Trent ran his fingers over his carefully styled hair to flatten a few floating strands as Sylvia approached. Shifting my shoulder bag forward, I said loudly, “That suit would look better with a burping pad.”

Trent stiffened. His eyes flicking to the mirror, he searched the shadows for me. At his side, Jon pulled himself upright, the distasteful man holding a thin hand to his eyes to see through the glare. The witch at his feet fell back, and Sylvia murmured an apology, flustered, as her most valuable client and the daughter of one of her suppliers glared at each other.

“Quen,” Trent finally said, his voice now hard but no less beautiful. “I don’t doubt you have an explanation for this.”

Quen took a slow breath before he started forward. “You weren’t listening, Sa’han. I had to try another method to bring you to see reason.”

Trent waved the clerk away, and Jon strode across the room to flick on the main lights. I squinted as light blossomed, then smiled cattily at Trent. He had regained his composure remarkably fast, with only the slight tightening of the skin around his eyes giving away his annoyance. “I was listening,” he said, turning. “I choose to think other than you.”

Stepping from the stage, the multimillionaire shook his sleeves down. It was a nervous reaction he had yet to break himself of. Or maybe his jacket was too tight. “Ms. Morgan,” he said lightly, not meeting my gaze. “Your services are not required. You have my apologies for my security officer wasting your time. Tell me what I owe you, and Jon will draft you a check.”

That was kind of insulting, and I couldn’t help my snort. “I don’t charge if I don’t do the run,” I said. “Unlike some people.” I held my arms over my chest as a flicker of annoyance crossed Trent’s face and vanished. “And I didn’t come here to work for you,” I added. “I came because I wanted to tell you to your face that you’re a lowlife, manipulative bastard. I told you if you hurt Ceri that I’d be ticked. Consider yourself warned.” Angry was good. The pain from losing Kisten disappeared when I was angry, and right now, I was pissed.

The witch who had been helping him gasped, and Sylvia started for me, rocking to a halt when Trent lifted his hand to stop her. God, I hated that—as if he had given me permission to call him names. Ticked, I tilted my head, waiting for his response.

“Is that a threat?” Trent asked softly.