Vincent met Christoph right after dinner, making a dramatic exit off the balcony in his full gollum splendor. The fact that he hadn't been exposed was a credit to his stealth, but I also had to credit his supernatural cloaking abilities.

I arranged my butt in front of the television and watched Friends reruns to keep my mind off other junk. Like why I tried to burn Charlotte Black this morning. That stunt probably sealed my fate with the media. She was going to roast me. Would Vincent's playboy image get worked into the piece? The media could use his reputation to have a field day. Or maybe his status would save me. Of course, I could choose not to care.

I fell asleep with those troubling thoughts and woke to Vincent's hand on my cheek. "Baby, why don't you move to the bed?"

"What time is it?" I croaked. My throat felt as dry as the Sahara.

"A little after nine o'clock."

"Water, please."

Vincent strode into the kitchen while I stood and cracked the bones in my back with a satisfying stretch. When I felt the pinch of my stitches, I thought better of it.

"You still good?" he asked as he handed me the water.

"Yep. How did it go with Christoph? Did you learn anything new?"

"Yes and no. Everything he told me about the cube and the curse we already knew. Most importantly, that each curse is unique, which means each method ofremoval is unique. But we are still missing the method."

"What kinds of methods?"

"Rituals, mantras, sacrifice."

"Sacrifice? So, Christoph was right about the one who removes the curse being doomed to die with it?"

"It's not a guarantee but there's a reasonable probability. Hadria has her demons looking for an undisclosed resource to help her pull it off. Namely, Fredrik."

"So, as of right now, the only way to destroy the cube is to give it to Hadria?"

"Or some other queen."

"Would you consider doing that?"

"It's not up to me to decide what happens to the artifact. I just want to keep it away from you. But I'll share the information with the other magisters." Vincent sat and assumed his hunched position, bent over his legs with his elbows resting on his knees. This usually meant he wasn't done.

"I haven't divulged everything about the artifact to you," he went on, just as I'd predicted. "I didn't want to worry you, but you need to know about the source. The piece was forged with necromantic properties, specifically affecting demons. After death, the cube can be used to resurrect a demon into something mindless and easy to control. It was last believed to be in the hands of a man named Zenthophelius."

"Well, that's a mouthful. Sounds like a dark arts teacher at Hogwarts." I offered my stupid brand of levity, trying to lighten the mood, which had gone very dark.

"Lord Zeno of the Undead is the moniker he liked to use, but he was a necromancer, plain and simple. He lured demons away from their hives, killed them, then used the cube to resurrect them into his undead army. For almost two centuries this went on. Finally, he was defeated by a female demon, and the malevolent devices he used were spread to the four winds."

"So, zombie demons, huh? That doesn't sound pleasant."

"Not for demons, it wasn't. But Christoph did tell me something we didn't already know. The necromancer is rumored to have returned, ruling a few remaining minions. There have been sightings of his these undead demons in a handful of locations. Of course, hive queens are notorious for spreading rumors to keep their subjects subjugated."

"Do you believe Christoph is telling the truth?"

"He has no reason not to. I get the impression he doesn't believe it himself. Unless the necromancer found some amazing form of magic to keep his body alive, he'd be dust by now."

"Well, death is a necromancer's specialty. So, let's say Zeno and his body are still alive, what would happen if he got his hands on the cube again? An army of zombie demons terrorizing the village?"

Vincent shook his head, ignoring my levity. I could tell he was worried. After that crazy fever knocked me on my ass, we'd both been acting like conspiracy theorists. "I'm making plans to get rid of the cube, and I don't want you to worry about it anymore. So, don't call Christoph for answers. Deal?" He locked me down with those mercurial eyes, which never failed to put me at a disadvantage. "Deal?"

"Deal."

~ ~ ~

I didn't have to check my Twitter feed to know what the media was doing with my pregnancy news. Sylvie texted me all the links, and I scrolled through each one as I passed the neglected coffee maker and poured myself a glass of orange juice. Most of the media sites were complimentary, and the promo pics Vincent and I chose from the photo-op were used repeatedly, but after reading the first few brutal comments. I decided to give the news cycle two days, then I could pretend my life was normal again. Happy homemaker, my ass.

