Aphrodite's Flame (8 page)

That
she’d
done right.

His thoughts filled her, spilling into her head so quickly that she almost stumbled under the weight of him.
Honor, commitment, honesty
. Those things pervaded his brain. He was walking the straight and narrow, all right.

Izzy felt her smile broaden as she pulled her hand away. “It was great to see you,” she said. “I’m so glad you stopped to say hi.”

And then he was gone and she was the first in line. And, damn it all to Hades, the lemon poppy-seed muffin was gone.

Elder Armistand had a stern face and an even sterner voice. Didn’t matter. Even faced with the threat of Armistand’s disapproval, Mordi was completely unable to concentrate on the elder’s words. His attention was too taken by the woman sitting next to him.

It had been a long time since he’d been attracted to a woman. The complications in his life had left little time for romance, and Mordi had learned to simply quit looking. Why risk that tender tug at his heart if there was no way he could follow through?

And how could he? Even now that he was a full Protector, he still carried the stigma of his blood. He wasn’t exactly eligible bachelor material, that was for sure.

This woman, though...

From the moment they’d been introduced, he’d been intrigued. Something about her manner, about the way she held herself. Something suggested to Mordi there was more to Isole Frost than she was letting him—or anyone—see.

Armistand had introduced her as Zoë‘s replacement. And now she sat beside him, looking prim and proper in a white linen suit, her blond hair pulled up into a perfectly coiffed knot. Her face was angular, all shadows and lights, and her piercing blue eyes reflected strength and an innate professionalism.

In sum, she was starkly beautiful and utterly distant. She’d given Mordi a quick glance when she entered, nodded briefly, then taken her own seat across from Armistand. Now she was taking copious notes, showing not the slightest bit of interest in him.

For the best, he supposed. She’d got his attention, that was for sure. But unless she was the world’s best actress, she wasn’t nearly as fascinated as him. Besides, getting involved with any woman would be a mistake. And considering this woman was showing absolutely no interest in him, he supposed that he was in no danger of having to extricate himself from a romantic entanglement.

Too bad.

He must have sighed, because suddenly both Armistand and Isole turned to look at him.

“Are we boring you?” the elder asked from behind the broad expanse of his oak desk.

“Sorry, sir. Something in my throat.” He brushed his neck for effect, and Armistand grunted, then focused again on his notes. In the upholstered guest chair next to Mordi, Isole lifted an eyebrow, her expression suggesting that she saw right through him.

Armistand flipped two pages, grunted again, then looked back up, his gaze landing first on Isole, then moving quickly to Mordi. “So we are clear, then? You understand the role you’re to play?”

Mordi’s stomach twisted, and he had the sudden sensation of being back in boarding school, thrust to the front of the room to work a quadratic equation when he’d spent the entire class trying to surreptitiously levitate a pencil on the schoolmaster’s desk.

“Mr. Black?”

Mordi swallowed. “Of course, sir. The Council—”

“—wants to reassure the mortal representatives that Protectors can be assimilated into mortal culture and that we are no threat,” Isole said, sitting forward slightly and not looking at Mordi. “Because of our heritage as Halflings, Mordichai and I are already somewhat integrated into mortal society. We can provide a good face, if you will, for the Council and, hopefully, smooth the negotiations.”

She sat back then and recrossed her legs. He tried to catch her eye, wanting to signal his thanks, but she studiously avoided him.

Armistand’s eyes narrowed. “Thank you, Ms. Frost. However, I had meant to inquire of Mr. Black.”

Her eyes widened, and she lifted her hand, pressing her fingers lightly over her mouth. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t even think. I was just so excited about being a part of this endeavor that I—”

Armistand cut her off with a wave of a hand, his expression softening. Clearly, he bought what the girl was selling.

For someone who’d just embarrassed herself, though, she had managed to not even raise a hint of blush. Considering how fair she was, that was quite a feat indeed, and Mordi suddenly realized what was going on. She hadn’t jumped in out of excitement. She’d jumped in to save his butt.

Maybe she was a little intrigued by him after all....

“Mr. Black?”

