Chapter Text
——
The moon hung high overhead and Damen cursed the silvery light that blanketed the rooftops. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be able to get the job done, but he thrived in the darkness. He loved the all-consuming empty of it all and how it made him feel so centered with his work.
Jokaste never liked it. It wasn’t her. She was always better in the glitz and glam of the society parties where they would not only take down a villain in cold blood but would be dressed to kill. Well, she had liked that. That was long gone. It had been 6 months since her death and yet Damen was still feeling the lingering effects. Like fingerprints left behind, invisible traces of her were always there. And that’s why he clung to the dark. There was less to think about when his past wasn’t all illuminated.
He moved deftly through the hallways, following Makedon’s directions until he got to the 46th floor. Damen slipped the scanner copier that Makedon had given him out of his jacket pocket and pressed it to the identification pad next to the door. With one quick beep and a green light, he was through.
In a matter of minutes, he had taken the vial sample and copied the files he needed and was out of there. An engrained muscle memory, his body moved automatically, without thought. As he hit crisp night air on the roof, he grabbed the hidden paraglide that had been tucked away behind some vents. Damen attached it to his body and jumped off, the sharp wind pricking his face as he glided silently away.
“I’m on my way to the extraction point,” Damen announced, the confirmation buzzing sharply in his earpiece.
This was his favorite type of job. The kind that was direct and quick. In and out and no need to put on a false front or make unnecessary small talk. Methodical and by the book, this is where Damen thrived. And in a way, he finally had a bit of closure. The tiny vial zipped safely into his vest was the final piece of Jokaste’s last job with him. With this done, maybe he could finally move on. He had always preferred to work alone anyway, he told himself. In solitude and in control. With other people involved, there were outliers and unexpected decisions. With her gone…his work could go back to normal. Yes, it was for the best, Damen told himself as he disappeared into the night.
——
Damen tugged at the stiff collar of the starched white shirt. How different this was to his smash and grab from the other week. To play this part, his dark charcoal custom suit fit just so. He was a certain type of banker this evening and it would be a dark day when one of this caliber would be caught wearing off the rack. With a final sweeping hand through his perfectly coiffed curls, he skipped up the steps. Handing his invitation to the harried staff at the entrance, he walked into the foyer.
Berenger’s place didn’t look anything as Damen thought it would. It was ornate and old-fashioned, but an overwhelming, overwrought style. From everything he knew about Berenger, this seemed off character. It must be coming from someone else. The dossier from HQ had mentioned a possible romantic and business partner. It had explained that the file Damen was to procure was in a safe somewhere in Berenger’s office on the second floor. However before that, Damen also wanted to see the man. He wanted to meet him and glean what he could from his own assessment. Files could get you so far but Damen was a damned good spy because he always trusted his own instinct. He swallowed thickly. That was something he had learned from Jokaste. Amidst a case, she trusted her own eyes and her gut above all else. It was the mark of a great spy and she had taught that to Damen.
The crowd in the main room was all subdued chatter. That old money kind that operated on hushed tones and quiet sips of champagne. Damen glided across the thick crimson carpet, scanning the room. Before he was even two steps in, a nondescript waiter in black and white approached with a tray of drinks. Two additional steps forward and another approached with some light canapes. This kind of seamless service revealed the wealth behind it. There must be big money involved to attain a party of this nature.
Nibbling on a dressed crab canape, Damen scanned the room with a well-trained eye. He thought he recognized a few relatively innocuous financiers that had surfaced in recent years after some risky but rewarding investments. The agency kept a casual eye on them but they weren’t anything like a Berenger.
Finally, in a quiet corner, Damen spied the mogul sitting, surprisingly alone, save a cut crystal glass with four generous fingers of whisky. His focus was on the other corner and Damen found himself following that focused eyeline. It was opposite of where Berenger sat, yes, but it was also completely opposite in every possible way. While he sat alone, the other corner was rowdy and boisterous. In the center was an extremely handsome young man, laughing and cooing surrounded by a gaggle of well-dressed, good-looking admirers. He was dressed in a jade silk suit that sparkled and caught the light with even the faintest movements. The green brought out the matching hue in his eyes and beautifully offset the rich ginger coiffure.
