Page 147 of Maksym

My place was clearly on his right.

I knew it immediately because my laptop sat open there, screen dark but ready, power cord tucked so cleanly along the table edge that I suspected Tilden could perform minor miracles with cable management. Beside it rested a leather portfolio.

I stopped.

It was beautifully tooled, dark oxblood leather worked with subtle geometric designs and a small silver clasp. When I opened it, I found legal pads. More than a couple. Lovely paper, heavy stock, lined in a shade of blue so tasteful it felt judgmental. Black pens lay in a narrow interior sleeve, each one capped, aligned, and likely worth more than my first car.

I looked at Maksym.

“I asked for a couple of legal pads.”

“You received them.”

“I received a litigation dowry.”

His mouth did not move, but his eyes warmed. “You may require options.”

“I am beginning to think Kozlov support knows no bounds.”

Taras looked up. “That is accurate.”

Remy gave a quiet laugh. “Baby, you asked a vampire king for office supplies. This is on you.”

I smiled before I meant to. It arrived easily, which made it stranger.

I sat and ran one hand over the portfolio, grounding myself with the texture of expensive leather and the absurdity of being moved by paper. In another life, office supplies had been mundane. Necessary. Ordered through systems that never worked properly. Legal pads had lived in drawers and court bags and on desks under bad fluorescent lights.

Here, they felt like weapons laid before me. I could use them.

The doors opened again.

Lucia swept in with Doc at her back, already sipping from a mug of coffee as if caffeine had surrendered to her authority on sight. She wore black again, tailored and severe, her curls pulled back from her face in a sleek fall that left her expression unobstructed and mercilessly awake. Doc followed in a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled, big shoulders filling the doorway for a second before the room admitted him.

Lucia looked around the table.

“Well,” she said, “I see the brain trust has assembled, and no one has stabbed anyone before breakfast. Philadelphia has made us soft.”

Doc closed the door behind them. “Honey, most folks call that progress.”

“Most folks have low standards.”

Nikolay’s mouth curved. “Good morning to you too, Lucia.”

“It remains to be seen.”

Doc moved behind her chair and pulled it out without thinking. She sat without acknowledging that she had expected it. He set one hand briefly on her shoulder before taking the seat beside her, close enough that their arms nearly touched.

I found myself smiling again. Not politely. Genuinely.

Lucia saw it and lifted her mug slightly. “Careful, Grace. If you encourage him, he becomes impossible.”

Doc looked offended. “I woke up charming.”

“You woke up asking whether I intended to interrogate people before coffee.”

“A reasonable medical concern.”

“You are a physician, not a diplomat.”