* * *
Despite their tentative truce, low expectations for Cristian’s behavior meant he was on guard when he showed up for the next night’s shift. It was the right call because he noticed the tension in the air before ever stepping into the house. Dinu and Vasilica stood in the doorway of the billiards room with cues in hand, blatantly eavesdropping on the muffled, furious voices from the office upstairs.
“Hey,” Dinu greeted Atlas. “Did Cristian text you yet?”
“No,” Atlas said, a little confused. “Was he supposed to?”
Vasilica jabbed her elbow into Dinu’s side. “He doesn’t have Atlas’s number, remember?” She darted a quick look at Atlas, a rare decision to include him in the conversation. “We aren’t going to Rapture tonight.”
Atlas looked over his shoulder. More and more, he wondered if there was a joke going on he didn’t know about. “The car’s out front.”
“That’s because Cristian is going somewhere. We aren’t.” Vasilica must have had her fill of him, because she looked back toward the stairs, head tilted in anticipation.
Andrei emerged from one of the doors leading to the kitchen. Atlas caught his attention as he headed for one of the studies—difficult to do when the man was completely focused on not spilling whatever was in his coffee mug—and asked, “What’s going on?”
Andrei grunted, spun out of Atlas’s reach, and said, “Business,” before vanishing through the other doorway.
About as helpful as a kick in the nuts, Atlas lamented. None of Cristian’s friends seemed interested in giving him any details, so he decided to follow Vasilica and Dinu’s lead and find himself a comfortable place to linger until he knew what the night’s activities were.
It didn’t take long to find out.
The voices in Decebal’s office fell silent.
“Ooo,” Vasilica whispered, “here it comes.”
Atlas’s shoulders tensed and he lowered his head without fully understanding why. A door upstairs opened, cracking into the wall a second later, and a pair of heavy footfalls pounded down the hallway.
Vasilica and Dinu retreated into the billiards room, closing the door behind. Well, almost closing the door behind them. Atlas had no doubt they were peering out through the narrow opening.
Atlas choked on a surprised breath when he spotted Cristian. He’d seen Cristian dressed up for Rapture, but those designer clothes were always worn with the relaxed indifference of someone used to such wealth. The gray suit Cristian wore now was nothing like that.
The single-breasted, modern-fit jacket made his shoulders and chest look wider than Atlas knew them to be. His skinny tie was the same color of his eyes and drew attention up to his aristocratic sneer. The careful pleat of his slacks lengthened his legs and his shined shoes would rival those of dress blues at parades. It made him look older, harder, and Atlas wondered if Cristian deliberately avoided wearing such clothes because it reminded people that he could be a responsible adult.
Armor, Atlas decided. This is Cristian in armor.
“What are you looking at?” Cristian spat when he noticed Atlas watching him.
Atlas mentally rolled his eyes before replying, “Nice tie.”
“Fuck off.”
Cristian stalked past him and out the front door before a frustrated Helias appeared on the stairs. Atlas didn’t immediately follow Cristian, instead raising a brow and looking to Helias for any kind of clues of what the hell was going on. Helias made a face and gestured for Atlas to follow Cristian instead.
Okay, so he would be going into this completely unprepared.
He took a slow, steadying breath, and abandoned the house. Cristian had already gotten into the backseat of the car. He didn’t say anything as Atlas got in and started the ignition. He didn’t say anything as Atlas drove down the drive. Atlas left him to his silence as long as he could, positive it was better to give him some time to calm down before pressing for answers. Only when they hit the end of the Vladislavic’s private road did he dare speak up.
“Tonight’s destination?” he asked.
“Sixty-one Revelator Road.”
Atlas frowned, but dutifully pulled up the GPS. “I don’t know that one,” he admitted. It stung his pride a bit; he was familiar with most of Scarsdale.
Cristian gave him a twisted grin from the backseat. “Not Scarsdale. We’re going to Hahn Lake.”
He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. “Hahn Lake? Like, almost an hour away, Hahn Lake?”
“If traffic is good and there’s no road construction. Yes.” Cristian leaned forward and pointed at the GPS. He repeated, “Sixty-one Revelator Road, Hahn Lake,” while Atlas dutifully typed it in.