Page 36 of Simon Says

CHAPTER EIGHT

Simon had dedicatedhimself to Black Swan since the year he’d turned fourteen. First as a student. Then as a vampire hunter. Then as a floating manager, filling the job of sovereign whenever a hunter unit was left in between appointments. He excelled at everything he did and, over the years, became well-known, well-liked, and well-respected.

He’d been Director at headquarters for ten years. It was a job he wanted as much for the location as for the work and the honor. It was ideal for a bachelor because there was little, if any, time for thinking about anything other than the good of the organization and its people. The fact that it required a selfless commitment was never a problem, but Sorcha’s return meant his days of thinking only about himself and Black Swan were over.

One thing about being Director of Black Swan. The gig came with perks. Simon didn’t take advantage of most of them. Didn’t even know what most of them were. But the fact that his apartment occupied half of the top floor of headquarters was a benefit he’d never appreciated more than when he showed Sorcha inside and closed the door behind them.

“So much to tell you,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure where to even begin.”

“What do you have to eat?” she asked. “I’ve had no’ a thing but hospital food for a year. As I remember, you’re a good cook.”

He laughed. “I used to be. Haven’t cooked in so long I’d probably make a muddle of it. But there’s a world-class kitchen downstairs that can make you anything you want and bring it up. Just name it.”

“Sea bass?” He nodded. “Fresh spinach salad?” He nodded again and smiled. “Strawberries and clotted cream?”

He picked up a house phone, pushed the kitchen option, and placed her order along with a steak for himself. “Anything else?” he asked her while they were still on the line.

“Tea?”

“Got that here,” he told her. To the kitchen he said, “I have a special guest. So don’t burn anything.” Pause. “No. I know you’ve never burned anything. It was a joke.” Pause. “Yes. I know how to joke.” He hung up.

“We can have tea while we’re waiting for dinner,” he said. He moved into the kitchen to start the kettle. She followed and sat at one of the two bar stools that looked into the kitchen. Simon realized that it was the first time someone other than himself had sat on one of those stools.

“I got no place to be,” she said wistfully. “I mean that literally. I do no’ suppose I can just show up on campus and say, ‘Surprise. I’ve been away for twenty years, but I’d like to finish my thesis now. Oh. I don’t look that old? Well, ’tis the result of a new beauty treatment. Nine pounds ninety-five deducted from your credit card every cycle and you, too, can take decades off. Guaranteed. Or your money back’.”

Simon chuckled. “You might have a career as a comedian.” She didn’t laugh. “Okay. So it’s not funny. But it can be fixed.”

“How?”

“I work for an organization that’s very good at sorting things out.”

She looked around. “Is that what this is? An organization that sorts things out?”

“Before I tell you everything about who I work for and what I do, I need to find out where I stand. With you.”

“What do you mean?”

Simon put teabags into two cups. “What do you take in your tea?”

“You have lemon and cream?”

He looked in his refrigerator. “As a matter of fact, I do,” he said proudly.

She giggled, seeing that he hadn’t had any idea what was in his refrigerator.

When the kettle whistled, he served her tea and sat on the other stool.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said.

“So you did no’ get married?” she asked.

“No,” he said, lips twitching like it might have been a joke.

“Why no’?”

He huffed out a breath. “This is going to sound crazy.”

“Say it anyway. I’ve recently seen things that people would say were impossible. My standards for crazy have shifted considerably.”

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