APEX

Ch. 14: Optics

"I'm sure it wasn't eight times."

"No, it was exactly eight times, Rhys. It was. Someone recorded it and put it online for all to see and I counted. That optic isn't going to do us any favors."

I pulled him into a hall that led to the restrooms. He raised an eyebrow, grasping my hand to hold it where I'd clutched at his shirt collar. "Maybe not, but this optic is definitely doing me favors." He stared down at the top of my blouse. My skin heated under his gaze as though his eyes were twin suns.

"For God's sake, Rhys," I said, determined to maintain my composure. "Can you not be sexual or make jokes for once in your life?"

"I can refrain from one or the other but not from both at the same time."

I pulled away, and he let me go, but not without caressing my arm as I brought it back to my side. I bit the inside of my cheek as I resisted responding to the sensations he'd invoked. "Tell me you aren't concerned about this."

He swallowed. "I can't tell you that. I am concerned. I also feel it was clear that the man at the bookstore was deranged and made the first move. He had a knife. He accidentally slashed a woman's arm when he was going for Aamon."

That woman had given an interview after the fact declaring her undying loyalty to Apex for Aamon's quick thinking, which had surely saved her life. "It was a pocketknife, not a cleaver. Who paid her to say that bullshit? Was it your father? Because he didn't save her. That man was trying to stab Aamon, and she got in the way. He wasn't going to kill her."

"You can't be completely sure of that. And besides, the truth doesn't matter. Like you said, it's optics that do, and optically speaking, she makes the self-defense and defense of others case for him. If anything, this incident is good for our family. It showed that Aamon was willing to endanger himself to protect a human."

"He couldn't have cared less about that woman. He was saving himself and having fun pummeling someone who posed no serious threat to him."

"Optics," he said as he walked backwards away from me. "We've got nothing to fear from this one."

"Is that why you wouldn't let me cross thirty feet from my car to the door on my own? Because we have nothing to fear?"

His face darkened. "I have to run an errand before our meeting with the marketing team." Without responding further, he left me alone, wondering why he had to be so evasive at a time when simple honesty could have made me so much more amenable to him.

The day flew by, filled with meetings, disagreeable brothers, and a flurry of emails from my staff at Crown asking me questions about litigation and territorial border disputes and a whole host of matters I wasn't supposed to be dealing with while I worked for Apex. I answered them as best I could because the reality was, there was no one else who would.

After receiving the fifth frantic email of the day, I began to wonder if Simone Bardot had checked herself into a spa to avoid dealing with Crown business. I had a chance to ask her over dinner that night at one of my family's favorite restaurants, the Howling Hound. Made up to look like a medieval pub, the Howling Hound's floorplan centered around a large open stone hearth with a weathered oak mantel. I sat beside my mother, my sister Arla, and my brother Spence across from us at a table near the fireplace, studying the dancing flames and trying not to let its smoky aroma remind me of Rhys as my sister talked about her high school softball team.

"Are you even listening to me, Calla?" Arla's tone took on the full indignation of her sixteen-year-old self.

"Of course, I am. You're hoping to make it to the state championship this year."