“Josh has an overactive imagination.” I smile.
She stiffens. Her gaze goes glassy, almost animal—like she’s listening for a sound only she can hear. “Josh has been…” Her voice drops again. “He’s different up here.”
Her eyes flick around the room, nervous. I don’t quite catch the warning in her expression before she flinches, startled by the sudden presence of Ben’s massive form approaching behind me.
“Oh, Dru, this is my husband, Dr. Iku,” I say.
Ben offers her a nod, his gaze lingering on me for a moment too long, as if he’s trying to measure something—my resolve, maybe. His eyes flick over to Josh, who came rushing in from the kitchen. A dish towel is slung over his shoulder, and his face is flushed.
He seems…different. Smaller.
“Fawl! You’re late, but, stars, you look good enough to eat.” His voice drops a register. “Ben.”
Josh leans closer to me “God, the aboveground has been so good to your skin.” He reaches over and runs his thumb across my upper arm. My muscles stiffen beneath the clamminess of his fingers.
Ben moves in without hesitation, placing his hand exactly where Josh touched me, like he’s wiping it clean.
Warmth.
Possession.
A quiet, simmering claim.
Dru sighs but never looks up from tossing the meager salad she’s prepared.
Josh moves in front of me and blocks our path to the seats. “How about drinks first?” He motions toward the stained cushions of the couch instead of the dining chairs. “Fawl and I have so much to catch up on. Ten years is a long time to love a person,” Josh says, and Dru freezes with her hands over the salad.
“Indeed,” Ben says, “and then to leave her so unceremoniously… Why, it must have torn you up inside.” The edge in his tone is unnerving. And he moves emphatically toward the dining room. His warm palms are at the small of my back.
Okay, we don’t need chair-throwing Ben. I give him a look.We need this idiot please be nice, I say through a series of blinks.
“The world really is upside down.” Josh says affably. “To think, a simple mine woman married to a machine.”
You could hear a rat piss on cotton in this room.
I jump when Dru slaps the salad down, and a little piece of overripe tomato flops onto the table.
“Fawlisn’ta simple mine woman, Josh. She is a Diamond,” Dru says.
“If she werenota Diamond, she would still not be a simple mine woman,” Ben says.
I glance over at Josh to find him staring daggers at Dru.
Ben pulls out my chair, which wobbles slightly beneath his hands. I sit down, and all four of us stare at each other with questioning expressions. This dinner, only thirty minutes in, already feels three days long.
Josh’s big fake smile falters—just a flicker, but it’s enough. He didn’t anticipate this. He assumed, like so many others, that I’m a throwaway fetish. I think of Ben’s fine linen jacket soiled and ruined in the filthy chair.
We need Josh at the Council Gala on Saturday. Not just him—as many people from the half city as we can drag there. Ben’s future depends on it. We need testimony, need to fill the room with proof that he’s not some unhinged, rogue idealist, but a man of reason, a man of logic, a man still worth listening to. This is the point. We have to focus.
I turn on my brightest, most affable voice. “Josh, we have an amazing invitation for you and Dru!”
That gets his attention.
I lean in, push forward. “We’d love for you to come to a superelite gala.” His brows lift. Good. “And we’d also love for you to share your thoughts on Ben with some important people.”
Josh’s face flattens. The intrigue evaporates.
“Why would anyone there care whatIthink?” he asks, dry. “I mean, Ben doesn’t have any peers who could vouch for him?”