From Berenger’s covetous gaze, Damen assumed the ginger must be the partner that was mentioned in the file. Damen wondered why Berenger was alone. He was the most powerful person in this room, or wasn’t he? Approaching easily, Damen cleared his throat to catch the attention of his target.
“Good evening, Mr. Berenger? Theo Delfeur. I work for Thrace Holdings?”
“Ah, yes.” The man stood and Damen noticed just how big he was. He wasn’t miles taller than Damen but with his strong build, he came off as an imposing figure. He shook with a firm grip and his simple brown suit clung to his trim but built body.
“Another banker,” Berenger smiled wanly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Despite his best attempts, his tone was pure ice, a solid piece yet dangerously sharp. It could cut someone if they weren’t careful. “Thrace…Thrace…You sent my office something about an investment, didn’t you?”
Damen smiled a thin smile back, doing his best to keep his appearance as innocent as possible. “Yes, that was me, I’m afraid. We’re excited about the work you’re doing in Vask. My company is very interested and would like to contribute a financial stake.”
“Are you? What about the work excites you, Mr. Delfeur? Or is it the significant returns you’ll get from it?”
Before Damen could snap subtly back with a smart reply, someone else interrupted.
“Oh, Mr. Berenger, I’m so happy to have found you!” Berenger’s glance adjusted to just over Damen’s shoulder and where the giddy voice was coming from.
Damen stepped to the right, finding where his mark’s eye had landed. A slim buttercup blond stood with his hands in the pockets of his cobalt blue jacquard suit. Although not the same as the green silk, something about how the man wore it made it seem to sparkle more than the material probably should have. He had to look twice because in the trick of the light, he saw a flicker of Jokaste. Perhaps it was just the similar coloring but the confident air of how the man carried himself reminded him so much of her.
“I hope I’m not interrupting. I was being so nosy and I confess I was desperate to meet you.”
He flashed a brilliant smile before his eyes flicked to assess Damen who was somewhat stunned by his incredibly attractive yet unreadable face. In those quick few seconds, Damen got nothing. It was a pride of his —and part of his job— to be able to glean salient details within seconds. Here, it was like staring at a wall. A beautiful albeit blank wall. And that was something that concerned him. An average person could not be this good. And again for not the first time today, Jokaste flicked to the forefront of his brain. She had been exactly like this when they first met. A young confident new recruit plucked straight from training. She had been an enigma to him until…Damen cracked his neck, attempting to compose himself. Now was not the time for reminiscing.
Before the blond could speak again, the boisterous ginger appeared as if by magic, tucking himself between Berenger’s arm. His other hand, alight with several gem-laden rings, reached up to smooth out the already perfectly ironed material across the large man’s chest, remaining there splayed. He had marked his territory and everyone there knew it.
“Darling, so sorry, I stepped away. And…? Who do we have here?” He questioned, drolly, the light smile unreaching his rapidly blinking eyes. In that way, the pair were a perfect match.
“Ancel, pet, this here is Mr. Delfeur, a banker. And, I don’t think we’ve met…” he gestured to the blond, a standoffish wave with no indication that the latter’s charms had worked on him.
“We haven’t. Laurent DeVere.” He reached out a hand to grasp Berenger’s as Ancel’s eyes went venomously emerald at their touch. If Laurent had noticed the jealous ginger’s look, he ignored it. Laurent turned next to Damen with an outstretched hand, the same wide smile baring perfect teeth that would have made a lesser man melt.
“Theo,” Damen smiled mirthlessly, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone. He had cornered Berenger on his own but was now finding himself contending with this influx of added attention. Damen wondered if Laurent’s appearance hadn’t triggered Ancel to bound over. Berenger seemed to be completely immune to it, or if anything, perhaps he was satisfied that his partner was adequately compelled to return. He remained unfazed as he demurely sipped his whiskey, the brown liquid growing smaller and smaller.
“I don’t think I saw you on the guest list,” Ancel purred, each syllable seemingly delicate and harmless but in reality, laced with a sharply poisonous edge that could kill a man if he wasn’t careful.
