Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)(16)

Even if foolish, she clung to it.

After her last encounter with him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to run into Kit again. He had seemed rather … agitated, and even if it were aimed more at Uilleam than her, she thought it best to avoid him entirely.

Maybe one of the guards could find her Uilleam instead.

Venturing back out, this time she didn’t linger in the hall to look over the portraits, moving on well past them, though her gaze, unbidden, had flitted to Kit’s before she hit the foyer.

It was quiet here, barren. And despite all the men she had seen earlier walking the grounds, either they were very good at what they did, or this place was bigger than she had originally suspected.

The marble flooring was cold beneath her feet as she came into what looked like a formal dining room, with a table that stretched nearly wall to wall, a place setting in from of each of the eighteen chairs. But there was only one setting at the head of the table that had a set of glasses accompanying it, as well as forks and knives.

And the closer she walked toward it, the better she could smell whatever was cooking in the kitchen. The aroma made her mouth water, her stomach tightening with hunger. Besides the nibbles of the sandwich she’d eaten on the plane, she hadn’t had much else over the last twenty-four hours or so.

She would need to ask permission first before she touched anything. Back at the estate, Luna had never been able to eat freely—offered only two meals a day, and only if she performed good enough to deserve them.

In the beginning, Luna had gone days without eating.

“Luna, is it?” A voice called from behind her.

A woman with flowing light blonde hair stood across the room, eyes trained on Luna as she dropped the hand she held her phone in to her side.

She wasn’t what Luna was expecting.

Just the sight of her made Luna feel inadequate. Her hair shone in the dim light of the room, makeup was expertly applied, and there was nothing cheap about the skirt and blouse set she wore. She could have been early to late twenties for all Luna could tell—there wasn’t an imperfection on her.

“I—yes, I was looking for Uil—the Kingmaker,” she quickly corrected herself, wishing she hadn’t stammered through that entire sentence.

The woman’s smile was patient. “He’s stepped out at the moment, but I’m sure I can assist you with whatever you need. I’m Aidra.”

He had told her he was leaving, but she hadn’t believed it would be this soon— then again, she didn’t know what time it was, nor how long she’d been asleep.

“I’m sorry, I was just going back—” Luna pointed in the direction she meant. It wasn’t fear that had her wanting to get back to her room, but anxiousness of what was coming next.

Uilleam had seemed rather open, at least—or rather open about his intentions. Kit, and now Aidra … she couldn’t glean a thing.

“Please, have a seat. Nix should be along shortly,” Aidra offered as she gestured to one of the many seats available.

“Nix?”

“Kit,” she explained, though her mouth twisted when she said his name, as though she weren’t accustomed to using it.

“Is that a nickname?” Luna asked, wondering why it seemed as though everyone she was meeting went by something other than their real name.

“A moniker, if you will. It helps to conceal your identity,” Aidra explained further, also answering the question she hadn’t asked.

“And do you have one?” It only seemed right that she would.

“I’ve never had need of one.”

Luna waited, thinking she would elaborate, but Aidra didn’t. It took her a moment to realize that her response hadn’t actually answered her question.

Maybe she just didn’t want to share it with Luna.

Was she Kit’s wife? Was this their home that Uilleam had dumped her in and she wasn’t pleased?

Yet she was being cordial, nice even, without a hint of malice in her tone at all.

Strange. It was all very strange.

Glancing down at her own attire—the same short dress from before—then around the dining room once more, Luna felt self-conscious. “I probably shouldn’t. I’m not really dressed—”

“Don’t worry. Uilleam called ahead to let us know you were coming. I’ve had a few things ordered that should arrive tomorrow. For now, don’t concern yourself with that.”

While there was no sympathy in the woman’s eyes, there was also no pity—Luna couldn’t say she minded.

“Are you Kit’s wife?” Luna asked.

Aidra’s careful mask of indifference slipped as she looked quite shocked at the question. “Assistant would be a better term.”

Speaking of him, Kit came around the corner, his gaze immediately falling on Luna. Gone was his black on black ensemble, replaced with gray trousers and a white shirt that was neatly tucked inside them, the top button near the collar left undone.

There was something different about the way he looked at her now. Curiosity was still present, sure, but there was something else there—something that told her he knew about where she’d come from.

Uilleam had told him, as she thought he would.

Would he treat her differently now?

“Good evening, Luna.”

Kit didn’t have a voice like any other she had ever heard. It was rich, a decadent sound that was pleasing to the ear. Even his cadence, something she had never really paid attention to was nice.