Oh, who was I kidding? I was starting a new job today at a high-profile publishing house, and every move I made would be monitored with hawk-like precision. Thankfully, the journalists worked on a separate floor from the graphic art department, so if I avoided certain staircases, I wouldn't have to see Charlotte.

I arrived at work bright-eyed and decked in my cubicle jockey attire; a perfect black pencil skirt, ivory blouse with sharp collar, smoky gray tights, and black suede boots. No happy homemaker here. Sam met me at the reception desk and escorted me to my workstation, taking the most direct route to make sure I wouldn't get lost.

"One intern spent her first week in the wrong office," Sam explained as he ushered me though a maze of workstations. "She only realized this when the real owner of the office returned from his honeymoon. His new bride was none too pleased."

I laughed at his story, although I couldn't help thinking he'd embellished it to get a laugh. "I appreciate you adjusting my start date. Has the project progressed very far?"

"I believe most of the images have been chosen for the anthology, so it would be great to get your additional feedback and help the team decide what order to put them in."

We arrived at the graphic arts collab room, where two women stood over a table arranging prints on a storyboard. I recognized one of the women as my supervisor, Karen.

"Good morning, ladies," Sam said. "I've brought you a pair of fresh eyes to help parse through the collection. Reese, I know you've already met Karen, and this young lady is Lindy. You and Lindy will be working closely together, so make sure you exchange cell numbers before you leave today."

"Nice to meet you, Reese." Lindy welcomed me with a vigorous handshake and a toothy smile, and I knew, right away, I was going to like her. Her skin was the most beautiful color, like mahogany or cloves, and she wore several mandala rings on her long, slender fingers.

"I love your rings," I said, realizing too late that I could have saved the compliment for later.

"Thanks. I collect them."

"Alright, gals. I'll leave you to your work." Sam patted me on the shoulder as he turned to leave. "Good luck. My door is always open. No appointment necessary."

Before I could feel embarrassed at being given privileges others may not have had, Karen waved me toward a chair, looking a little rattled but not unfriendly. "Set your purse down there for now, Reese. Lindy will show you to your desk in a few. We're doing some early mock-ups for the cover, if you want to join us."

A few turned into two hours as Karen took us through each phase of creating a dynamic book cover. I could tell Lindy had already learned the drill, and she seemed relieved when Karen suggested an eyeball break. Lindy walked me to a corner office where our two desks sat back-to-back. Fortunately, there were no cubicle walls, and there was a fabulous view of Manhattan from two directions. A major victory.

"Karen seems intense but nice," I said as I stared for a bit.

"You're good at reading people. It took me a week to realize she didn't hate me. You can keep your purse in the bottom drawer. There's a key inside it. I suggest you attach it to your key chain now. I lost my key the first day and maintenance had to jimmy the lock open. I've actually been using your desk to lock up my purse."

"You can keep using it if you want to share."

Lindy grinned and her eyebrows rose, meeting the short crop of hair she held back with a colorful headband. "Shouldn't we get to know each other better before we start sharing a drawer?" 

"Maybe you're right. Let me buy you a cup of coffee and we'll see where that leads."

Lindy chuckled, which sounded like a happy goose, and she motioned me in front of my computer. "This is all really basic stuff," she said as she started her tutorial. "You'll be asked to set up a password for your computer. They want you to search with Bing since Mega Mag contributes to their image stockpile. You'll also want to read up on anything Mega Mag prints, online or otherwise. At any given moment, someone in the company could ask you about the latest article on the new theater opening, and you don't want to just stare at them with your mouth hanging open."

"I take it that happened to you?"

She nodded. "Now, in my third week, I'm still getting schooled. Have you met Rich? He's one of the better photographers on staff."

"Yes, actually. Rich took the pictures for a piece the magazine is doing on Vincent and me and our..." I stuttered to a stop, but Lindy finished for me.

"And your baby? I read the online article Charlotte posted this morning. Congratulations."

