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The faint smile tilted into something closer to a smirk. “Obviously, yes, we did not wish to give out our real names to the hired help. We’d hoped to intrigue you into coming to visit with us, Mr. Black. We did not mean to come across as facetious… or overly affected.”

Black grunted. “Right.”

“My real name is––”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Black cut in, blunt. “Not until I know what you want. I’d wager I’m less trustworthy than ‘the help’ you declined to be transparent with just now. I’m significantly more petty and vindictive than any of them.”

A silence fell.

Black never minded awkward silences. He found them useful.

He took another sip of the delicious, mind-blowing strong coffee, and waited.

“We did not mean to cause offense,” Mr. Gold began cautiously.

“No, you meant to intrigue me.” Black smiled, but didn’t let it touch his eyes. “Or possibly convince me you’re supremely important persons, or members of one terrifyingly clever and dangerous clandestine service or another.” Black took another sip, that depthless smile still on his face. “Which tells me you probablyaren’tvery important, and likelynotworth mypersonal time and attention. Otherwise you wouldn’t need to play these stupid games.”

Another sip. His gaze remained flat.

“Although,” he added thoughtfully. “I suppose your efforts were also a success, given I’m here, standing in front of you.”

He took another sip of the macchiato and shrugged.

“How can I help you both?” he asked politely.

The politeness sounded maybe just the tiniest bit mocking.

His eyes slid to the woman, Ms. Silver, who remained standing a few feet behind Mr. Gold. She never offered her hand, or made any indication she intended to come closer. She didn’t smile, frown, or look embarrassed at his words, but gazed at Black silently, Sphinx-like. Her pale blue eyes were difficult to read, even for him.

Her mind appeared to be entirely blank.

Black took a sip of the macchiato, grimaced.

He never took his eyes off the woman.

Her light definitely felt human. Had she spent years practicing some form of mental training? Meditation? Qi-Gong? Scientology? Did she have some latent sight ability of her own, like a handful of humans he’d encountered over the years?

Of course, there was also a chance she knew what he was.

If so, there was an easy enough remedy, but first he’d want to know where the hell she came from. He’d also want to know who else might know.

Who the fuck were these weirdos?

His eyes flickered back to Mr. Gold.

“State your business,” he said, a touch less polite. “Or I’m going to decide I’m not very intrigued after all, and send one of my employees in here to deal with you.”

The smile on the Frenchman’s face remained friendly, if now verging on knowing.

Or smarmy.

“You do not knowus,perhaps,” Gold conceded. “But you surely know the person and companies we represent. We would like to hire you for a task that requires a great deal of discretion, Mr. Black. Both political and media discretion… and in terms of law enforcement.”

Black’s antennae went up.

He grunted, looking between them. “Law enforcement?”

The man seemed to read his expression. He held up both hands in a calming gesture, palms forward.