Brothers of Paradise Series

And he’s coming directly our way.

Faye

Elliot Ferris looks just like I remember him.Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

The sly eyes and the cravat, a glass of champagne in hand. No doubt it’s his third or fourth already. And he’s coming this way.

Asshole. He’d worked me ragged for years, making me compete with the other architects, all of us jockeying for position. I’d slaved over blueprints for him. Put his name on projects I’d designed. And worse than that… The Century Dome. A project he claims complete credit for when he couldn’t have designed that structure on his best damn day.

Because who did? Me. Without any recognition.

It takes every ounce of effort I have to lock down my body, to make my expression impassive, to hide the pure loathing I feel for this man.

He stops in front of us, lips pursed in consideration. “Henry Marchand,” he says slowly, “and Faye Alvarez. Now this I did not expect.”

“Elliot Ferris,” Henry says smoothly. His voice is courteous, but I can hear the layer of ice below. “Miss Alvarez works at my firm.”

Elliot’s eyebrows rise, and his eyes turn speculative. “Do you now, Miss Alvarez? How interesting.”

“It’s an excellent firm.”

“Yes, I’ve heard good things about your little firm, Marchand. Located somewhere uptown, right?” Elliot says with a smile. You’re not one of the big ones.

“Upper West Side, yes.”

“How’s your father? I haven’t seen him around much lately, but then, he never liked the New York scene.”

“He’s doing well.”

“Did you know that Miss Alvarez here used to work for me?” Elliot grins at Henry before winking at me, as if we share a secret. In some ways, I suppose we do. I’ve never told anyone about the Dome Project, and how his firm ended up getting it. I may hate this man, but I’m smart enough to be afraid of him, too.

“He knows,” I say shortly.

Henry’s gaze flashes down to mine. “Yes.”

“You showed some real promise, Faye. It’s a shame it didn’t work out for you at my company. I’m sure you could have gone far.” Elliot’s smile is patronizing, and I feel my cheeks flush with anger. That makes it not once-but twice-I’ve been spoken down to tonight, and that’s entirely two times too many.

“I was the-”

Henry cuts me off, and I swallow the insult I was stupidly about to throw at him. “Faye is an excellent architect, as I’m sure you know. Thank you for giving her a place to cut her teeth, Ferris, and for letting her go. I owe you one.”

Elliot’s hooded eyes narrow. If there is one thing I know he doesn’t like, it’s being outwitted-or worse, outclassed. And it’s clear that Henry has both in spades.

His smile turns snide. “Glad you see it that way. And you’ve clearly found her useful. Taking your staff to these events?” He winks at me again. “You would’ve protested if I’d have asked.”

I force myself to remain calm. “Well, it was never really clear at Ferris Properties what was work and what was play.”

They’re his own words-he once said the same to me-and he knows it. I see how amusement drains from his gaze to reveal nothing but pure hatred. I’m dangerous to him, and I’ve just reminded him of that.

Henry sees it too, because he cuts the interaction short.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Ferris. I trust I’ll see you around.” He speaks with cool indifference, the kind of dismissal it takes a lifetime to learn how to deliver, barely making eye contact.

Ferris hears it too. He’s a successful brute, but he’s no blue blood, and I don’t think he likes being reminded of that.

“Marchand,” he says tightly and walks away without another word to me.

I slowly release the breath I was holding. That was too close. And Henry was witness to all of it, to his words and insinuations, to the disparaging comments.

“Are you okay?” Henry asks, voice quiet. He’s steering me toward a stairwell.

“Yes,” I say, but I feel like I’m burning up inside. “How dare he? In front of you, as well? And what he insinuated about you and me, and about me and him… I would never. You must know that.”

“I do know it.”

“And you having to defend me and your choice to hire me.” I put my head in my hands, anger and shame making my skin hot to the touch. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid you’ve made an enemy tonight, through no fault of your own.”

And I know that Elliot Ferris doesn’t make for a particularly nice enemy.

Long fingers circle my wrists and gently, but forcefully, pull my hands away from my face. Henry’s skin is warm and dry to the touch.

“Faye, I have never once liked Elliot Ferris, and he has never liked me. That goes back to the rivalry between him and my father. You did not start that, all right?”

“Oh,” I say. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. And I defended my choice to hire you because it was the right choice. You don’t have to convince me of Elliot Ferris’s malpractice.”

“He really is an ass, isn’t he?”

Henry’s lips curve upwards again. I realize he’s standing close, far closer than usual, and his hands are still clasped around my wrists. “Yes, he really is.”

I swallow thickly. “Why are we by the stairs?”

Henry drops my hands and takes a step back. “I think it’s time we call it a night. But before we do, I want to show you something, so this night hasn’t been a complete bust for you. Have you ever been to this building before?”

“Many times.”

He looks amused at my tone. “But have you ever been to the roof?”

“No. That’s not open to the public, I think?”

“It most certainly isn’t. But we’re not members of the public, not tonight.” He starts heading up the stairs and looks down his nose at me. “We’re patrons of the arts.”

I can’t help but smile as I follow him up the stairs. It’s not hard to figure out what he’s doing. He wants to take my mind off of Elliot, of the past, of the whole interaction.

We reach the third floor. He’s not even winded, and despite my frequent fitness classes, I am. What does this man do to be in the shape he is?

“It’s up here.” He pauses at the corner of a hallway, peering around it. This high up, everything’s deserted. We walk through a gallery with Bronze Age plates.