Page 1 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

one

There were so many ways a witch could murder her ex.

Tia Hightower stared hard at her computer screen. The report on potion distribution was one she’d been waiting for all morning, but the black type and colorful charts were obscured by the incessant tapping coming from the desk across the room.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A muscle beat in her jaw and she blinked a few times to bring the report into focus.

Maybe murder was going too far. Maiming, though…

That had real possibilities. Witches were cutthroat, especially Higher society ones like her.

Legacies like her. It would be encouraged—no, expected.

Nobody insulted or pissed off a Hightower and got away without at least a dick rash.

Amusement ghosted through her at the idea, even as the tapping picked up pace.

Taptap. Taptap. Taptap.

She blew a thin stream of breath out her nose, clinging to her poker face with a glance at the open door and the glass walls surrounding her. Her cage for the past month, thanks to her family—and his.

The stack of crystals piled in her in-tray with its shiny new logo caught her seething attention.

PH Inc. A new name for the merger of two powerful witch families.

The coming together of potion-making excellence and a company that evolved other companies.

The business that would take potions to new heights.

If she and its other next-gen warlock didn’t kill each other first.

With her mom’s warning buzzing in her mind, Tia chose the path least likely to land her in trouble. She braced her hands on the desk and pushed to stand, slow and easy. The tapping paused.

Tia didn’t need to look to know people were watching. Waiting. Tia Hightower and Henry Pearlmatter, together, in an enclosed space? Boom goes the dynamite. Even when they’d been dating—nope. No way she was going there.

She applied a tight smile to her face, like the bold red lipstick she preferred. “I’m getting coffee.”

She hurried away without offering to get him one. It was for his own good, honestly. An open container, potion ingredients lying around… Temptation was hard to resist for a reason. And it’d be so sweet to see him bark like a dog for a few hours. Be her little bitch.

But then she’d really be fucked, and her parents had made her promise not to embarrass them.

The reminder made a flush rise to her skin, hot and uncomfortable, stilettos stalling halfway through the outer office.

It wasn’t like she tried to disappoint her parents, but being herself hadn’t exactly won her “daughter of the year.” Normal childhood rebellion turned into one lecture after another, lasting through her teens, into her twenties.

Why would you play with the shy witch who’s barely society?

Why do you have to wear such bright lipstick and tight dresses?

Why can’t you be social at parties like (insert perfect Higher witch name here)?

Why open a bar with the shy witch and a human when your family legacy is more appropriate?

And of course, the kicker: Why did you let Henry Pearlmatter, shining Legacy warlock, get away?

Get away . Like she was supposed to chase after him when he’d left her first, in all the ways that mattered.

Fuck opening herself up to anyone again. She’d take easy sex and no messy emotions, thanks so much.

She ignored the curious looks as she moved forward, wishing she could hide from everyone waiting on the latest spectacle from the Hightower misfit. Fuck them, too. Pride alone powered her into the kitchen. There, mostly out of sight, she splayed her hands on the counter and let her head hang.

And fuck him if he thought she’d let him edge her out of this company. He must want to; after all, until the merger, he’d had a direct line to CEO, and he’d sacrificed everything for that goal. Everything.

Now the whispers circulated and the gossips placed their bets on who’d be made the heir —and she refused to believe it would be anyone but her.

Yes, she’d played at other careers, even opening the bar Toil and Trouble with her friends, but taking over her family’s thriving potion business had always been her plan.

A career she could make her own, be good at, love. And make her parents proud. Finally.

“Coffee sounded too good to pass up.”

At least until this fucker and his family had stuck their brooms in.

Henry’s deep voice, with its hint of New Orleans drawl, dragged up her spine and she squared her shoulders against it, curling her hands around the counter until white bone pushed against her brown skin.

She flicked him a cool look. Today he wore a tailored navy suit.

The color was vivid against his pale skin and short platinum hair and followed his muscular frame faithfully.

She hated it.

His tall body blocked most of the doorway, but past him, she saw no fewer than three workers ogling.

Don’t lose your shit.

“There’s the instant stuff,” she said in as even a tone as she could manage. “Or I was about to grind the new beans Jorge brought back from Brazil, if you want in on that.”

“You know what I want.”

She didn’t respond, didn’t trust herself to, as she measured out the beans and added them to the grinder.

He stopped close by, a wisp of his scent teasing her senses.

Memories stroked along her nerves and she gritted her teeth as she flicked the switch.

The air came alive with the sound of beans being run through the mill. She knew how they felt.

