That was all in the past. His mood since had turned foul.
The Goblin stronghold had been abandoned. There had been no one to question. The enchanted shackles had vanished without a trace. Urien’s media blitz had been pretaped. He had been long gone by the time they got someone to investigate the interview site, and nobody could pinpoint the whereabouts of the bastard. Those investigating the trail from Pia’s ex-boyfriend and his bookie had come up against a dead end. And the stock value from the companies in Illinois continued to tumble.
There was also the not-so-small consideration that if the Fae King had been able to conjure a spell that had found his hoard, then the location was compromised. Didn’t matter if the charm had only worked once and Pia was the only one who knew of the hoard’s present location. Urien could make another charm, couldn’t he? And maybe Pia was the only one right now who could navigate through Dragos’s locks and wards, but once something had been breached it was just a matter of time until someone else found a way to do it again.
There was also no telling what else a finding charm of that strength would work on. He thought about warning his Elder allies about what had happened, but if he did that he would have to admit to his own vulnerability. He wasn’t willing to go that far just yet.
On top of all that, the Chinese water torture had started as soon as he strode into his office.
The New York mayor was demanding to talk to him. No one else would do. His constituents were insisting they come to an agreement on noise control so that last week never happened again. Drip.
The governor of Illinois called personally to talk about his persecution of the RYVN partnership. Drip.
The Elder tribunal had issued a summons to him to discuss his “act of aggression” in Elven demesne, and allegations of an Other land Fae mass murder. Apparently they had decided to ignore the fact that he didn’t answer summons from anyone, ever. Drip.
A personal courier had already arrived from the Elven High Lord, with a written invitation for Pia to visit with them at the summer solstice. Just Pia, nobody else. Certainly not him. The High Lord would be pleased to lift the trade embargo with the Wyrkind as soon as he received her acceptance. In writing. Drip fucking drip.
Then there were the endless business decisions on everything else. His administrative assistants and management teams were excellent. Everything that reached his office really did need his direct attention. As a norm, he enjoyed working with all the international ventures pursued by Cuelebre Enterprises. It was like playing several games of chess at once. But today it felt like wearing tight clothes over abraded skin. He wanted to tear it all off of him and claw at the walls.
He paced. He couldn’t stop thinking about Pia. There she was, front and center, no matter what else he tried to turn his mind to. He didn’t want to be working on all this shit. Business was boring. Who gave a flying fuck if stocks in the six Illinois companies tanked for a while? It’s not like he needed the money. All of the entities clamoring for attention were like a pack of yapping Chihuahuas nipping at his heels. The thought of finding another secret location and moving all his treasure was a serious pain in his ass.
And why couldn’t someone just FedEx him Urien’s head?
He planted his hands on the window and leaned on them as he stared out over his city. When he had asked her last night if she was interested in Tricks’s PR job, caution had stolen the sparkle from her beautiful gaze like a thief.
She had said, I’ll have to think about it. Again. Just like she had yesterday when she’d told him, I guess I’ve got a lot to think about.
What the fuck did she have so much to think about?
She looked at him with desire in those gorgeous midnight-colored eyes. He would swear when she hugged him it was with sincere affection. She was generous and giving and held nothing back physically. He could make himself crazy at just the thought of how tight she felt when he was inside her, how gorgeous she was when she climaxed. He hardened as he remembered the sounds she made when they made love.
He was astonished at how easy she was to talk to, how much he wanted to talk to her, and fighting with her was the best fun he’d ever had. He had seen her just hours ago, goddammit, and he couldn’t wait to fight with her again, to talk with her and hear what ridiculous thing she said next, to cuddle and laugh with her, to pin her down and drive into her again until there was nothing left inside of him, nothing left inside of her except his name.
She was his. Why couldn’t she admit it?
Whenever they got to that point, whenever he thought he had a good grip on her, it felt like the beguilement dream when she had turned into smoke and melted through his fingers.