Page 4 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
She pulled her phone from her dress pocket and pressed play on a video of one of his farms. The sound came first: the restless clucking of chickens and the creak of old wood. The footage showed overcrowded enclosures, the birds packed too tightly, their feathers ruffled and dull. Some perched uneasily, shifting as they tried to find space, while others remained still, their heads tucked down.
Nia watched his face pale. “How much would you lose in sales if I posted this? If, say, the media got their hands on it?”
His jaw clenched. “Fine. Fine.”
“Niiaahh,” a singsong voice called from the distance.
“I expect the funds in five days. Now tell my business partner how pretty she looks tonight.”
Nia linked her arm through Jackson’s and smoothed the creases from his shirt. She turned to Ivy, who was skipping toward them in a shear opal dress. Her white-blonde hair gleamed orange in the firelight and her eyes sparkled with delight.
“Nia,” Ivy said with a breathy sigh. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“I’m right here.” She pinched Jackson’s rib.
“You look lovely tonight, Ivy.”
She pinched harder.
“Absolutely stunning, if I wasn’t already mar?—”
“Thank you so much, Jackson,” Nia cut in. “I look forward to working with you.”
She released him and he stumbled away as Ivy waved an uneasy goodbye.
“What were you doing with the CEO of the largest poultry distribution company this side of the continent?” Her delicate hand continued to wave.
“Talking to him about the best places to donate his money.” Nia glanced at her nails, her tone casual.
She and Ivy had founded The Charis Foundation six years ago, back when they’d shared a tiny apartment on the verge of foreclosure. The building’s owner, an elderly woman, had fallen behind on her payments. A large corporation was circling, eager to buy the property and turn it into a parking garage. A parking garage in Stella Rune—how obscene.
Determined to help, Ivy and Nia had worked tirelessly to raise the money needed to save the property, eventually returning ownership to the older woman. That victory had sparked the creation of Charis, an organization dedicated to supporting causes close to Stella Rune and in the surrounding area. Years later, when the woman had passed away, she left the building to Ivy and Nia.
On the surface, Charis matched small charities with donors and helped them find creative ways to raise funds. They worked with wealthy individuals who had a genuine heart for giving—but that was only half the story. Off the books, Nia targeted corrupt individuals and forced them to pay for their sins.
It was the only way she knew to atone for the damage caused by people like her father. She’d never let Ivy in on what she really did, or the kinds of people she convinced to donate.
“Nia,” Ivy scolded, spinning to face her. “You were roughing him up, weren’t you?”
“Me? Never.”
“If people want to donate, let them do it out of the goodness of their hearts.”
Nia arched a brow. She never judged Ivy for how she got her donations. Her best friend had once bought them groceries—and quietly funded three food drives—by sending a few spicy videos to some exceptionally generous individuals. Not one of them knew their money ended up feeding the hungry.
Ivy had no idea how far Nia went to secure donations, and it was better that way. Safer.
Nia smiled, deflecting. “Oh, go dye your eyebrows.”
“How dare you!” Ivy gasped, her hands flying to cover her brows. “You know how much it bothers me. You can’t even see them unless I color them every other week.” She stomped her foot for emphasis. “That’s it.”
“What are you going to do?”
Ivy’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “I’ll order you decaf for a month!”
“You wouldn’t do that to me.”
Satisfied, Ivy turned her nose up and strutted off toward the growing crowd, where people had begun to dance beneath the now-dark sky. On her way, she passed one of Stella Rune’s few remaining elders: a wiry old witch with shoulders curved from years of hunching over spellbooks and mediating petty squabbles.