“Correct, I wasn’t,” Laurent said wryly, dodging the daggers, with no apparent guilt at all. In fact, he seemed hardly flustered that his charms did not seem to be working. “I just heard about Mr. Berenger’s party here and I couldn’t miss such a chance for a meeting.”
“It’s our party, yes. But the more the merrier as they say.”
Damen saw through his veiled smile as his flashing eyes were daggers. Berenger seemed laid back and happy for Ancel to carry on, apparently aware of the building tension but unwilling or unwanting to do anything about it.
“Splendid. I would love to interview you, Mr. Berenger. Your story and dizzying —if i may add— ascent into the business world is incredible. The people are so interested to know more about the man behind the company. If you allow me…”
Cutting in, Damen tried to refocus the conversation, regain control of the moment. “Ahem, so as I was saying before, I would love the opportunity to speak to you more in depth about the Vaskan investment…”
“Oh no, you aren’t actually going to talk about business, are you?” Laurent’s mock astonishment was represented by an irritating grin. “What a bore for a party, don’t you think? Mr Berenger, shall we refresh your drink? What a coincidence: I see your glass is empty and so is mine.” The words flooded out in a singsong stream as he gestured an outstretched arm toward the bar.
Damen’s building annoyance boiled over as the pretty blond turned to wink at him as he watched Laurent lead his own mark to the bar. If he didn’t know better, this was Jokaste reincarnated.
Ancel, not completely satisfied that the potential threat was contained, remained frozen as he watched the pair with a locked gaze.
“You’re his boyfriend, right?” Damen asked tentatively.
“I prefer ‘partner’ but yes. Poor guy isn’t really into parties or socializing. It’s more my thing. As is reading people. But that’s why we work well together: he handles the business, I handle the relationships. If you want to be a part of the Vaskian development, it’s me you have to charm, not him.” Ancel’s eyes flashed dangerously even as they never moved away from his Berenger’s.”
“I see. My apologies. At your convenience, I would like to discuss a significant contribution to the venture.”
The ginger’s eyes flicked to give Damen a once over. It rested on his broad shoulders and the curve of his waist, flattered by the cut of his jacket. “You’re cute. I like your persistence,” he said as their eyes met. “I’m not sure we need anyone else but I’ll be in touch. In any case, it won’t be tonight.”
Ancel emptied the last of his champagne and a server appeared instantly to scoop up the empty coupe. Finally, he seemed satisfied that Laurent’s intentions with his partner were innocent enough and with the barest of nods to Damen, he floated back to his group. Nevertheless, while he was drinking and engaging his entourage, Damen could see his eyes continue to follow the pair as they stood by the bar.
Left standing alone, Damen sighed. Fine. So, he wouldn’t have a chance to gain any other intel. It was enough. He could see that Berenger was a deliberate sort of man, and that Ancel wasn’t simply a trophy. From the way Berenger looked at him, perhaps there was a little of that but Ancel also had his value, could handle the people part. It would make things more difficult for Damen and he made a mental note on these relevant details that he could use in his report.
After a few more minutes, Berenger signaled and he and Ancel moved to the middle for a little speech. It was the optimum time for him to make a move and Damen set down his drink and took the distraction to slip upstairs. There would be no better time than when everyone was preoccupied. Even the guard that had been hovering near the foot of the stairs had stepped closer for a better view.
Damen’s feet were all practiced silence across the plush carpeting. The upstairs were a dark mahogany flooring bedecked with a deep green floral runner. Now in hindsight, Damen could confidently confirm that the decor was definitely from Ancel. Seeing the lurid outfit compared to the drab brown, he could see where the opulence came from. From the decor of the house alone, it was quite clear that the ginger had much more influence than the agency had originally suspected. Damen made a mental note for Don to run him.
The third door on the left was the office just as Makedon said it would be. He gave a silent thanks that his tech was extremely thorough: one of the best in the business. With a quick look around, Damen slipped in and pressed the door shut. This office was starkly different from the rest of the place. It was all clean lines and simple furniture. The walls had the same wainscotting, yet painted white and a subdued pale golden damask wallpaper but the floor was bare and the simple ash desk was all right angles. Even without Makedon’s briefing, Damen knew instantly this was Berenger’s office, his space.
