Chapter 7: Eyes of the Wolf - The Night Market

The lift hummed as it climbed.

Pepper stood beside Viola, watching the glowing numbers tick upward one more, one after the other. The envelope in her hand felt heavier with every floor.

‘So,’ she murmured, ‘she’s completely insane.’

Viola didn’t blink. ‘One would think. I’m not entirely sure myself. I understand her just enough to carry out my duties. She’s a handful, yes, but the fact remains, she is one of the most important individuals in the family. And importance, Pepper, always demands respect. Whether or not they make sense.’

‘Of course.’ Pepper twisted the envelope between her fingers, the name Canis in cursive across its front. ‘Is the brother the same?’

Viola gave a faint breath of a laugh. ‘No, thankfully not. Not as . . . spontaneous. Positively boring in comparison – but not in a bad way, no, not that. No, he’s a lot more . . . he is exactly how you would expect someone of his position to be.’

Pepper wasn’t sure that was comforting.

The lift gave a soft metallic sigh and came to a stop on floor 75. A gentle chime. The doors parted.

And the world changed.

It was like stepping into a magazine spread – cool whites, polished beige, and clean architectural lines that hummed wealth without ever raising its voice. Plinths held tasteful sculptures in gentle spotlight. A silent television whispered rolling news on a far wall, Vivaldi’s ‘Summer’ played somewhere discreetly. Art – real, original art – graced the walls in subtle, casual symmetry. It didn’t just look expensive. It looked curated.

‘Quite the transition, huh?’ Viola remarked as they stepped into the corridor.

‘This is what I expected downstairs,’ Pepper said under her breath, eyes drawn to the luxury.

‘Not quite the black sheep, this one,’ Viola replied with a small smirk. ‘Canis is very much a creature of presence. He cultivates his image like one would a garden. He needs to. He’s always on parade. Never not in the spotlight.’

‘It’s so impressive.’ Pepper fought the urge to gawk about herself.

‘Indeed, it is.’

There were guests: multiple, moneyed and indulgent, leaning on balcony railings, laughing over champagne, canapés and hushed gossip. A terrace shimmered in the spotlights, complete with a pool and flickering screens showing market reports no one seemed to be watching. A woman was in the throes of seducing a young man on a white leather sofa, paying special attention to his neck. His moans were such that Pepper couldn’t tell if his life was being drained away or he was in the midst of an orgasm.

There he was.

Canis Cavendish. Standing at the far end of the room, like the centrepiece of a gallery few could afford the admission fee of. Tall. Dressed in a white silk suit that managed to avoid pretence through sheer confidence. Hair pale gold, a waterfall of elegance falling past his shoulders. He held a glass of something amber in one hand, the other resting lightly on the shoulder of a younger man – a guest by all signs, flushed from drink or attention or both.

He turned at the arrivals.

‘Ah, Viola,’ Canis greeted, voice like velvet being ironed. ‘Good evening. I hope you haven’t been troubled by my guests?’

‘Not at all.’ Viola smiled, folding her hands. ‘Everyone has been perfectly civil.’

‘Really?’ His gaze slid to the man beside him. ‘Do you hear that? I must be losing my touch. If word gets out I’m not scandalous anymore, how ever will I cope?’

‘I highly doubt that day will come, sir,’ Viola said, and to Pepper’s surprise, blushed faintly.

‘You flatter me.’ Canis shot a smile, then leaned toward his companion. ‘Why don’t you run along and join the others out on the terrace? I’ll be along momentarily. Fix me something strong while you’re waiting. I have high hopes for tonight.’

The young man nodded, murmured something, and left. His fingers lingered just a beat too long on Canis’s sleeve before releasing. Then, finally, Canis turned his full attention on Pepper.

‘And who,’ he said, voice dipped in silk, ‘is this rather startling creature?’

‘Canis,’ Viola began, ‘this is Pepper Montgomery. She’s recently joined us in an upper-floor capacity. General duties. She’ll be assigned to floors, including yours, moving forward.’

He took Pepper’s hand gently and brought it to his lips. ‘Enchanté,’ he purred. ‘A pleasure . . . though I don’t recall seeing you about until now. And I am very good with faces.’