“Tia,” Henry murmured, half-behind her.

“No,” she bit out, eyes forward.

“I thought we’d agreed to be civil.”

“Do you see that pen sticking out of your jugular?”

She caught his smirk out of the corner of her eye. Asshole. She’d known he was doing it on purpose.

He moved closer. “You can’t ignore me forever.”

“Watch me.”

“All that animosity…someone might think you were still hung up on me.”

Her head whipped around, a retort ready until she caught the glint of triumph in his face. Reining it in, all she did was scoff. “I’m not the one who can’t leave the other alone. Why are you so obsessed with me?”

“If you call trying to form a functional working relationship obsessed …”

“We agreed to be civil,” she countered, realizing her voice had lifted and hushing it again. “We didn’t agree to hold hands and skip.”

He ran his tongue around his teeth. “My dad thinks—”

“Ah, yes,” she cut him off. “Dear old Dick. I hope he’s doing well.”

“Real nice.”

Considering Richard Pearlmatter was a large part of why Henry had left her, she felt her bitterness was justified.

“I never understood why you two didn’t get along. Maybe now—”

“No chance in hell,” she interrupted again. “One of the many, many benefits of not having you in my bed anymore is that I don’t have to put up with him watching me like I’m not good enough to wipe his boots. But I guess he doesn’t need me to, now he has you licking them.”

Tia flicked the grinder off as Henry opened his mouth.

He glared at her.

“Careful,” she chided as she set the coffeemaker going. The bubbling merged with her voice, hiding the unforgivably raw note. “Daddy wouldn’t want his little robot to show anything but team spirit, right?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw and victory sang in her blood. “I don’t see you fighting against Gloria’s decree, either,” he pointed out, low and tight.

Like it was the same. While Henry had been busy asking his dad how high, she’d been juggling her mom’s lectures with living her own life. But this time, she had to toe the line. This was her future, her family.

She only needed one chance.

So if biting her tongue helped her parents see she could do this, she’d leave it a ragged, bleeding stump before she screwed this up.

They stood in silence until the coffeemaker switched off. She reached into the open cupboards above their heads and picked out her mug, red with a gold T, then an obscenely pink one with a unicorn riding the handle. She offered him the latter with her lips curled.

Henry’s eyes, palest green, narrowed. A light fizzing sensation tickled her fingers before her mug disappeared from her hand and reappeared in his.

Mindful of their audience, she kept her smile in place. Barely. “Give me back my mug, jackass.”

“Say please and I’ll give it to you.”

Her smirk grew. “You’d have to beg me to ask you to give it to me ever again.”

Something invisible sizzled across the air as his head dipped toward her. “We both know I could have you on your knees if I wanted it.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re blushing.”

Goddess, she was not .

Fuck it. She’d sooner order coffee in than stay here with him one more second. “Screw you, Pearlmatter,” she hissed between her teeth.

Without looking back, she moved past him, smoothing her hands down her tight violet dress so nobody would see them fist. Or shake.

* * *

Henry didn’t watch Tia go. Instead, he carefully placed her mug on the counter and stared at the floor.

Fuck, he was such an idiot.

Civil, he’d told her. Told himself. Like he had every morning for the past month, resigned to working in close vicinity with his ex. An ex who still had the power to get under his skin. An ex he still…

Outside, a bush that was part of the newly landscaped PH Inc.

grounds caught fire, quickly smoldering to ash.

He didn’t worry about the mess; a groundskeeper would find it soon.

The chatter on the lower floors was that there was some weird fire warlock getting their kicks from burning shrubbery. If only.

Henry’s focus had always had one particular target, and eight years had done nothing to quench it. Even when their relationship was as much ash as that innocent bush outside.

He always had every intention that this day would be the one that would start them on a new path. But Tia was just so… Tia . Aggravating, provocative, unreasonable. And still so goddamn gorgeous she stopped his heart.

Pushing both hands into his hair, Henry concentrated on cooling the simmering emotions Tia always stirred.

His dad had tasked him with ensuring the seamless integration of both companies, making sure the puzzle pieces slotted together to create a stronger whole.

He’d asked Henry if Tia would be a problem for him.

It wasn’t like Henry could’ve said yes. Weakness in front of Richard Pearlmatter wasn’t acceptable.

He’d figure it out. They would. She couldn’t hate him forever.

He only needed one chance.

The past mocked him as he filled a new mug with the coffee she’d made, before he braced himself and headed back to their office.