Greed: A Superhero Romance (The Deadly Seven Book 2) Page 3

The latter two journalists weren’t in yet which made Lilo grateful. The last thing she needed was more eyes judging her embarrassing morning.

  “Coffee, Bev.” She put the mug on her friend’s desk and ducked back into her little cubby to twiddle her hoop earrings and fade away.

  “I didn’t ask for a coffee, love.” Beverly’s husky voice carried a “do-not-fuck-with-me” vibe. It was misleading because Bev was as sweet as pie.

  “Well, I made it anyway. You can have it. It’s all yours.”

  “I drink tea,” Bev mumbled. “But, thank you anyway, gorgeous.”

  “You’re right. You like tea. I know that.” Lilo put her face in her hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me this morning. First, I sleep through my alarm, then there was the bubblegum incident, and now this. Knowing my luck, I’ll log on and find a police report about something that should have been uploaded to the web hours ago.”

  Silence from over the partition. Bev slowly stood on the other side, just long enough for Lilo to catch blue hair, arched eyebrows and blue eyeshadow before she popped back down again. She lifted. She sat.

  Doing her morning squats.

  “The bubblegum incident,” Bev said on an up squat. “That shmendrik bothering you again? I thought you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine.”

  She referred to Donnie.

  “No. All me this time. I—” She couldn’t even picture the incident without blushing. “I totally face-planted the cashmere chest of this uber hot geek-god in the coffee room and kinda accidentally popped my bubblegum on said cashmere and then I tried to rub it off but made it worse and then I told him to take it off and oh my God I’m going to be sick.” She clutched her stomach.

  This time, Bev stood up and stayed, peering over the partition. Her red nails clicked on the divider as her fingers thrummed. “We don’t have hot geeks working here. Only old, semi-retired schmoes.”

  “Yes, I know. He must be new.” As the words fell out of her mouth, the world closed in on Lilo and she sat up straight, back like a rod. “Oh no. The new guy. He must be Grace’s boyfriend’s brother. The one I referred for the consultant job.”

  “You referred someone you don’t know?”

  “Grace knows him. I trust her.”

  Grace rarely asked for anything, so when she’d called for a favor to help her boyfriend, Evan Lazarus, Lilo knew she had to help. Grace had always supported Lilo and stood by her during her difficult breakup with Donnie. As it turned out, the favor was easy for Lilo to grant. All she needed to do was hand in Evan’s brother’s resume and the executive almost fell over their feet to book him in for an interview. Apparently he had access to some new fandangled news automation software that would triple productivity and increase sales.

  The Lazarus family were synonymous with fame and ambition in Cardinal City. The eldest, Parker Lazarus, ran a multi-million dollar—possibly billion dollar—tech company. One other brother was a movie star… Tony Lazarus, and she was sure another brother was head chef at the Michelin–starred restaurant Heaven. Wyatt Lazarus, that was his name. There were more family members, but Lilo couldn’t quite remember them.

  Memories flashed before her eyes and she was instantly transported back a few months to when she’d lunched with Grace at Wyatt’s restaurant. Grace had been trying to sink into her seat to hide from the imposing and hard-to-miss men as they walked into the room. The Lazarus women at their table had been absolutely stunning, and the men… Parker Lazarus, Tony Lazarus and… the man she popped the gum on.

  Griffin. His name was Griffin.

  Even his name sounded like something imposing out of mythology. A majestic beast, part eagle and lion that protected treasure—her coffee pod—and crushed metal beneath his savage grip.

  Bev’s eyes widened as she took in something over Lilo’s shoulder, then sat in a rush.

  “Definitely not a schmoe.”

  Lilo turned to find the man in question standing behind her with a steaming mug of coffee and looking at her vision board with curious eyes.

  He’d removed his sweater and replaced his blazer—no bubblegum in sight. The hard set of his jaw and flared nostrils hinted at the displeasure still riding him. He was about to say something confrontational. She tensed.

  He calmly put the mug on her desk. “I don’t want your coffee.”