He cleared his throat. “I think Ms. Frost did an excellent job of summarizing our role. I’d only like to add that it’s an honor to be able to assist the Council in this matter.”

Armistand’s face didn’t soften as it had for Isole, but neither did he challenge Mordi again. Not being a fool, Mordi took that as a victory.

“Very well.” Armistand closed his portfolio. Apparently, the meeting was over. “We’ll expect to see you at the next committee meeting. Plan to make a good impression on the mortal representatives. And it would probably be a good idea for you two to meet with the mortal liaisons beforehand. My assistant will make the necessary arrangements and e-mail you the date and location. That will be all.”

Isole stood, and Mordi followed her lead. “Thank you, sir,” he said, then turned to leave, holding the door open so that Isole could precede him through.

He’d expected her to wait for him, but apparently she had other intentions. By the time he pulled the door shut, she was already halfway down the hall, her heels clicking on the polished stone floor.

“Ms. Frost,” he called, picking up his pace so that she wouldn’t reach the elevator and disappear. “Isole!”

She stopped, and he saw her shoulders sag just slightly. Then she turned and faced him, irritation lining her perfect features. “I have an appointment in five minutes,” she said. “Will this take long?”

Taken aback, Mordi stopped cold. “Don’t worry. I won’t take up too much of your precious time.”

“Then I’d suggest you get on with it.”

Mordi grimaced. So much for his fantasy that he might actually connect with this woman. She practically dripped icicles. “I got the impression that you meant what you said to Elder Armistand—that this project was high priority.”

“I did mean it,” she said, apparently unruffled.

“Then perhaps you could demonstrate it,” he said. He gestured to himself. “We’re both working on this project. Perhaps you could eke out a few minutes to discuss our game plan?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so, Mr. Black. If you’re not interested in paying attention during the Elder’s presentation, I hardly intend to play tutor now.”

He felt his face warm. “I appreciate you covering me in there.”

“Believe me, Mr. Black,” she said, “I acted entirely out of self-interest. If you look like a fool, then so do I. So do all Halflings.”

“All the more reason for us to talk and plan what we’re doing next.”

She licked her lips, the gesture softening her ice-cold demeanor. She avoided his eyes, managing instead to look everywhere else in the hall. For a moment, he thought she would agree. Then she shook her head, looked him straight in the eye, and said with cold clarity, “I don’t think so. We’re just supposed to be our normal, charming, half-mortal selves. I think I can handle that without a game plan,” she said.

“Charm is on the agenda?” he snapped back. “I’m thinking you may need to practice.”

He immediately regretted the words. Not that they seemed to bother her. Isole Frost simply glanced at her wristwatch, then turned away. “My appointment,” she said. And then she was gone.

Leaving Mordi to wonder what the heck had just happened ... and why in Hades he was attracted to such an ice princess in the first place.

It really was a conundrum, and he was frowning, his mind filled with thoughts of Isole Frost, when his holo-pager beeped. He flipped it open, his frown deepening when Phelonium Prigg appeared on the display. Simpering little bureaucrat twit.

Mordi nodded, hoping his disdain didn’t show on his face. “Yes?”

“The High Elder has asked me to inform you of your newest assignment.”

Mordi lifted an eyebrow. “Another assignment?”

Prigg ignored the comment, barreling on with purpose. “You are to assist with re-assimilation assessments. A high-level Outcast has applied, and Zephron believes that you should be involved in the process.”

“That’s really not my field,” Mordi said, thinking he’d rather shove toothpicks under his fingernails. “Who’s the Outcast?”

“I’m sorry, Zephron asked that I not reveal that information at this time. He’s currently in a very important meeting, and asks that you wait for him in his office, where he’ll give you the full overview of the assignment.” At the words “very important,” Prigg stood up straighter and lifted his chin, as if the importance of Zephron’s meetings somehow reflected on him.

“Fine. Whatever.” Mordi didn’t like it, but he could hardly argue. “At least tell me who the counselor is.”

“Isole Frost,” Prigg said.

Mordi stared at the three-dimensional image. “Frost?”

“Yes. Why?”

