Glitter (Glitter Duology #1)(32)

Take me someplace we can talk. S.



A note from Saber. My cheeks flush hot in sheer pleasure, and the flutters in my heart are for an entirely different reason now. I call myself an idiot in my head in four different languages as I fold the parchment again. “For my father, of course,” I improvise. “Right this way, monsieur.”

I turn and collide with Molli, who must have been standing directly behind me. I haven’t committed such a clumsy act in at least a year. I’ve got to regain control.

“I’ll be right back,” I mutter to Molli. “Business for my father.” I expect her to be staring at Saber with the same rapt fascination I did upon our first meeting, but she scarcely acknowledges his existence, just looks at me oddly.

“Cover for me?” I whisper, though the request barely makes sense. It’ll keep her here while I deal with Saber; that’s all I need.

I blink rapidly, trying to locate my mother and hoping she isn’t in the family quarters. Thankfully, my Lens tells me she’s decided to head to the great luncheon that’s laid out every Wednesday to make up for the loss of serving-bots to bring meals to individual quarters. My stomach growls at that thought—I missed breakfast, thanks to the great lever débacle.

I steal glances back at Saber as we stroll down the north hallway. He was deliciously gorgeous in his otherworld clothing, but since I was raised in Baroque culture, our style is apparently my preferred mode of dress even for non-Sonoman citizens. What was masculine and appealing is now devastating and magnetic. His breeches cling to lean thighs as he walks, and his fitted waistcoat highlights the subtle triangle from hips to shoulders. I can’t make myself look higher than his neck when my cheeks still feel so flushed, but I can feel his eyes boring into my back and can quite easily imagine the light green surrounded by dark lashes.

Within minutes we enter my father’s study, and I’m surprised to find my father upright and fairly alert. Saber nods politely but says nothing, and I favor my father with my best smile. “Might we borrow your study for a few moments? Alone,” I add when he doesn’t stir.

My father looks at Saber for a long moment but silently acquiesces and treads down the narrow hallway to his bedroom.

“You’re going to use this as your safe room?” Saber asks before I can turn fully back to him.

I hold up a hand and hurry to the bathroom to pop out my Lens. “Always better to be cautious,” I say, coming back and dabbing at my cheek with a handkerchief. “But we should hurry. I’ll have no warning of my mother’s return now.”

Saber nods. “Reginald thinks your idea is brilliant.”

“Truly?” I ask, warmth spreading through me both at the compliment and at the gentle roll of Saber’s voice.

“He suggests an oil-based cake-type makeup and sends word that powder won’t work.”

Ignoring the odd sensation of discussing cosmetics with a man, I simply nod. “We can do a cake foundation, a rub-on rouge, and lip gloss, then.”

“You’re sure you want so many types?”

I nod. “Variety is important. It must seem exclusive without being boring.”

He only shrugs in response. He removes a piece of paper from his pocket, and I draw near as we discuss the profit margins for the bases, the price of the Glitter, and a few branding suggestions. “This room should be perfect for blending,” Saber says, looking around. “I’ll bring you a mini–inversion plate that can accommodate a 250-milliliter beaker, which is all you should need, and—”

“No, stop,” I interrupt. “You can’t possibly intend for me to create the cosmetics here. I’m not a scientist.”

But Saber’s already shaking his head. “Simple mixing, I assure you. It can barely be called cooking, much less science. The bases melt easily; you add the Glitter, pour it into miniature pots, done.”

“Why can’t Reginald send me completed product?”

“Cut your profits in half, for starters,” Sabers drawls, as though he understands how important the money is to me and despises me for it. The sting I feel at his disapproval hurts more than it ought, and I try to swallow it back. “Reginald’s actually giving you a significant discount to hide what he’s doing from his regular Glitter people. He doesn’t want anyone else to know about this new method of distribution just yet. Also, he thinks it’d be easier to send supplies into the palace on your person; you’re way less likely to be searched than a large, mysterious package.”

I knit my brows and look around the room. “You’re certain I can manage this?”

“Trust me,” he says, reaching into his pocket and removing a tiny black canister with a dab of sparkling red paste about the size of a euro coin inside. He flips it through the air to me. It looks like a fancy sample from a high-end cosmetics company. “Reginald’s had me testing all night.”

I look up at him now, and only once I’m consciously looking do I see signs of weariness in his face. “I’m sorry I was the cause of your suddenly working so much overtime,” I say, very much meaning it. I only got the missive off to Reginald via courier at eight o’clock last night. He and Saber must have been working ever since.

“It’s what I do,” Saber says, but he won’t meet my eyes. Perhaps sleep-deprived grumpiness is the reason for his cold treatment of me. But then, what was his excuse before?