Free Mikalo's Flame by Syndra K. Shaw

Richardson’s
first name correctly, the last syllable smooth and gentle.
    “Ah,” Richardson said, his eyes on me.
    “I assume this took place at a meeting you
were invited to Miss Grace?” he then said.
    I almost laughed.
    Thank god he knew what was up and thank god I
had him on my side. And I love that he was using my last name
instead of calling me by my first like he was with Marcus. One
showed respect, the other a disdain bordering on anger, a
distinction lost on the sweating cretin with his elbows on the
table.
    I glanced at Abby, the white of her skin
turning even whiter beneath her Geishas’R’Us make-up.
    “No, Mr. Richardson,” I said, not quite on a
first name basis with him yet. “I don’t believe it was. I’m not
sure what Marcus is remembering, but you and I both know that
course of action, with regards to the Byzan’s estate, would lead to
more problems and confusion.
    “Briefly, this is what I’d recommend,” I then
began before briefly encapsulating the challenges the Byzan’s
multinational estate faced, the tax loopholes still legally
available to them, and what was best to do now, first, and what
could wait.
    In all honesty, I was showing off. Flashing
my brilliance. Not just to bury Abby and Marcus or remind
Richardson why I was absolutely necessary to the Firm. Or even to
show the Byzans that I was the one to trust, the one to listen to.
I was also stretching my muscles a bit for Mikalo. Showing him what
I did and how well I did it.
    It was exciting and delicious and
exhilarating .
    I could feel him watching me, protective and
proud. Perhaps seeing me in a new light.
    I finished.
    Richardson smiled. Papa Byzan nodded in
agreement. Abby took a long swallow of her wine. And poor Marcus
sat confused, not able to keep up, not quite aware he had been
effectively neutered in the eyes of the Managing Partner.
    Mara turned to me, blinking, her eyes
struggling to focus.
    She had been quiet while I spoke, staring
straight ahead or deep into her drink, obviously lost in her own
world, oblivious to the reality around her.
    Now she watched me as if seeing me for the
first time.
    “Hey ...” she said again, the word thick,
mumbled, the puff of alcohol-laced breath stinging my eyes.
    “Hello Mara,” I said.
    Her arm still linked with Mikalo’s, she
pulled him close, snuggling into him.
    She smiled weakly before swallowing another
small hiccup.
    And then she spoke.
    “You’ve met my husband?”
     
     
     

Chapter Nineteen
     
    I breathed calmly, feeling my cheeks blush,
watching Mikalo for some reaction. For some something, for some
anything, to indicate Mara was just drunk and crazy and, you know,
wrong.
    “You know Mikalo?” she continued, pronouncing
his name like Michelob, the beer.
    Not surprising.
    “I’m sorry?” I finally stammered.
    “My husband,” she continued, gripping his arm
tighter. “We decided many, many, many years ago that we’d be
perfect for each other. And our fathers, they agreed. Everyone
agreed it was a fucking brilliant idea. Brilliant. And so someday
he is to be my husband. It’s been decided. It’s destiny.
    “Isn’t that right, darling?” she finished,
looking up at him, her nose only inches from his face.
    Mikalo laughed uncomfortably.
    “No, no,” he finally said, his eyes begging
me to get her away from him. “That is not a truth, Mara.”
    “It’s been decided,” she said again, her arm
clinging tighter to his.
    “By you, yes,” Mikalo said. “Not by me or our
fathers or anyone. Only you.”
    “But that is enough. I am The Byzan. That
should be enough, no?”
    “No,” he said, his voice firm as he tried
unsuccessfully to pull himself out of her grip.
    She pouted, playfully punching him before
shoving the wine glass to his lips.
    “Here,” she said as he pulled away.
“Drink.”
    He raised his hand and pushed it away.
    “C’mon,” she insisted, the expensive liquid
sloshing over the sides and into his lap. “It’ll make you less