  “Oh. Okay.” That wasn’t what she expected. “But it’s not my coffee. You got it first. Finders keepers, remember?”

  “No. You were right. You got there first.”

  Were they going to argue about whose coffee it was?

  “But I ruined your sweater,” Lilo added diplomatically. “So you should have it. I’ll pay you for the sweater, of course. Just hang tight while I get my checkbook out of my bag.”

  Her hands trembled as she retrieved her satchel and opened the flap. Dread coated her insides. The last thing she wanted was to write a check. It meant asking her father for help, and she wanted nothing to do with him. She shouldn’t even still carry her old checkbook around.

  “No.” Griffin’s loud voice rang out in the office and people glanced over. Realizing the unwanted attention, he dropped his tone. “I don’t want payment for the sweater.”

  He had to take payment. She wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye if he refused. Every time she’d see him in the halls, she’d think about how she ruined his sweater. She owed him something.

  “Consider us even,” he added, then elaborated: “You also referred me for the job.”

  Lilo blinked. He knew who she was?

  “So, I owe you nothing, and I want nothing from you. Let’s leave it at that.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode away.

  Chapter Four

  Griffin strode into his new private office, refusing to believe what his body screamed at him: that woman was his mate.

  Heat suffused his pores along with the lingering scent of blueberry gum laced with something inescapably feminine. It made every muscle, every sense, every nerve, raw in his body. His shirt scratched, and his shoes felt too small for his feet. Tugging his tie, he sat at his desk and forced his lungs to breathe at an even pace.

  Even if she was—irrelevant—he was in perfect control.

  He didn’t need a mate. Especially not some bubblegum-popping, rambling woman who probably had no idea what a real statistic was, even if she did like facts. He raked his fingers through his hair, messing up the style.

  Fact: Being near her screwed with his equilibrium. He didn’t care if his tattoo said he was balanced. He knew how he felt, and his emotions were in turmoil. How could that be good?

  Fact: He couldn’t afford weakness—just touching her blocked out all sense of greed in the building.

  Fact: She distracted him, and that was dangerous. When she had her hands on him, he couldn’t breathe from the intensity of his irrational desire for her.

  It was illogical how all sense of normalcy disappeared the moment they’d made contact. It was like he’d entered the Twilight Zone. His lungs had seized. His heart had pounded, and he’d sweated profusely. What was worse, her natural scent under that infernal bubblegum made him so aroused he went rock hard instantly. He’d never been more grateful for a woman getting flustered and fleeing in his life. He knew Evan said he’d felt something similar around Grace, but it all still sounded so ridiculous to Griffin.

  But even as he thought it, another voice whispered that science was based in fact. If his biological mother created him and his siblings to recognize their sin’s exact opposite, then it most certainly wasn’t a mistake. There must be a reason, perhaps one that was necessary.

  She was a beautiful distraction he couldn’t afford. Loss of control was the first step to chaos. The piles of dead bodies in his memories were a testament to that.

  Pushing thoughts of the woman from his mind, Griffin took a deep, restorative breath, adjusted the spectacles on the bridge of his nose, and peered at the collection of newspapers laid out on his
desk. Arriving early that morning, he had been shown to the office by the editor’s secretary and told to make himself comfortable until the meeting where he would be introduced to the rest of the staff. He wouldn’t be welcome, he knew that. Nobody employed with the purpose of cutting jobs would be welcome.

  He focused on his other reason for being there: the defamatory articles and the person writing them—Donald Doppenger. He’d never met the man and would have to hunt him down to investigate why he liked to publish lies about Griffin’s family.

  A few nights ago, Parker’s assistant had supplied Griffin with a series of newspapers, all with articles by the man in question. All newspapers were now on his desk. Four columns of folded newspapers, three rows deep and displaying the cover-page, stared back at him. Each had a different headline marking the Deadly Seven as disruptive and destructive vigilantes. All written by Doppenger. Pity he wasn’t one for facts—half the nonsense he wrote was sensationalist conjecture.

