The Emperor (The Tarot Club 2)

It wasn’t lost on me that it was seven people - a prime number, a number that was truly indivisible. The Magick of Seven held its own meaning.

And that request, more than anything else, excited and unnerved me because it meant that I may belong - may have a place here, even if such a thing was an impossibility.

I blinked, looking around at the kitchen once more as I thought about all the things I could do - could cook. Of course Dimitri offered his chef - someone they had on standby for such occasions, but if I handed such a task over to the chef, it meant that I couldn’t add spells and intentions to the food - would have less control in how smoothly the dinner would run.

I pressed my phone against my ear and waited patiently to speak to the one person who could help me.

Her voice came through almost instantaneously, breathy and light.

“Where are you?” I asked, straining to hear her over the sound of traffic in the background.

“Paris.” Her voice was filled with laughter and even after studying in America, her voice was steeped in a french accent. Of course, if you told Marie that, she would deny it, but to an untrained ear, she sounded as french as they come.

“Work or pleasure?” I hedged. I still wasn’t certain what was going on with Charl, and where any of the others stood when it came to him.

“Can’t it be both?” She teased, and there was something so sensual about Marie and her french accent that I had to pause momentarily to ensure that the conversation was staying the course.

“I thought the French didn’t like to let their business bleed into their leisure time.” I grinned as I teased her.

“Ahhh, Oui, but we allow leisure to trickle into business.”

Her laughter was light and breathy.

“Well, at least you get to visit your family while you are there.”

“I will not be visiting my family, Mon chou.”

“Did you just call me a cabbage?” I demanded. I had taken enough French classes growing up - at my mother’s instance - to get by.

Once again, I was met with her laughter. “Stop taking everything so literally. Now, why are you calling me? Are you still having problems with your client?”

I shut my eyes, wondering how I was going to explain that I no longer hated Dimitri - no longer pitied him, and that I was dreading leaving him, because I didn’t think I had ever felt more alive than I did when I was beneath him - when his fingers grazed my skin.

“I’m cooking him dinner.”

I ripped the bandaid off and let Marie come to her own conclusions. She tried to muffle her laughter, but I still heard it through the phone.

“Shut up,” I moaned.

“But you can’t cook!”

I groaned, and listened to the lecture that I knew was coming.

“Mon Chou, I love you like a sister - perhaps even more than a sister, but I will not lie to you and tell you that you are a marvelous chef. Rather, take the man to dinner if you are interested in him.”

And even in her beratement, this is what I loved about Marie - she was so forward in her approach. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that I was capable of simply taking Dimitri out - of claiming him as my own.

“I know, but I really need to do this - I need to be able to cook a dinner for seven people, and I wanted to do some kitchen Magick with the food.”

“Seven?”

“Yeah.” I swallowed audibly while she sighed.

“Fine, send me a list of what you want to cook and I will guide you the best I can.”

“Thank you,” I almost sagged in relief. “ Is tomato soup difficult to make?” I asked cautiously.

“No,” she laughed, “but I’m telling you now, we’re not making any pastries.”

“Okay.” I nodded, “no pastries.”

She hung up, and I promised to send her some of my ideas. With Marie guiding me, I couldn’t fail.