"Thanks. So, you read the article, huh? I can't say I've gotten around to that one."

"Really? You haven't read it? Come over to my computer and I'll pull it up real quick."

I followed Lindy to her desk and read over her shoulder as she scrolled through the piece.

Recent Manhattan socialite, Reese Valentino, wife to the well-known philanthropist, Vincent Valentino, has found herself pregnant on the heels of her surprise wedding to the eligible bachelor. According to the father-to-be, both mother and baby are healthy and happy, and the family expects a mid-summer birth. Now the question on every single lady's mind is, will Reese share her secret with the rest of us?

Not terrible but not completely benign. Surprise wedding? Eligible bachelor? "Scroll to the comments, Lindy." I held my breath as she pulled up the first three posts.

I'm so happy for Vincent, but now who will I look for at parties?

I remember kissing Vincent like it was yesterday.

Mid-summer baby? Wouldn't that put her conception around the time they met? Sounds like someone got hogtied.

"Ugh." I stopped reading and shuffled back to my desk. Maybe it would be more than two days before they let this one die.

"Psst. Don't look now, but the boss is coming this way." Lindy jerked her head over her shoulder, and I looked up to find Sam walking toward our desks. He was escorting another man who used a cane, and I was taken aback when I recognized the man. He was the bald guy from the auction. He wore those funny square sunglasses, which accentuated his hooked nose, and now that I saw the cane, I made the jump that he was blind. What the heck was he doing at Mega Mag?

"Reese, I'm glad I found you here," Sam said as he pulled up to my desk with his guest, completely ignoring Lindy. "I wanted to introduce you to our newest investor. This is Dmitry Stepanov. He has kindly agreed to help us fund our anthology."

I didn't know why it was so important for me to meet this guy when I wasn't the only one working on the project, but I wasn't going to call out the person who signed my paycheck. "Hi, Dmitry. It's nice to meet you."

"Good to meet you, Reese. I heard Vincent finally took a vife. I am happy to know he is not keeping you under lock and key."

Despite his heavy Russian accent, I heard the insinuation in his tone, and I couldn't stop my curious side from seeking an explanation.

"Why would you think that? Have you and Vincent met?"

"No, but I read he spent much time sampling from zhe menu, and I vould not be surprised if he decided to keep his favorite dish all to himself."

My eyebrows rose before I could stop them, and the smartass in me pushed further. "Well, Vincent is a shrewd businessman. He knew exactly what he was getting into when he married me."

Sam chuckled uncomfortably. "Reese is a real gem. We're very glad to have her on staff."

"I had no doubt zhis vould be zhe case," Dmitry said with a half-smirk. "Vhich is vhy I am inviting Reese and Vincent to my home in Peekskill. I vould very much like to meet zhe man who is villing to spend so much of his fortune on Egyptian artifacts. I am hosting a small gathering zhis week. Please, tell me you can come, Reese."

Ah, so that was his game. He wanted to talk to Vincent about the cube. "I'll mention it to Vincent. When is the party?"

"Thursday evening."

"We leave for Europe on Friday. It may be difficult to break away for that long."

"It is not much more zhan an hour by car. I vill send a courier vith an invitation and a map. It vould mean a great deal to me if you and your husband accepted. I do not take many guests."

"It's true," Sam said. "When Dmitry made the offer to me and Beth, we didn't hesitate to accept. He even invited us to stay over."

Geez. They made it sound like I had to attend or I'd find myself in the unemployment line. "I'll do my best to make it work."

A full smile broke across Dmitry's face, reminding me of the one he wore when Vincent bested him at the auction. "Das vadanya, Mrs. Valentino."

Once they were out of earshot, Lindy nudged my arm. "What was that all about?"

I shrugged. "Beats the hell out of me. But Vincent and I saw that guy at the auction in DC. He was bidding for the same piece Vincent bought, so I can't help thinking the two are connected."

A broad smile grew on Lindy's face. "Ooh. Drama and intrigue. Promise you'll fill me in."

"It probably won't be as interesting as you think, but sure."