Where would the safe be? Damen looked around. The matching credenza had a simple stand for whisky on top and a few books. Other than that, there were a couple chairs flanking the desk and a simple armchair in the corner.
Ah, but of course.
Damen quickly strode over to the large artwork of a gray churling sea behind the desk. Carefully, he slid the liquor tray to the side of the credenza to give him more room to work. Slipping his hands slowly around the edges, he felt a small notch and heard a gentle click. With that, he swung the frame open to reveal a Phoenix 3460 safe. One of the top of the line professional grade safes. Regular people didn’t have these unless they had something to hide.
It would have been near impossible to crack but luckily for Damen, it was numeric. Most people would have updated to biometric but Damen wasn’t surprised in the least that Berenger was a bit more old school. He stared at the keypad, as if he could somehow glean the password.
“Well, this doesn’t look like the bathroom.”
Damen’s blood froze like ice in his veins as he paused with his code-cracking gadget held up against the Phoenix. It remained suspended, held aloft as he turned slowly toward the door.
It was Laurent.
His eyes danced with glee to catch Damen in this uncompromising position.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Damen growled, low in his throat.
“And nor should you. But if you want to sit here debating, be my guest.” Laurent moved forward swiftly, lightly, ducking under Damen’s still outstretched arm to nestle dangerously close. He perched on the edge of the credenza, like he was side-saddle on a horse with his legs tucked neatly beneath him. A pleasantly fresh smell of neroli and citrus reached Damen’s nose as his golden strands tauntingly swept over Damen’s chest, still heaving from the adrenaline. Before Damen could ask what he was doing, Laurent raised a slim finger to the pad.
0-5-2-4
BEEP!
The door swung open.
Completely astonished, Damen sputtered, “How did you??”
“How did I figure out the combination? While you were going on and on about boring investments, I was actually getting to know the guy. That is the date he met that garish pet of his.”
As Damen gathered his wit from the chaos of the last minute, Laurent’s fingers combed through the pile and reached for the thin black leather bound notebook from inside. He knew exactly what Damen was looking for.
He leapt off the credenza and set the book down where he had previously sat and opened it. “Well?” The blond head turned and stared. His azure gaze was glacial but Damen felt feverish as his skin prickled with heat. “Aren’t you going to make copies of this?”
Laurent pulled a thin pen-like device from his jacket pocket and started scanning each of the pages. Damen managed to pull himself together and pulled out his own scanner and followed suit. As soon as they were done, Laurent slipped the book back in the safe exactly where they found it and carefully closed the picture frame. With Laurent’s pale hand still on the frame, Damen heard the barely perceptible click of the door and Laurent instantly turned and pushed him down. Damen’s back was digging into the edge of the wood as a voice barked from the entrance to the room.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?”
Laurent had somehow so quickly maneuvered the two of them. He had twisted his arm around Damen’s neck and with his other hand clutched his collar. He had pulled him so close that Damen could see the iridescent flecks of gold in his irises. In his haste, a stray golden strand fell over his forehead. His heart quickened and Damen cursed his body. It had been months since he had been with someone —even anything more innocuous— and Laurent’s closeness unhelpfully roused his dormant libido. The last had actually been Jokaste and even that was a casual pairing of convenience. No need to explain the sudden departures or calls in the dead of night. Yet this unmoored feeling was different, the urgency was something he had never experienced before.
Damen was relieved to find Laurent’s pulse beating just as quickly through his wrist as their foreheads nearly touched. For a second, they were suspended in time and their eyes met. Blue on brown, a game of chicken, until Damen could no longer bear it and looked away.
“Do you mind??” Laurent said with a sharp giggle that for as little as Damen knew of him, he could easily tell was fake.
“This is Mr. Berenger’s office. You’re not supposed to be in here. How did you even get in?”
“Oops! We were just trying to find a place to…well, you know.” Laurent winked at the guard, brushing his suit down and straightening his collar. “Our bad.”