  A headline caught his attention.

  City Under Ransom; Where is Greed Now?

  The story was dated three months ago and detailed a number of shocking kidnappings in the city. In one, the son of a wealthy aristocrat had been kidnapped and a ransom well within the means of the father was requested and not paid. But instead of writing about the lack of parental concern for the wellbeing of his child, the writer blamed the negligence of Greed for not responding to the mother’s desperate call for help in tracking the kidnappers.

  Griffin sneered in distaste. So he had to be everywhere at once, did he? He put down the paper and moved to the next.

  Another story claimed the Deadly Seven were to blame for the building collapse that Wyatt’s ex-fiancee, Sara, orchestrated. That story went far deeper than what the newspaper reported. In the course of the past few months, thanks to Evan’s persistence, they’d discovered Sara’s true sinister nature. She worked for the Syndicate—the organization that created the seven—and they wanted them back. Since they couldn’t get them, they tried replicating the experiment by creating clones with supernatural biology, but failed at this as well. Their clones had a shelf-life of a few months. Didn’t matter now, Evan had destroyed their lab two months ago, giving the Deadly Seven an advantage over the Syndicate.

  Their only other advantage was how their biological mother locked supernatural abilities behind layers of DNA junk in their bodies, only to be revealed when they each met their mate.

  Their mate.

  Not a partner, or a wife, or a girlfriend or lover. A mate.

  Someone they would be pair-bonded to on an intrinsic, and unescapable biological level. Someone who would trigger a pheromone response in his body to entice them to feel the same way about him. In nature, animals mated for breeding purposes and often connected monogamously for life. Nature was where their creator got all her research and ideas from, but because she was dead with only an encrypted laptop left behind with her nonsensical notes, Griffin had been forced to conduct his own study. He wanted to understand what his future held. More importantly, he wanted to know how to break free from it.

  Griffin stared at his hand again, turning it over. His inner wrist tattoo had itched since he’d met Lilo in the break room. It was impossible to tell if she had an effect on his biological balance since he was already in harmony, but it itched. Maybe the simple fact it hadn’t changed an iota since he met her was a sign she was the one. An altercation with any other person regarding who owed what would send his tattoo scrambling. But not her. Not Lilo Likeke.

  Before Evan had met his mate, Grace, his tattoo had been almost completely black. Within moments of entering Grace’s orbit, his tattoo had equalized—returning to the normal Yin-Yang black-and-white pattern everyone recognized. Griffin had thought this sudden change to be cheating, but he couldn’t hide the fact that the balance meant Evan was free to help anyone, anytime he desired with no consequence to his sin’s dangerous internal pull.

  A scar ran along the back of Griffin’s hand, a byproduct from the time he was on a tour in the Middle-East with the Australian SAS. Like the rest of his family, his deadly combat training had spanned six other countries around the world. From deep covert cover, man-hunting expeditions, to Kung-Fu with the masters in Tibet. It had been a lonely, frightening time starting from the age of fifteen, and he’d come out with scars not always seen by the naked eye. If Mary knew the full extent of the training’s brutality, she would never have let them go. Then again, maybe she did know. His adoptive mother was as deadly and determined as they were—except, where they grew up with loving parents, Mary grew up brainwashed into being an assassin for a secret society known as The Hildegard Sisterhood.

  Mary and Flint’s loving relationship had been a beacon of hope for each of the seven. They made it seem like a normal relationship was possible for people like them.

  Unbidden, Lilo’s face entered Griffin’s mind and the smell of bubblegum came with it. He supposed she was attractive. Quite. She had soft luminous skin. Her brown hair was a little messy, but the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes had brought her to life. She had passion. He respected that.

  Thinking of Lilo sent a wave of unseen energy rippling through him, making him dizzy. The wave crashed, and he was left reeling, only to feel the entire surge again. And again. Each time, metal objects on his desk lifted a few inches, hovered, and fell back with a clatter, throwing his desk into chaos. Paper clips, staples, scissors, and his phone; all rose as though he’d entered a zero gravity container. The stronger the wave of energy prickling through him, the higher the metal objects lifted. All items twisted and rotated in the air to point at Griffin, as though he were their true north.