My phone rang in my purse, and I pulled it out, answering as soon as I saw Vincent's name. "Are you done with your meeting already? I thought it was going to be a long, boring morning with dull investors."

"Miraculously, we got shit done quickly. Now I need someone to take me to lunch. Have you made plans yet?"

"Nope."

"Great. I'll call you at noon and we'll find something close."

"I'm penciling you in now."

This was perfect. I was dying to tell Vincent about the strange meeting with Dmitry, not to mention my annoyance with Sam's journalists making insinuations that I'd roped Vincent in with my pregnancy. Of course, complaining wouldn't do any good. The post was out there, and there were no take-backs in the world of social media. By noon, however, I'd had a chance to stew about Charlotte's article, and when Vincent and I sat at a table with our deli sandwiches, I started in with my gripe.

"Did you read the post Charlotte put on Mega Mag's website?"

"Yes, why? Didn't you like it?"

"Not really. Surprise wedding? Eligible bachelor? Written in present tense. And since when were you an 'eligible' bachelor? You were a 'confirmed' bachelor. There's a difference."

"Yes, I suppose you're right, but she did what I told her to. She kept the article short and to the point. I don't think you need to worry about it."

"Well, the comment section has been getting more lively by the hour. I assume you haven't checked that recently?"

He glanced up from his pastrami sandwich, letting his eyebrows bunch together. "No. Should I?"

"I think you should. The term shotgun wedding seems to be gaining some traction."

He huffed as he set down his sandwich, wiping his fingers on his napkin and pulling out his phone. I gave him a moment as he scrolled and read, and when he'd read enough, he returned his phone to his pocket.

"Well, Reese. You knew there would be speculation about the timing. Our first public date was October twenty-third and you got pregnant a few weeks later. There's not much I can say to convince people I haven't been hogtied."

I puckered my lips, hating the word 'hogtied'. "I knew there would be speculation, but now I'm worried about this magazine article Charlotte's writing about us and our baby. If that's what she considers to be 'to the point', I'm screwed. She knows I hate her, and the feeling is clearly mutual."

Vincent huffed again, still not picking up his sandwich. "You may be right. Charlotte probably wasn't the best choice, given the circumstances. But we have to approve the piece before she publishes it, so we can suggest changes if need be. Just chalk-up my poor judgment to baby nerves."

I smiled at him as I reached for his hand. "Don't start crying on me or we'll really be doomed. There was one other strange thing that happened at work today. Sam brought by a new investor to meet me. Dmitry Stepanov."

Vincent lifted his eyes from his lunch. "Is that so? What did the three of you talk about?"

"It was mostly an introduction, but Dmitry did invite us to a party at his home this Thursday. I told him we were leaving for Europe the next day, but he seemed insistent that we attend. Sam and Beth will be there too. He said he'll send a courier to deliver the invite and a map. Do you think he's inviting us so he can talk to you about the artifact?"

Vincent had gone quiet, and he finally took a bite of his sandwich. I waited for him to chew, knowing he was working on a response. "I can't think of any other reason why a known recluse would invite us to a party at his home in the Peekskill mountains."

"So, he lives in the mountains? That's probably why he's sending a map."

"Yes. From the satellite pictures I've looked at, he lives on the site of a finishing school, and there's an extensive maze on the property."

"Wow, a recluse and a maze. This sounds like the kind of party we shouldn't miss. I wonder if the maze is like the one in Goblet of Fire or The Labyrinth. Hopefully, there isn't a minotaur hidden somewhere." I chuckled to myself as I dug into my turkey on rye, but Vincent didn't seem to enjoy my joke.

"Do you really want to go to this party?"

"Sure. I rarely turn down party invites, especially ones shrouded in mystery. I don't doubt the guy has an agenda, but if he tries to talk you out of the artifact, you can just tell him to shove it."

"If the guy was willing to spend one-hundred thousand dollars on the artifact, I don't think telling him to shove it will do the trick, but it is a good reason to investigate him further."

"So, we're going?"

After a resigned sigh, Vincent nodded. "Yes. We're going."