Disaster Follows

12 - Scylla

“Great. Didn’t you make a hotel reservation or something?” mumbled Carlo when he saw him step into his office.

“I figured you and I needed to talk about what happened earlier, Armantini,” Matthew shrugged. “And no, no hotel reservation.”

They looked at each other in silence. Carlo was frowning, but made no attempt to give the earlier punch back. Maybe he thought he’d actually deserved it. Then he saw him smirk. Maybe not.

“Well according to our Law I can’t kick you out,” Carlo sighed, getting up as he handed a stack of papers to his secretary. “Make sure Ramos gets this by yesterday, Maria,” he told her.

“Yes, sir.”

The woman left them alone as Matthew barely retained a smirk. “Do I want to know?”

Armantini laughed. “I thought it was pretty obvious. She wasn’t the perfect secretary when she first stepped through the door, you know.”

Matthew’s eyes blazed. “Do tell me then, is that what you were planning w—”

“Not at all, Killian,” he said as he got up to face him. “I merely set rules so protecting her wouldn’t be so difficult. Obviously, she’s proved me wrong so many times…” he scratched the back of his head. “Nanga Parbat is off-limits and she wouldn’t get it. She ruined whatever chance she had of Palvin liking her,” he sighed.

“Palvin isn’t the only one on the High Order.”

“No, but he’s the influential one.”

“He’ll come around.”

“No, he won’t. She’s a half-breed, Killian. Half-breeds have no rights.”

Matthew breathed deep before deciding that comment needed an answer. “She’s just a girl.”

“Fine. Half-breed girl. Which is the same,” Carlo shrugged as he poured two drinks for them. “You punched me over a half-breed.”

“I did what any person with some common sense would have done if they’d seen you about to harm a girl. Any girl.”

“Last time I checked, a slap hadn’t killed anyone,” Armantini replied with annoyance.

“You survived my punch.”

“So you like her.”

Matthew blinked and then decided he would not say another word, as he drank his glass at once.

“The Reapers have become quite good spies, Ashcroft. They managed to send her a winter sphere with your house on it via Fed-Ex and she thou—no, we thought—you’d sent it. She didn’t even recognise it was your house in it until I mentioned it.”

“That’s what set off the portal that night?”

Carlo nodded. “You should be happy it happened with me around. That sphere would’ve stayed in her office hadn’t I taken it for a previous study.”

Matthew’s stomach growled before he could answer. “Armantini, you need to feed me.”

“I’m not your mother, and there’s a McDonald’s round the block.”

“Real food.”

“Ashcroft, tru—”

“Feed me.”

Armantini set his glass with a large growl. “Lord, you’re even more insufferable than our Miss Montaño,” he rolled his eyes, putting on his coat. “Come, my chef has already prepared our dinner.”