Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“You can if you want,” he said, because she was damn good at it, had an entire empire of entertainment under her belt. “But you said you’re starting to grow bored.”
She made a face. “Not bored so much as unfulfilled. I’ve mastered this business, have pots of money, need a challenge—but I have no idea what that might be.”
“Be my steward,” Illium said.
Dulce’s lips parted, her forehead furrowing below the sleek asymmetrical cut in which she wore her hair this decade. “What does that mean?”
“We say ‘steward’ because it’s the traditional term, but it effectively means head of operations. To start with, you’d be in charge of creating then managing the ‘household’ team at my version of the Tower, whatever that ends up being. You’d have full control of all processes to do with maintaining the back end—ordering everything from food supplies to organizing necessary repairs to hiring the staff.”
Seeing she was listening, he continued, “It might sound simple, but Dulce—full disclosure—it’ll probably run you ragged. Especially now, as we gear up. Along with all the operational work, I’d need you to be my eyes and ears on the ground, to weed out the bad actors and spies who’ll no doubt try to weasel their way in.
“You’d also be in charge of long-term preparation to ensure we can survive if hemmed in by enemy forces.” He folded his arms. “I’m not planning to start a fight with anyone soon, but I need to be ready.” One of Montgomery’s most important tasks was to make certain the entire population of the Tower could survive for a solid block of time if the enemy cut off their supply lines.
“As my steward, you’d also be handling incoming contacts alongside Aodhan—people who’ll be applying to join my ‘court,’ so to speak. He’ll handle the martial angels and vampires, and any senior scholars, with you dealing with the rest. I need people I trust to help filter incoming staff, and I know you have a laser eye and even better instincts. Even if you don’t want the full steward role, I’d like you to take on recruitment.”
Dulce was quiet for a while before she said, “I’d basically be managing the needs of hundreds of people on a daily basis and—once you’re established—ensuring your base runs so smoothly that everyone forgets I’m there? Like Montgomery?”
“I knew you’d get it.” Most people only ever saw Montgomery as a butler because that was how he liked it; everyone senior in the Tower, however, well understood that he was one of them. The vampire was a quiet, thoughtful presence at all strategy meetings, not only for his expertise in the practicalities warriors often forgot when focused on battle, but because he spoke for the entire non-martial population of the Tower, too.
The big difference was that Montgomery had started with fewer duties than Illium was throwing at Dulce—but Dulce was older and far more experienced at management than Montgomery had been at the time he began. He’d grown with Raphael’s team, while Dulce was coming in as a woman who’d been a formidable CEO for centuries; she was looking to be stretched, to have to think fast on her feet.
“If I decide to have a separate residence at some point,” he added, “I’d ask you to manage that, too.” Illium trusted her without question; Dulce had never lost her defiant streak of honor, no matter that she’d walked in the gray most of her near-immortal life. “If, after trying it out, you don’t like the position, I won’t hold you to it—but I need you to sign on for the first full year if you do want to try it.”
“Not asking for much, are you?” Dulce’s lips curved. “The answer is yes, I’ll be your steward. I can’t think of anything more interesting than helping to set up an archangel’s home base. If nothing else, I’ll have bragging rights for eternity.”
“What about Ezra?” he asked, referring to her husband—a chef as a mortal, he hadn’t lost anything of his love of food or cooking even after his Making and owned a five-star restaurant in the city; having been there many times, Illium well knew his skills. “I’d welcome him on my team.”
“Are you kidding? He’s been trying to get onto the Tower kitchen team for decades, but no one ever leaves, so there are no openings!”
“Tell him I need a head chef—he’ll have full autonomy to put together a team.” To know the food he and his people would be consuming came from trusted hands? It meant a hell of a lot. Because while angels were tough, they weren’t invulnerable; poison might not kill them, but it could make them sick and weak.
A beaming Dulce said, “Fuck it,” and, taking a deep breath, crossed the distance between them to embrace him. “It’s like electricity crawling over my skin.” She shuddered before breaking away, but they were both grinning, excited about the future to come.