder, and Mark lowered his hand.
“Just a precaution,” Cyrus said, sitting back down. “I figured you probably weren’t too happy with me right now. I also figured you probably wouldn’t do anything stupid in a public place, but one can never be too careful.” He reached over and stroked Mark’s back like he was petting a dog. “I promise he won’t interfere as long as we’re just talking. You won’t even know he’s here.”
Anderson was still standing, giving both Cyrus and Mark his best scowl. I’d never had much patience for posturing, so I pulled back my own chair and sat without waiting for Anderson.
“Were you hoping we’d bring Blake so you could make him jealous?” I asked Cyrus.
He grinned and looked over at Mark in a considering manner. “Yes, there is a certain resemblance, isn’t there?” Mark looked more uncomfortable now than he had when we’d refused to shake his hand, and I felt momentarily bad for him. Then I reminded myself that he was an Olympian-wannabe, which meant he was not one of the good guys.
Anderson slowly took his seat.
“Would you like to order something before we begin?” Cyrus asked. Both he and Mark had cups of espresso in front of them, though it looked like Mark had barely touched his.
I’d have loved to have a cup of coffee to fidget with, if not to drink, but Anderson wasn’t interested.
“This isn’t a social call,” he said coldly, “and there’s no reason to pretend it is.”
Cyrus stuck out his lower lip in a pout. “We can talk business without completely skipping the social niceties.” He motioned to the barista, holding up two fingers. “Two more shots for my friends, please,” he called.
“You know, the polite way to order at a coffee bar is to go up to the register and talk in a normal tone of voice,” I said, not willing to be charmed by his genial manner.
Cyrus was hardly chastened by my rebuke. “I’m a regular, and I tip really, really well. Amazing the kind of service that buys me.”
“You don’t actually think we’re buying your good-ole-boy act, do you?” Anderson asked.
“It’s not an act. If you’re expecting me to act all stodgy and self-important like my father, you can forget it. That’s not my style.”
The barista brought over two demitasse cups of steaming, fragrant espresso, putting them before me and Anderson. “Need anything else?” she asked Cyrus with a coquettish smile. She probably thought he would make a great catch with his good looks and his propensity for throwing money around.
“No thanks, Lacy,” he said, and I wondered if he actually remembered her name, or was just reading her name tag. “We’re good for now.”
She wandered away, disappointed.
“Now, since you’re so anxious to get down to business,” Cyrus said, “why don’t you start talking.”
Anderson turned to me, and I told Cyrus about the two fires that had devastated my life over the last week. He listened in silence, and I passed the folder with the news article and the printout of the email across the table to him.
I’m not a big fan of espresso, unless it has a lot of steamed milk in it, but I was too jittery to sit still while Cyrus read, so I took a sip. Anderson hadn’t touched his.
Finally, Cyrus finished reading and tucked the papers back into the folder. He shook his head and gave me a look of genuine sympathy.
“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all this,” he said. “I’m sure being tossed headfirst into our world is stressful enough without adding this crap to it.” He slid the folder back to me with a sharp gesture that spoke of annoyance. “But I can assure you Konstantin isn’t behind it.”
Anderson snorted. “He claimed responsibility!”
Cyrus rolled his eyes. “As I told Nikki before, an anonymous email isn’t proof of anything.” He looked at me. “My father hates your guts, I won’t lie. But not because he blames you for his troubles. He can be petty, but he’s not stupid.”