“And you consented to this?”

Antonio smiled again. “I’m guessing you’re not magically capable. Producing a Significant would be an immense achievement. It would open doors and change our entire social standing. The price is worth it. We’re both reasonable people. We hardly suffer.”

He raised his arms, indicating his living room.

“We allowed ourselves to seek happiness elsewhere, provided we were discreet for the sake of the children. So, if you want the proverbial pillow talk, you’ll have to ask Gabriel Baranovsky. He and Elena had a relationship for the past three years. She went to see him the evening before she died. Perhaps he’ll talk to you. Personally, I doubt it. There are Houses and then there are Houses.”

He’d sunk extra gravitas into the last word just in case I failed to understand its full significance.

“Baranovsky belongs to one of the latter. Elena was very fortunate to have caught his eye, and we’ve benefited from that connection, which is now severed.”

How exactly did he benefit? Did he casually slip it into conversations during business deals? “By the way, my wife is banging Baranovsky. Your money is safe with me.” Ugh.

“It would take someone of equal social standing to get Baranovsky’s attention. House Harrison isn’t one of those families. I do apologize; I don’t mean to be rude. I simply want to make the matter as clear as possible. Primes aren’t like us.”

I glanced at Rogan. His face was stoic.

“They breathe the same air and drink the same water, but their power sets them firmly apart and that’s the way they like it. The gulf between them and a normal person is enormous. You’re an attractive woman, so perhaps with the right attire and a trip to the salon, you might get to his personal secretary. Personally I would go through Diana Harrison. Cornelius’ sister is a Prime, which does mean something even to the likes of Baranovsky, so he may condescend to a meeting. In any case, please let Cornelius and Diana know that I’ll be happy to assist House Harrison in any way possible.”

Five minutes later we made it outside. His wife was dead and all Antonio could think about was how it would affect his social standing. What a colossal asshole.

“The right attire and a trip to the salon?” I rolled my eyes, heading for the car. “I may have to break my piggy bank.”

“That right there is why I don’t socialize,” Rogan said.

“It’s good that we had him explain all this to us. I feel so unprepared. I had no idea I had to have the right outfit before I talked to a Prime. You should’ve given me a list of what was appropriate to wear. I hope you’re not offended.”

I turned and suddenly Rogan was there. I stepped back on pure instinct and my back bumped against the car. All of the ice in his eyes had melted. They were hot, inviting, seducing. He was thinking of sex and that sex prominently featured me.

“I’m not offended.”

His big muscular body caged me in. He focused on me as if the rest of the world didn’t even exist. When he looked at you like that, he made you feel like you were the most important person in the universe. Every word you said mattered to him. Every gesture you made was vital. It was devastating. I wanted to keep talking and doing things to keep him focused on me just like that.

“I don’t care how you come to see me.” His voice was casual, almost lazy. “You can come in a suit. You can come in jeans.”

He was just screwing around with me now. Well, maybe it was time to take some of that power back from him.

“You can come wrapped in a towel. You can come naked. Really, it’s up to you. As long as you come, I don’t care.”

Aren’t you smug? I took a tiny step forward, raising my face as if to kiss him. “What if I don’t come at all?”

His voice dropped. “That would be a tragedy. I would use all of my power to prevent it.”

His eyes were so blue and they were making promises. All kinds of promises about being an outlaw in bed and doing things I would never forget. I looked right into them and tried my best to make some promises of my own.

“All of your powers?” If I leaned forward an inch, we would be touching. The space between us was so charged with tension, if we brushed against each other, we might spark. I was playing with fire.

“Yes.” His magic hovered around him, anticipating and eager, almost daring me to reach out.

“Are we still talking about clothes?” I asked.

“If you say so.”

He leaned forward and I put my finger on his lips and pushed him back. “No.”

His eyes narrowed. “No?”

I dropped my hand.

“Let’s see, you ask me to be your toy, I say no, you move on. You don’t call, you don’t write, you don’t come by. You make no effort to prove to me that you wanted anything more than some casual sex.”

His eyes darkened. “There would be nothing casual about it.”

I believed him, but it didn’t change my point. “You treated me like some cheap amusement.”

He leaned an inch closer. “I didn’t.”

I should’ve been alarmed, but I had too much emotion pent up to stop now.

“Rogan, do you know how little I mattered to you? You didn’t even want to go through the motions of dating me. You just wanted to skip all of it and get straight to sex. You made me feel this small.” I held my index finger and thumb apart about an eighth of an inch. “Have sex with me, Nevada. I’m not even going to pretend to want to know you better.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I offered you a chance to fight for a relationship and you didn’t take it. You clearly moved on. I did too.”

A muscle in his face jerked.

“And now that I’m conveniently here, you decide to give it another shot. Is there a shortage of attractive women in your life, Connor?”

“There is a shortage of you in my life,” he said.

“Really?”

“A critical shortage. One that must be immediately corrected.”

He was being deliberately vague. He couldn’t lie to me, so he resorted to making the kind of statements I’d have a hard time qualifying. You had to admire the man’s brain.

“Not interest—”

Rogan yanked me to him and jerked his hand up. My Mazda left the ground. A six-foot wide disk of crimson fire slashed into my car and exploded. Chunks of razor-sharp metal blades rained on both sides of us, trailing crimson and hissing. I sprinted for the massive oak behind us. Behind me the Mazda crashed onto the pavement with a metal clang.

I pressed my right shoulder against the bark and pulled the Glock out. Rogan landed next to me. Blood soaked his right thigh.

“You’re bleeding!”

“A scratch,” he growled. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

My heart pounded too loud and too fast. The bitter taste of adrenaline coated my tongue.

Something thudded into the tree on the right. I almost jumped.

Another thud.

I leaned forward carefully.

A smaller disk of crimson spun right at my face. I jerked back, colliding with Rogan. The wheel of magic whistled past me and sank into the ground, smoking. A metal star, a foot wide, with four double-edged razor-sharp points. Deep red magic boiled off its blades.