Diamond Fire

Xavier was cute, but I had really liked Alessandro. I had liked him the first time I saw his picture. I had sat there for several minutes staring at it, not really thinking about anything at all. It was as if my brain had gone quiet. That almost never happened. And then I met him, and I knew there was no way.

“What did you need help with?” I asked.

“I need help with being beyond bored. You’re the only interesting person I’ve met. Let’s do something fun. You do have that here, don’t you?”

“I have to work.” You don’t know what you’re asking. If I have fun with you, it won’t end well for either of us.

“What will happen if you stop working for just a little while?” He shrugged. “Will the house fall down? Will Arrosa fire you? She can’t fire you—you’re the bride’s sister. Come on, at least walk with me. Am I really worse than working?”

No, he wasn’t worse than working; he was work. He was a potential source of information, one I had to explore. Or was it exploit?

“One second,” I said. I opened the chat window on my tablet and sent Rivera a quick text. Please change camera placement in Xavier’s suite. Rogan’s files pegged Xavier as a low-level Significant, which meant that when properly motivated, he could likely remove the smoke detector off the twelve-foot ceiling with his magic and examine it. I didn’t want to take a chance of him finding the camera.

The tablet pinged back. Got it.

“Okay.” I walked down the steps to the path. “I’m ready. But only until two o’clock.”

“What happens at two?” He asked.

“My sister will be presenting the catering menu to Mrs. Rogan and she might need backup.” Arabella did not need backup. Most of the time she was the backup, the field artillery, and the air support, but Nevada taught me to always have an exit strategy. I smiled at Xavier, trying to look enthusiastic. “Lead the way.”

We strolled down the path.

“Are you worried that guy is going to steal something?”

What? “No, all of the people I hired have been vetted.”

“You hired?” He let it hang.

“Yes, well, Arabella and I hired them. We ran an extensive background check, employment history, arrest history, and credit checks. Everyone on the grounds right now has references.”

Xavier’s nonchalant mask slid off for a second and he stared at me. “How do you know how to do this?”

“It’s my job. I work for our family business.”

“Yeah, I know. But I thought your family owned the business. I mean, you’re a kid like me. Why do they make you work? Are you that . . . poor?” He said the word like it was something dirty or shameful.

I hid a sigh. It wasn’t Xavier’s fault. He grew up with different standards. It didn’t make him better or worse than me, just different. “Nobody makes me work. I like it. Everybody in my family works for the agency. Even my grandmother, who has her own business, sometimes moonlights for us. It’s interesting. Sometimes I get to help people. And I never have to ask my mom for money. I get a paycheck, and nobody tells me what to do with it. How does it work for you?”

“We just always have money. If I need something or want something I use my allowance, if I don’t have enough, I ask my mom.”

“What do you do for your allowance?”

“What?”

“What do you do? Do you get good grades, do chores? Do you help around the house? Mow the lawn?” I winked at him.

“You’re teasing me,” he said, sounding slightly injured.

“Maybe a little. But seriously, how does it work in your family? I know that Rogan used telekinesis for a lot of military contracts his House has. Are your parents expecting you to use your magic for family business or are they harping about college at you too?”

Xavier shrugged. “I don’t think they care. My mother has been making University noises, but it’s like she does it because she thinks she has to. My father gets his money from family investments. I don’t remember them ever having jobs. Not the kind where they must be there all day. I wish they had jobs. It would get them out of the house.”

When I was in middle school, high school scared me to death. I had been homeschooled. So, I researched, and I stumbled onto How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie. I took two things away from that book: people liked to talk about themselves and people liked you when you agreed with them.

“Your parents hover, don’t they? I hate when adults do that.”

“Yes.” He snapped his fingers. “They hover. They don’t actually care, they just hang about. They only notice me, so they can drag me to some family bore-fest.”

“You didn’t want to come to the wedding?” I opened my eyes wide in mock surprise.

“No, I wanted to have the house to myself.”

“Yes, I get it. To be honest, I don’t feel comfortable here, but then I am a poster girl for monachopsis.”

“What?”

“Monachopsis. It means a subtle but nagging feeling of not fitting in and knowing that you don’t belong in the place you are. This house is too much. Too big, too many rooms. I didn’t grow up wealthy.”

“My family has money, but I don’t feel comfortable here either.” His eyes sparked. His face turned animated, like he was about to ride a roller coaster. “There is wealth. This is Wealth. Capital w . Do you know, Rogan is worth $1.27 billion? And there’s no prenup. Your sister is going to get half of that. If he dies, she gets all of that.”

Well, that got morbid fast.

Xavier smiled. “Good time to suck up, huh?”

I thought of telling him how Nevada was paying for her own wedding dress, but he wouldn’t get it.

“You’re right. Better be nice.”

So far nothing about this conversation made Xavier appealing. He might have been simply uncomfortable talking to me and was trying to say things to impress me, but it was coming out wrong. I had been there.

“Is it true your sister is a Truthseeker Prime?” he asked.

“Yes.” Unlike my and Arabella’s powers, Nevada’s was now public record. Both Arabella and I were registered as Primes, but our records were sealed.

“So, you can’t lie to her. Like at all?”

“You can but she’ll know.” Now was a good time. “Is your family nervous that she’s marrying Rogan? Not a lot of families would welcome a Truthseeker.”

“She’s making them squirm.” He grinned. “Your sister walks into the room, and everyone shuts up. Every time Grandma Ane sees her, her face turns green. Cousin Mikel just runs away. I love it.”

He hadn’t really answered my question.

The path brought us to the front of the house. Two girls my age stood by the fountain, talking. One was tall and blonde, the other was curvier with dark, almost black hair. A third girl, dressed in white, her brown hair braided over her left shoulder, sat on the rim of the fountain typing on her phone. The tall blonde was Gracia’s oldest daughter, Adriana; the one with very dark hair was either Samanta or Malina, one of Lucian and June’s daughters. They looked so similar, it was hard for me to tell them apart. The girl on the phone was Mikel and Maria’s daughter. Like her mother, Elba dressed in white and liked gold jewelry.

Adriana and Samanta—I was 75 percent sure she was Samanta—waved. Adriana noticed me and her eyes narrowed. Samanta looked uncomfortable.

“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to talk to the help?” Elba asked without looking up from her phone.

Well, hello to you too, Ms. Bitch. I smiled.

“Does your dad know that?” Xavier asked. “How many people has he paid off now—is it three or four? We’ve all lost count.”

“Que te folle un pez ,” Elba said.

I hope you get fucked by a fish? What did that even mean? Their Spanish was different from what I was used to in Texas, but I understood it well enough.

Xavier put his arm around me and I had to stop myself from driving my elbow into his ribs. I did not like to be touched. Especially by people I didn’t know. He did it in a protective way, but I still didn’t like it.