  His lungs seized at the reality of his new power manifesting.

  First the metal mug crushing inward on its own, now this.

  Flying metal?

  No.

  Not on his first day on the job.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  A knock came at the door and every metallic item dropped. He scrambled to neaten the disorder, lining up the newspapers in perfect rows and dragging the pencils into a pile.

  “Mr. Lazarus.”

  Fred the Editor poked his head inside the office door. In order to remember his name, Griffin used the association technique. Not only was he an editor, but Fred was an older man. Judging by his white hair and wrinkled face, he neared retirement. But Fred the Elderly Editor was too much of a mouthful. Like most journalists and editors Griffin had met so far, Fred’s hair was as unkempt as his clothes. He should run a comb through it every so often. Maybe people would respect him more if he took care of his appearance, and Griffin wouldn’t need to be employed to consult on the department’s efficiency.

  “Yes?” Griffin smoothed his tie.

  “It’s time for the morning meeting. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you there.”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Griffin put his hands in his pockets, hoping to dispel the residual tingling left by the invisible magnetic pull of his new ability. He’d deal with that later.

  He followed Fred the Editor through the hallway to a meeting room filled with a long, oblong board table and Cardinal Copy staff sitting in chairs. Seemed as though he was the last to arrive. He stood behind Fred at the head of the table. The sense of greed gently pulsed at him, and Griffin took a moment to acquaint himself with each person—aligning their greed signature with their face. The brunette man at the end of the table held the strongest greed. Casting his eyes over the man, Griffin couldn’t see anything synonymous with strong. The man was tall, in his early forties, slim and soft. His jaw was pointed. His eyes were a shrewd washed out blue.

  A light pressure on his arm made all the greed seep out of the room. The strange notion had Griffin turning in time to catch Lilo as she squeezed by. Greed filtered back as she removed her light touch. It had been mere minutes since he’d last seen her, but his body reacted as though it had been years apart and they were long lost lovers. Ev
ery hair stood to attention. The blood in his veins ignited. His body craved her, he couldn’t deny it.

  “Good morning everyone,” she said in a sing-song voice as she placed a tray of baked goods on the table. “I picked up scones from the bakery downstairs. And, yes, Peter. I added a few donuts.”

  A gray-haired man with round spectacles grinned from big-ear to big-ear and immediately reached in to retrieve a chocolate covered donut.

  Peter the Donut-Eater. Easy to remember.

  Lilo shot Griffin a nervous sideways glance before taking the last remaining free chair at the end of the boardroom table. It was next to the tall greedy man which made Griffin curious. Why did she grimace and lean away as though there were a bad smell on his side, and why had his greed flared to new heights when she arrived?

  “Right, well, if we’re all here, let’s get on with the meeting.” Fred plucked a donut from the tray and dropped into his chair. He suddenly realized Griffin was left standing. “Is there a chair somewhere for Mr. Lazarus?” he asked the table in general.

  Nobody put up their hand or offered to get a seat.

  “You can have mine if you want.” Lilo piped up from the end. “I’ll just get a new one from the office.”

  Griffin flinched. Did she really think he would let a woman give up her seat for him? In fact, did everyone else? He cast a glance across the mostly male table and not one person offered their seat in Lilo’s stead. Not that he needed it, but it was the principle. Chivalry was not in this building.

  “No, thank you. I’ll stand. It will be easier to see me while I speak.”

  “Great,” Fred said, addressing the table. “Everyone, this is Griffin Lazarus. He has been employed to increase the efficiency of this newspaper by analyzing our productivity and working out what tasks can be mined to the new automation software coming in soon.”

  A few murmurs washed over the table.

  “Mr. Lazarus. The floor’s all yours.” Fred went back to nibbling his donut, clearly not fussed about the new situation. Probably thought his job was safe.