Inclining her head, she passed over a whisper-thin organizer that was a prototype from one of Kaleb’s enterprises. “If you could sign this contract before you go.”
Kaleb scanned the text to make sure it was exactly as he wanted it, then signed. “No interruptions unless it’s an emergency.”
“Yes, sir.”
Having already gotten a fix on the visual coordinates he’d been given, Kaleb teleported to the location of the meeting—though he could’ve teleported directly to Ena Mercant. Despite her tendency to stay out of the spotlight, he had a recent visual of her face. Not all teleporters could lock on to people as well as places, but Kaleb had been born with the ability.
Using it in these circumstances, however, would’ve been a grave insult to his host.
I couldn’t resist, whispered a familiar telepathic voice, carried along their bond and augmented by Kaleb’s own strength until Sahara could reach him telepathically, no matter the distance that separated them. What does Ena Mercant’s inner sanctum look like?
The darkness inside Kaleb stretched out under the light that was Sahara. Are you still in bed? He’d left her warm and sleepy and flushed from his kiss when he teleported into the office.
Do you know how sexy you are when you dress in those suits? was her response. Especially when you button up your shirt, then slot in the cuff links. Watching you is like having a waking erotic dream.
Kaleb smiled inwardly. Yes, I know. Sahara had made it clear by the way she watched him, by the number of times she’d hauled him into bed after he’d had his shower and was dressing. Should I stop?
Come home and tease me after this meeting. You left too early.
His inward smile deepened even as he kept his face expressionless. I have an empire to run.
Pfft. What’s another million or five when you have . . . I don’t even know how much money you have.
A lot. And it’s ours, not mine. He’d built the empire for her, built everything for her. This location in Ena Mercant’s home is identical to the image I showed you. A cool floor of dark stone, steel gray walls, sofas of a darker gray.
Really? A hint of disappointment. I expected something unexpected. She’s the Mercant after all.
Kaleb looked around the room, spotted what he’d missed when he first came in. There’s a vase of dark, dark red roses along one wall. A single, violent splash of color in the gray. Perhaps a subtle reminder that those who cross the Mercants die bloody deaths?
Don’t joke, Sahara ordered, her tone no longer playful. These people are dangerous.
So am I, he reminded the woman who worried about him, who loved him, twisted internal scars and all. But I promise I won’t take anything for granted. The Mercants can be lethal foes.
He walked to the large sloping windows that looked out over a misty gorge. It was heading into night in this part of the world, but Ena’s windows didn’t look out over a city bright with sparkling lights. No, beyond the gorge was craggy rock and then the crashing sea. This is interesting. He sent Sahara an image of what he was seeing.
His senses alerted him to another presence at almost the same instant.
Turning, he saw a woman who was Silver with fifty more years of life. The same eyes, the same sharply defined face. The difference was that Ena Mercant’s hair was silky white and she wore not a skirt suit, but pants that moved fluidly around her legs, the color of the fabric similar to that of the café au lait Sahara had made Kaleb try three days earlier. Ena’s top was the same color and of the same fabric and flowed to her hips while covering her arms.
On her feet were black flats. She also wore a long silver necklace that came down to below her breasts and was anchored by an ornate metal pendant with a core of red.
Psy rarely wore jewelry, but Kaleb had a feeling this wasn’t just jewelry. “Ena,” he said, very deliberately using her first name.
Ena Mercant might be a shadow power but Kaleb was a power.
Better she not forget that. His decision wasn’t arrogance but the cool tactical thinking that had led to his meteoric rise—and that kept him at the top of the food chain. Even Pax Marshall, who was flexing his muscle against many others, gave Kaleb a wide berth.
“Kaleb.” Ena Mercant’s voice had a rasp that seemed natural. “What do you think of the view?”
Turning back to it as she came to stand beside him, he said, “It’s similar to my own view at home.” His deck jutted out over a gorge as steep. “You don’t want to be closer to a metropolitan area?” That was the choice made by most Psy.
“Do you?” Ena’s eyes remained on the foaming waves in the distance.
“No, but I’m a teleporter.”
A graceful incline of Ena’s head. “Point well made.” She moved her hand. “Come, sit, let’s talk.”
• • •
KALEB left the meeting two hours later with the understanding that the Mercants were in his corner—and that Ena Mercant might be the most dangerous individual he’d ever met. She had ruthless intelligence paired with ruthless ambition. But where others used such ambition for themselves, Ena used it in pursuit of power for her family.
“We’ve accepted you as one of us,” Ena had said to him, point-blank. “Don’t betray the family and we will never betray you.”
It was a far better outcome than Kaleb could’ve ever anticipated. “I won’t be like the rest of your family, Ena,” he’d pointed out. “The only orders I take are my own.” And Sahara’s. But Ena Mercant didn’t need to know that.