Suddenly the assignment didn’t seem that terrible after all. “Thanks. I already know Ms. Frost. I’ll head on over there now and meet up with Zephron later.”

“I really don’t think that’s—”

Mordi flipped the case on his holo-pager closed, taking a perverse satisfaction in shutting up the little twerp ... and anticipating the look on Isole Frost’s face when she learned that Mordi was her brand-new assistant.

After being dissed by the girl, he had to say, the afternoon was looking up.

Mordichai Black.

Jumping Jupiter, how could she be so unlucky?

Mordichai’s reputation was well-known among Protectors. The man had an Outcast for a father (albeit one who might be making amends), and now he was busting his tail nailing traitorous Protectors.

Her own tiny bit of treason flashed orange neon over her head. Every minute she kept silent was an Outcastable offense, and that little fact made her stomach hurt. Oh please oh please oh please ... don’t let him have seen her guilt.

He couldn’t possibly have, of course. She’d kept her cool, though she probably
had
been a little more standoffish than necessary. Had he noticed
that
? Had he been suspicious?

Izzy took a deep breath, trying to calm down as the elevator took her even deeper into the bowels of the U.N. basement. Unlike her recent trip to see Bilius, this time she hardly even noticed the elevator. For one, her office was down here, and the elevator ride—though always unpleasant—was somewhat familiar. For another, her mind was too full of Mordichai Black to have any room for her petty phobias, no matter how unpetty they might seem at some other time.

The doors opened, and she stepped out, striding automatically down the hall toward her office.
Calm down, Izzy. Calm down and think
.

Right. Good advice. She paused outside her office, took a couple of deep breaths, then pushed inside.

Everything was as she’d left it. The five case files— including the one on Hieronymous—that had come with her promotion were stacked neatly on her desk. The black leather couch was cleared off, except for two small red throw pillows. An assortment of magazines and newspapers—everything from
People
to
Protector Living
—was fanned out on the coffee table. And her flamingo floor lamp burned in the corner, adding a soft glow and a bit of whimsy to the room.

The familiarity of the room calmed her, and she tucked her purse into the credenza, then made her way behind her desk. She sat in the chair, leaned back, and contemplated her ceiling.

She was fine. Mordi wasn’t going to present any problem. She’d picked up on his attraction, true. But she’d been so terrified that he might try and get close—and thus discover her misdeeds—that she’d immediately tried to discourage him.

It had worked, too. No doubt about that.

The thought brought a tiny tinge of regret. Under other circumstances, she might want to see what could develop between her and the likes of Mordichai Black. After all, with his tailored suits and prep-school manner, he certainly had the appearance of an eligible man. But it was those dangerous green eyes and the slightly wind tousled hair that shifted his appearance from refined to
very
fine. No doubt about it, in a different time and place, she would definitely look twice at the intrepid Mr. Black. Here and now, though? No. No way, no how.

Which was why she’d put a quick damper on any heated thoughts that Mordi might have for her. Which meant that she’d see Mordichai Black at the committee meetings, but that was that. No planning strategies. No late-night coffee while they opined as to the state of mind of the various committee members. No scrambling to figure out how they could play a role in the negotiations bigger than simply being Halflings-on-parade.

She told herself that was good. She didn’t want to see him. But even as she sternly lectured herself, a tiny rebellious part of her wanted to see the man again. Wanted to see heat flush that face, so perfect with its aristocratic nose and sharply defined jaw. Wanted to see those green eyes spark. Wanted—

Jumping Jupiter
! What was the matter with her? A good-looking man thinks a few lustful thoughts, and suddenly she’s ga-ga for him? She was made of sterner stuff, and she’d do well to remember just how much trouble Mordichai Black could cause her.

With a frown, she glanced at the clock on her wall. Any minute now, Mordichai’s father would arrive ... and he was trouble enough without adding the son to the mix.

And she
was
in trouble. The bump to Level V might technically be a promotion, but the assignment to Hieronymous’s case put her in a stress-filled, damned-if-you-do and damned-if-you-don’t position.

So, yeah. She had a pay raise and she had a bit more prestige. Enjoy it while she could, because she was about to commit professional suicide.