Ivan’s hand clenched. “You’re supposed to be my assistant. Your actions reflect on me.”
Nix clucked his tongue. “You’re the boss. What do you care what your driver thinks about you?”
“Appearances are important,” Ivan answered immediately, with the rehearsed tone of one repeating someone else’s words.
“True power lies in not caring what anyone else thinks,” Nix countered.
Ivan’s eyes opened the tiniest crack. “Did you see that embroidered on a throw pillow somewhere?”
“No throw pillows in the Void.” Nix pursed his lips in mock disappointment. “Or in your dreary office, for that matter. Is your apartment equally dreary?”
Ivan’s eyes closed again. “Yes.”
“Mm. Can’t wait.”
There it was again. At the very corner of Ivan’s lips. A little twitch. Nix knew it—there was definitely a sense of humor hiding in there somewhere.
Deep,deepin there.
Traffic kept them in the town car for quite a while, even though they didn’t seem to be covering much distance, but Nix let Ivan rest peacefully for the remainder of it. No doubt he was going to get straight to work once they got to their destination. He’d said as much, and Ivan didn’t seem the type to make idle threats.
Nix was a bit sad to leave the car when they got to their destination, as it meant Ivan’s hand finally slid off his leg. It wasn’t like Ivan had even been doing anything fun with it, but the weight of it had been…nice.
Maybe Ivan wasn’t the only one touch-starved.
They waltzed into the apartment building like they owned the place. (Ivan might actually own the place, for that matter.) The doorman nodded at Ivan respectfully, and Nix didn’t miss the bulge of the gun holster under his jacket.
Ivan’s gaze slid over to the man. “My assistant will be coming in and out,” he said, presumably talking about Nix. “Don’t give him any trouble.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nix gave the man a salute for good measure and was rewarded by Ivan grabbing his upper arm tightly, tugging him deeper inside.
Nix grinned at him. “You’re very grabby, did you know that?”
Ivan dropped Nix’s arm like it had burned him.
“I like it.” Nix sidled up close, grabbing Ivan’s arm instead. He was given a mighty glare, but if glares were enough to subdue him, Kai would have managed it centuries ago.
Ivan pressed the button for the top floor in the elevator. The penthouse. Of course. It was probably the only apartment on that level, wasn’t it? Just like his lonely office.
Ivan’s phone buzzed, and he slid it out of his suit jacket pocket, replacing it immediately without answering, but not before Nix saw the name.
“Who’s Sergei?” he asked, shaking Ivan’s arm lightly. “Is he ho—”
“My father’s right-hand man,” Ivan snapped. “Mine now.”
There was that surge of bitterness again, strong enough to fill the entire elevator.
“You know who your mole is, don’t you?” Nix asked softly.
“You’re very perceptive,” Ivan said coolly, his tone controlled once more. “Is that a sex worker thing?”
“You’re awfully mean when you’re cornered,” Nix countered as the elevator dinged, announcing they’d reached the top. He shifted back into his demon form, arching a brow at Ivan. “Is that a trauma thing?”
Ivan shook Nix’s arm off and stepped out of the elevator. Sure enough, it opened directly into a large apartment.
The place reminded Nix of Ivan’s office. High ceilings, big windows, steel beams and concrete, and not a piece of unnecessary decoration to be found.