‘She’s only been with us a short while,’ Viola explained. ‘Elevated by your father’s request, no less.’

Canis arched a perfectly manicured brow. ‘Ah. That sounds highly suspicious.’

‘Not necessarily. She is Laik’s sister.’

‘Is she now?’ His eyes flicked up with mild interest. ‘The old man does have a soft spot for his golden boy. Well. I do hope you don’t share his . . . affliction.’

‘Not at all, sir,’ Pepper said, steady. ‘My brother’s burdens are his own to manage and his own alone. I’m unaffected by such a thing. Please judge me on my actions, not on his behaviour.’

‘Reassuring to know,’ Canis said with a warm nod. ‘The last thing I need is a commotion like that rearranging my affairs. That is not to say he is not an asset, please do not get the wrong impression. My family is very grateful to have him serve. He is, unfortunately, just . . . prone to drama. How are you finding your position, Pepper?’

‘I enjoy the work, sir,’ Pepper replied. ‘There’s always something new to learn. And I take the trust placed in me seriously.’

‘As you should.’ He studied her a moment longer. ‘And how are you finding my home?’

‘It’s . . . fine, sir.’

‘Fine?’ He tilted his head with mock injury. ‘I was rather hoping that being welcomed into the innermost sanctum of the Cavendish dynasty would inspire a touch more awe.’

‘Oh! No, I didn’t mean—’

‘He’s teasing,’ Viola interrupted, dry but smiling. ‘Tell her you’re teasing, Canis.’

Canis gave a slow smile. ‘I’m teasing. Pay no mind, I’m simply indulging myself. So, what brings you here? Is Viola simply giving you the tour?’

‘Actually,’ Viola said, producing the envelope from Pepper’s hands, ‘we’ve just come from your sister. She insisted we deliver this to you posthaste.’

‘Haste, huh?’

Canis took the envelope delicately, looked over its particulars, then opened it. A coil of black landed in a hand. ‘A dead spider. Correction: a flat dead spider.’ His expression didn’t shift. He turned the paper to face them. There, in the centre of a piece of stained cream paper, written with perfect cursive script, was the word Dunce. ‘Lovely.’

He sighed, but it turned into a laugh. ‘That girl, I swear.’

He looked down at the spider again, returned it to the envelope, along with the letter itself, and placed it upon a side table. ‘Family, eh?’ he said with a genuine smile. ‘What ever shall we do with them? As treasured as they are . . .’

Canis stepped through the open glass doors and onto the balcony, the throb of motion down in the streets bubbling up to meet him. The city stretched beneath them, a sprawl of twinkling lights and monolithic glass office buildings. The passing clouds soaked in artificial light presented pockets of stars.

He leaned against the railing, cradling a half-finished drink, watching the lazy blinking of a police helicopter as it went on its way.

‘Will I have the pleasure of you both joining us this evening?’ he asked, not bothering to look over his shoulder.

Viola let out a startled gasp. Her fingers went to the collar of her blouse, tugging at a crease that wasn’t there. ‘Oh, I hadn’t expected . . . I mean, I’m hardly dressed for such an invitation—’

‘A problem easily rectified, Viola, you know that,’ Canis said with the faintest smile. Then he turned, his gaze drifting to Pepper.

She straightened instinctively, then gave a small shake of her head. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to pass. My shift’s nearly over, and I’ve somewhere I need to be.’

Viola blinked, almost insulted by the refusal, though she said nothing.

Pepper added, more softly, ‘Family matters. The kind you don’t miss. Treasure, like you say.’

Canis didn’t press her. His expression barely shifted. ‘Of course. But know the absence will be noticed. Next time, maybe.’

He turned his gaze skyward, to the upper reaches of the tower where Lord and Lady Cavendish stood silhouetted on a higher balcony, their heads close in quiet conversation. Their words didn’t carry, but their presence alone held gravity, as if they were looking out across their domain, their entire domain, and discussing how it should be shaped. Despite being only a few floors away, they didn’t acknowledge him, though noticed his presence, without so much as a wave.

In response, Canis drew a sleek phone from his pocket, tapped out a message with his thumb, and hit send. The screen cast a brief glow against his face before vanishing into the folds of his pale jacket.

‘We all have our places to be . . .’