To make her victory that much sweeter, Jewel went out of her way to make demands of Dante, always during class rather than during breaks, so that he would have to leave the room and miss key parts of the lesson. And in yet another attempt to prove she was an obnoxious bitch, Jewel ordered him to carry her bag down to the lobby for her when class was over. Nadia could have countermanded that order—he was supposedly her family’s servant, not Jewel’s—but she wanted Jewel out of her sight as soon as possible, so she bit her tongue instead of arguing.
Nadia was pissed off enough about Jewel’s behavior that she didn’t immediately leave the schoolroom, instead fixing herself a cup of tea and taking a moment to enjoy being blissfully alone. In a little more than an hour, she would have to face Jewel again at the Teen Charity League meeting, and she needed to regroup first.
The solitude lasted for maybe one or two minutes, and then she heard footsteps approaching. Dante must have fled Jewel’s presence at a downright sprint to be back so soon. Nadia wished she’d hurried back upstairs, not wanting to be trapped into conversation with him.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw not Dante but Mosely standing in the doorway to the schoolroom, arms crossed over his chest, unblinking eyes pinned on her. Nadia froze, trapped by the malice in his gaze. She didn’t want to know what he was thinking as he looked at her like that, but it made her feel naked and vulnerable and very, very alone.
Not that she was alone, of course. She was in her own home, and even if there was no one in sight, a scream would bring half the household running to her aid. Until they saw Mosely, of course. No one could protect her from him.
“What do you want?” she asked sharply. “If I had anything to say to you, I’d have called.”
Perhaps snapping at Mosely wasn’t the wisest course of action, but it was either snap or cower. Acting normal around this man just wasn’t possible, not when she was so acutely aware of what he could do to her.
Mosely made a tsking sound with his tongue, closing the door behind him and moving closer. Nadia had to fight an instinctive urge to take a step back. This was her home, and she would not retreat from a bully in her own home.
“I’m disappointed in you, Miss Lake,” Mosely said with a frown. “Surely you don’t think I’m unaware that Nathaniel visited here yesterday. And yet I haven’t heard from you. Do we need to have another discussion about your duty to your state?”
Nadia cursed herself. She should have sent word to Mosely about Nate’s visit even though she hadn’t learned anything. She should have known he’d expect regular updates from his unwilling spy.
“I didn’t have anything to report,” she said. “I was still pretty sick when Nate came by yesterday, and we didn’t talk much.”
Mosely stepped even closer, and this time Nadia couldn’t help moving backward. She didn’t want him close enough to touch her. His lips curved into a pleased smile, and she wished she’d had the nerve to hold her ground. Nothing pleased a bully more than seeing his prey’s fear.
“What you’re telling me,” he said, “is that you had an opportunity to question him about his plans, and you chose not to do so because you had a case of the sniffles.”
“It was the flu!” she snapped, once again letting him see that he’d struck a nerve. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and looking away so she didn’t have to see Mosely’s baleful stare. She spent half her life putting on a public face and hiding her true feelings. She could endure public verbal sparring sessions with the Trio without ever letting on when their words hurt her; she could pretend she and Nate were in love—and in lust—when they were nothing more than good friends; she could set all her own needs and wants aside for the sake of following protocol and protecting her family. Why couldn’t she put on a brave face for Dirk Mosely? True, he was physically dangerous to her—and to those she loved—but she was an Executive, damn it. The face she showed to the public was never the real her, and she should be putting on the same front for Mosely that she put on for anyone else.
“I don’t care if it was bubonic plague,” Mosely said while Nadia was still trying to regain her composure. “Time is of the essence, and you don’t seem to be treating your mission with the proper sense of urgency.”
Nadia looked up to meet his gaze again, and although what she saw there made her shiver inside, she was pretty sure that this time she kept her fear from showing on her face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mosely,” she said in her most practiced Executive voice. “I know how urgent it is, and I’ll work harder at getting Nate to talk to me.” The promise made her feel vaguely nauseous, and she wasn’t sure how she would force herself to do what she was being asked, but she’d worry about that later. For now, she had to make sure Mosely left this meeting satisfied.
“You’ll have to do better than that.”
“I’ll do what I can. But you have to remember, Mr. Mosely, you’re working with an amateur here. I don’t have any way of making Nate talk to me if he doesn’t want to.” Which was true enough. And it was possible he wouldn’t want to talk to her about whatever he was doing to try to find Bishop. It wasn’t as if he would think she could help him.
“Still not good enough,” Mosely said. “I have evidence that Nathaniel visited the Basement last night.”
Nadia’s jaw dropped open. “What?” She knew Nate had been to the Basement before with his friends—it was a rare Executive teenage boy who hadn’t—and she suspected he and Bishop had gone there as a couple, but she couldn’t imagine even someone as reckless as Nate going to the Basement alone.
Mosely chuckled at her shock. “I take that to mean he didn’t tell you he was planning to go poking around.”
“Certainly not!” Going to the Basement with a group of his friends and a legion of bodyguards was one thing, but she’d never have guessed he’d go there alone. He had to have been in disguise. Nadia couldn’t even imagine what would happen to an Executive of his stature if the Basement predators got their hands on him.
Of course, the Basement was the only place Bishop could possibly be hiding. He’d been born there, and no doubt still had contacts there. Not to mention that the average Basement-dweller wasn’t overly eager to cooperate with authorities and turn fugitives in.
“Scrip that is registered to him has shown up there,” Mosely continued. “I don’t like the idea of our Chairman Heir traipsing around the Basement unobserved and alone. Paxco has already had to swallow an enormous expense in creating this Replica; the last thing the state needs is to be forced to do it again.”
“If you think I can talk Nate out of going to the Basement, you don’t—”
“No, of course not,” Mosely interrupted. “You’ve already proven how little influence you have on him.”
Nadia’s face went hot, and she hated that she couldn’t contradict him.
“Besides,” Mosely continued, “while it might be … uncomfortable to think of our Chairman Heir putting himself in harm’s way, I suspect it is our best chance of finding Mr. Bishop. I have, of course, interviewed many of my contacts in the Basement in hopes of locating him, but I haven’t yet learned anything of great import.” He gave her a dry, cold smile. “Basement-dwellers are, as I’m sure you know, rarely forthcoming with authority figures.”
Nadia hugged herself, remembering the ease with which Mosely had threatened her with Riker’s Island. If he could wield such threats against an Executive, who knew how gruesome a threat he could wield against a powerless Basement-dweller? Had those he’d “interviewed” survived the encounter?