He peeled himself off of Damen, their eyes meeting in something unspoken. He brushed an imaginary dust speck off of Damen’s shoulder, his hand lingering a beat too long. Leaning in once more toward the still frozen Damen, he murmured into his ear, “Thanks for the entertaining evening. I’ll be seeing you.”
With a hand casually combing through his hair, he strolled out past the surprised guard with a casual wave. Damen composed himself a second later and quickly rushed out after him with a mumbled apology to the flabbergasted guard.
Stiffly, as if his limbs no longer worked, Damen left through the kitchens and to his extraction point. He hooked his finger into the collar and pulled forcefully, desperate to let the cool night air in. The vestige from Laurent’s touch lingered tauntingly. The ghostly imprint of Laurent's body on his skin, the warm breath that had drifted across his neck — they followed him like a persistent shadow.
Who was this guy anyway? As far as Damen knew, he was the only one on this case. Was Laurent from a rival firm? Nik would have told him and he hadn’t entertained this idea until now but his ability to ward off Damen’s attempts to read him sort of confirmed it. It was infuriating how he had been there every step of the way. It was annoying he had bested Damen to the files and Damen now somehow owed him. Damen channeled his competitive nature, stoking it bigger. He wanted it to spread, like a wildfire through him. He wanted it to fuel him, keep him on task and forget whatever else that was in the office. This was the kind of energy that kept Damen ticking. Anyway, it was over. The bottom line was he got the documents. His job was done. He could forget the nuisance little blond.
——
Damen strolled into headquarters the next day feeling fresh and much calmer. A large whisky and a good night sleep had refocused him from the night before. He entered the nondescript building, molded, for disguise, just like the countless boutique hedge funds on the street. Damen nodded to the reception desk, whose sole job was to turn away unwanted guests. He took the elevator the short ride to the 3rd floor where the uncompromising style was all light wood and stainless steel. He pressed his hand on a biometric scanner and went through an unmarked metal panel.
“Morning, Erasmus.”
A cheeky smile emerged from the young guy behind the desk. His hazel eyes danced as he teased Damen. “Sounded like some party last night. Makedon got into the security system.”
Damen furrowed his brow in mock reprimand. “Don’t you guys have anything better to do on a Friday evening than sit at work?”
Honeyed ringlets bobbing, Erasmus laughed a tinkling laugh that always rubbed Damen a little bit. He was fine in their limited interactions and arguably good at his job but his joyful optimism and carefree style clashed with Damen’s orderly one.
“Oh hon, don’t worry. There was wine,” He winked, his eyes still sparkling. “He’s ready for you though, you can go in.”
Damen walked through the padded door next to Erasmus’ desk and entered the familiar solemn office. It was the same light wood and metal stylings of the building but this one had a slightly softer touch with black leather furnishings and a plush white fur rug. An icy white blond sat in one of the Barcelona chairs that faced opposite the desk.
“Damen,” Nik acknowledged without looking up. He gestured to the empty chair. Damen sat down, glancing over at the other individual who nodded politely. Damen had never seen him before and their meetings were usually private but he knew better than to question it.
The hardened spymaster sat leaned over a file bound in their traditional dark red covers. He must have been handsome once, and he still was but in a rugged way. His hair had a deep silver streak woven into the wavy brown hair that was tucked neatly behind his ears and the lines set in his olive face were permanent.
He kept reading, apparently unbothered that two people were waiting on him. However, Damen knew better. He sat quietly, staring idly at a spot on the desk, his finger tapping absentmindedly until finally, the other man spoke.
“Well, this all makes for interesting reading.” There was no pretense or pleasantries. The two men had worked with each other for years and had known each other even longer.
Damen waited for his boss to work through the rest of the report. He was a man of few words and always let his thoughts ruminate before speaking. At this stage, Damen knew the drill.
“So this report confirms what we already thought. Berenger is working with a Vaskian splinter group.”
The yet to be identified man, in a clipped Veretian accent, added, “We have had reports of a building uprising. An all-male faction led by one who calls himself simply Janik, that is unhappy with the current government. Berenger is helping them depose the popular long-running matriarch for a male ruler.”
