Stephan corrected.
“Possibility of convergence,” Julien continued. “And you need the other masques dealt with within the week, in a way that their disappearances will not raise suspicion.”
“We want to take proactive steps,” Stephan said pleasantly. “After all, Mr. Kelton is in no real danger. But the masque he’s currently projecting, for instance, is quite well-known in his community and can’t simply disappear.”
Caro had her notebook open, a reporter’s pad, Eric noticed, with her pen ready. Her gaze focused on Julien and Eric felt a brief rush of irrational annoyance that she wasn’t looking at him.
A familiar tug in his hands caught his attention. Glancing down through the spotless smoked-glass tabletop, he saw they were now long and thin, with a perfect manicure. Alberta’s hands. Impossible. How could that be?
It wasn’t convergence. It was distraction. Yes, he was preoccupied and lost track of himself. A quick flex of his will and Eric brought his hands back to normal, breathing a sigh of relief.
When he raised his eyes, Caro looked at him with concern in her chocolate-brown gaze. “Are you feeling well, Mr. Kelton?” she asked. “Would you like some water?”
Her rich voice wrapped around him like velvet. “No water, thanks,” he said brusquely. She frowned slightly and stiffened in her chair. Nice, Kelton. Now she thinks you’re rude as well as crazy. He observed her closely but Caro acted no differently than before. Her question had been sheer politeness, not a challenge from someone who had noticed his slip.
Still, he needed to be sure. Masquerada weren’t psychic, but they could manage a sort of mental nudge to get another’s attention. She didn’t even look at him. No masquerada would let that psychic poke go unacknowledged. What was she, then?
“Let me catch Caro up,” Julien said. “Since she was late.”
He turned to Caro with a pompous expression. Eric hid his amusement when Caro sank slightly down into her seat before pasting an attentive look on her face. Although she jotted notes as Julien spoke, Eric had a sneaking suspicion that they had little to do with the words coming out of the bore’s mouth.
Julien was well-informed for an outsider, Eric noticed with surprise. Caro’s expression altered slowly from faked to real interest as Julien spoke, looking to Eric occasionally as though to check his reaction. Every time their eyes caught, Eric felt a pull right through his gut. At the end of the lecture, she nodded.
“Eric Kelton,” she said. “The name is familiar. Technology? Are you much different in your real appearance?”
“You can judge.” He took three breaths and shifted to his usual self. Her eyes widened and she gasped sharply. He wanted to be gratified by her reaction but had a feeling it was caused by seeing the transition—odd, as masquing was common enough that most arcana wouldn’t consider it shocking. She was breathing heavily and her fingers were white on her pen.
Although his male pride wanted to claim it as a response to the appearance of his real self, his intuition said it was something deeper and nothing to do with him at all. Damn.
Then she spoke, her voice steady. “The masques are converging, which means, as I understand from Julien’s comprehensive explanation, that they are beginning to meld with each other.”
“That’s right.”
“What about with you? I mean Eric, the core you. Are those masques connecting with your Eric self more than they should?”
Eric sat up straighter. Caro was perceptive. There had been no mention of that. He nodded.
“Then I’m confused,” she said, putting the pen down and raising her arms to run her fingers over her hair, smoothing it down. Eric tried not to notice how voluptuous the pose made her figure appear under her silky cream shirt. “It sounds like you need a therapist. Not us.”
Julien shot her an evil look, which she fielded with aplomb. Eric laughed out loud, feeling suddenly refreshed. “A therapist may not be a bad idea, Miss…?”
“Yeats. Ms. Yeats.”
“Ms. Yeats. But not right now.”
Stephan interjected. “As a precaution, Mr. Kelton will no longer shift into any of his current masques.”
“What happens if a convergence occurs?” she asked curiously.
“It’s no secret. The masques merge. Mr. Kelton would no longer be himself, but instead become an unpredictable mix of any number of the masques he’s taken over his lifetime.”
Caro frowned. “That sounds serious.”
“I’m glad we convinced you,” Stephan said dryly. “Of course, we are telling you this only because of JDPR’s strong reputation for keeping information absolutely confidential.”
Caro ignored that. “Yet he came here as one of his masques, not as himself. Why take the risk?”
As Hierarch, Eric generally wasn’t used to his actions being questioned. Sure, he encouraged it from Tom and Stephan but that was where it ended and even they knew where the boundaries lay. Now this woman—not even a masquerada—came along and challenged one of his decisions. Eric was momentarily floored until he caught sight of Stephan’s thunderous face. The woman must have been about half the soldier’s size but she glanced up unconcernedly and raised an eyebrow.
Stephan’s outraged expression made Eric feel lighter than he had in decades. He’d seen some of the fiercest masquerada in the realm back down after seeing Stephan look like that. Caro had nerves of steel. He looked at her with renewed interest. “Why indeed. Well, Ms. Yeats, let’s say that’s my business. Now why don’t you focus on yours and give me a recommendation.”
She didn’t even bother to look at Julien before she answered. “Well, obviously, they all need to die.”
Chapter 4
Killing off the non-Eric masques seemed like a common-sense solution, so Caro was more than a little surprised at the effect her suggestion had on the three men. Julien flapped his mouth open and shut like a hooked fish. Stephan simply stared before a deep flush stained his cheeks. Eric gripped the edge of the table so hard she thought he would shatter it.
Then there was silence. “Or at least disappear permanently,” she added. “They don’t have to be totally dead.” Maybe she should have softened her suggestion in the first place.
Still nothing. As she waited, she thought about Eric. How many more masques had he taken on over his life? Was five at a time a maximum? Was there a maximum? A brief flash of anger that her mother hadn’t bothered to give her even these basic facts of masquerada life ran through her before she recognized it was unfair. Her mother, to give Gaelle some credit, had tried to talk to her about being a masquerada. Not hard, but she had tried. It had been Caro who had not wanted to listen.
An exotic scent of orange and cinnamon drifted toward her and she inhaled greedily, knowing it was Eric. How did he manage to keep the masques straight? Seeing Eric actually shift there in front of her had thrown her off-balance. She had never seen anyone take on a masque. Her mother had insisted on total privacy and Caro had grown up thinking the transition was something to be hidden away, an act both secretive and shameful.
As though Eric knew she was thinking about him, he raised his eyes to gaze straight at her. The air in the boardroom seemed to get thin and hard to breathe. Without thinking, she stared at his broad shoulders, wide and muscular under the slightly looser but well-cut suit jacket. The Alex masque was an impressively built, attractive man, but Eric as himself was a thousand times hotter. Dark hair dipped over his forehead and peaked eyebrows gave him a wickedly sinful expression. The lips—she couldn’t even look at them. Or the jaw.
Her eyes drifted down. Could he change everything about his body? She tried not to blush but she must have had a peculiar expression on her face because Eric gave her a look that made her stomach tighten.
“Tell