So. I’m going to have to get him to stop talking. The best way to get him to stop talking is probably to sleep with him. I look at him under lowered lashes. Physically, he doesn’t repulse me, quite the opposite. From growing up in the Hearth, I’ve always thought of sex as a conversation or a connection. In this case, it’s a tool I can use, and I’m fully aware of that. I can’t say that sleeping with the head of the Ratel was how I expected this evening to end.

Goddammit, Tila.

“Now, you’re in,” Ensi says. “You help me, I help you, and all of San Francisco is at your fingertips.”

I force myself to smile, as if that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Really, I’d rather grab a nearby candlestick, bash him over the head and run away. Evidently I’m capable of it. I flinch at the violent urge. Did the Verve or the Test change me? I finish the drink and set the glass on the little table by the sofa.

“You caught my eye when we first met,” he says, standing and drifting closer to one of the paintings on the wall. I join him, my mind still spinning. Where did they meet? When? “You put yourself to any task I asked of you with a single-mindedness few possess. You’ve proved yourself at the Verve lounge, these last few weeks. I have no doubt you’ll be an asset to us.”

He has a way of speaking that seems familiar. Didactic—that’s what it is. Expansive, confident, the way Mana-ma would deliver a sermon. His voice draws me in close. I try to resist his spell. I wonder if there are still remnants of the drug in my system, or if he exudes some sort of pheromone that I can’t resist, either manufactured or natural, that makes me want to open to him like a flower. I close my eyes and call on Mana-ma’s training, imagining a bright light cleansing my whole body. When I open my eyes, I feel in control of myself, cold and calculating.

“When do we start?” I ask.

“Soon enough. Tonight, though, is a celebration. Don’t worry about business for now.” He moves closer, holds out his hand. “Shall we dance?”

I take his hand, warm and soft. No manual labor for him. “Shouldn’t we go downstairs, where the music is?”

With a flick of his eyes, the same music that plays downstairs flows through unseen speakers. “Much as I’d like to, I can’t go down to join in. Not just yet.” He smiles to himself, as if he’s told an amusing joke. I shiver.