Damen studied the man, his seasoned look the same as Nik’s, one that had clearly seen years of espionage and had experienced the weight of working in the shadows that came with it. He had the same silver fox-like handsomeness as Nik, even with the long scar scrawled jaggedly down the side of his face.
Damen crossed his leg and sat back. “So, Berenger provides the weapons and gets a dictator in his pocket. Handy.”
“The Ver-Tan Patriarchy, as they are calling themselves, have created a fervor over taking back the country and they are willing and desperate. As you can imagine, this affects multiple parties. And that’s why Auguste is here.” Nik gestured to the man who extended a hand to Damen.
“Pleasure. I think both our organizations have a lot of interested parties to protect and it’s best if we work together on this.”
With a curt smile, Damen turned back to his own superior, looking for a reply. He was thorough, calculated and a damn good spy. Jokaste had been an unwelcome change and her introduction had meant to be temporary. He had allowed it and while Damen had come around, her death only solidified his opposition to it. He didn’t need someone else slowing him down or getting in the way of his plans. And even worse, he didn’t need to get attached. Jokaste had thrown him for a loop, made him vulnerable and he didn’t need that again. Damen’s heart hardened resolutely. No, he would not let it happen again.
“I think you may have met, but I’d like to introduce you to your new counterpart from the Veretian agency, ACQ.”
Nik pressed the intercom. “Erasmus, we’re ready for him.”
Damen didn’t even have to turn to know who it would be. The neroli citrus scent that filled the room was unmistakable. Along with Auguste, he turned and stood to discover that familiar face from yesterday standing idly at the doorway with a sheepish grin plastered across. As Damen stared back mutely, the night apart had not done anything to dissipate his irritation.
Unlike the slicked back look from the party, Laurent’s hair was more tousled and casual, the longer top falling gently behind his ear. He had replaced the evening suit with a casual dove gray number that accentuated all the right curves.
“You didn’t think that was the last of me, did you?” He said as a form of greeting, giving Damen a playful wink.
“Sir, Laurent DeVere.” The blond extended a hand to Nik.
“Pleasure. This is Damen, one of my top agents.
Damen frowned. So, he was one of those agents. The type that used their real name everywhere. It gave off a level of arrogance and recklessness that Damen was in no way comfortable with. Another red flag if they had to work together.
“Great. Now that you’re both here and the introductions are out of the way, we can continue. Berenger is turning out to be more of an issue than we expected. Thanks to the intel that you both collected, we have ascertained that he will be meeting with the Ver-Tan Patriarchy to solidify this deal. Laurent, you and Damen will go in and figure out when the delivery is and stop the deal from happening.”
“Sir, with so much ground to cover,” Damen chose his words slowly and carefully. “Don’t you think it’s better to split up? Cover more ground?”
Nik studied him carefully. While Damen knew the man well, the same could be said for the reverse. No doubt Nik knew exactly what he was trying to achieve. Damen kept a passively inquiring face, keeping all his personal opinions locked shut.
“No, I don’t think so.” Nik shut Damen’s objective down in one clipped sentence. Damen knew when he was beaten. He may not agree, but this was his boss.
“Makedon will get you set up and briefed. That’s it.”
The curt reply signaled the end of the conversation. They were dismissed. Damen left as quickly as he could. He was still fuming as he blew through the main office without as much as another word to Erasmus. He was just getting over Jokaste and getting used to working alone again. He didn’t need this, not now.
After Makedon’s briefing, the pair exited into the young twilight. Damen had darted out as quickly as he could but somehow Laurent had managed to catch him up near the exit. Damen’s head was still abuzz with the briefing. The excess of information flurried around his mind, waiting for him to reorganize it all. He would go home and sit in his chair and nurse a glass of bourbon. This was his way.
“Well, this will be fun,” Laurent remarked, just the subtlest hint of teasing dangling off that sentence. “Quick drink? My favorite bar is just around the corner from here.”
“If I had known, I would have come to your agency sooner.” Laurent added jokingly, his eyes dancing with mirth and the corner of his mouth upturning.
“No, thank you,” Damen rejected firmly, his words short and with an acerbic bite. “I’ll just see you tomorrow at the airport.”
Without another glance, he turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction, leaving a deliberate silence behind.