DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them, along with a lot of other folks at FOX, various production companies and a network or two. Joss has publicly stated that BtVS was always intended as a show which would inspire fanfiction. Fanfiction he wanted, fanfiction he’s got. No infringement intended.

RATING: NC17

SPOILERS: Everything through the end of seasons 5/2.

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Storming Heaven  part 7

After his dream of Buffy, Angel felt more focused, more vigorous, more centered than he had felt in a long, long time. He had stopped brooding over his sins when he’d had his first epiphany, following the disaster with Darla. But that had only been a first step. Then, his change of attitude had been due to the recognition that there was nothing he could possibly do to make up for the pain and torment he’d caused to those now long dead. The point to his continued existence and his mission to help the helpless hadn’t been to balance the scales in his own personal tally of good deeds vrs. bad deeds, as he’d always believed, but to maintain a greater balance, between the forces for Good and the forces of Evil that were abroad in the world. Or so he’d thought. Now he realized the truth. The world was meant to end, and he was meant to end it. Nothing in his life or unlife had been an accident. His place in the scheme of things had long been foretold, and the reason why he’d found Darla in that ally, why he’d been cursed by Gypsies, why he’d been led to the One Girl in All the World chosen to destroy his kind, why he’d loved her enough to lose his soul for her, why he’d been released from Hell, why she’d been restored to him only long enough for him to sacrifice his ability to stay with her, and why she’d been taken from him a final time, was simply because he had a task to perform, and he had to be fitted for that task.

He was more fit for that role, now, than he’d ever been as Angelus. Angelus had only tried to bring Acathla to life out of boredom and frustration at his inability to get the better of the Slayer. He’d had no great plan other than to bring the demon dimension of Hell to earth, and amuse himself at the eternity of torment the humans would experience. He’d hoped that Buffy would survive long enough for him to turn her, but he’d never given much thought to what would happen after that. Angelus was a fighter, but not a warrior, clever and crafty, but not wise. And his besetting sin had always been impatience

Angel’s besetting sins no longer haunted him. Guilt, regret, remorse . . . they were meaningless. Soon, nothing would matter. Humanity would shortly be put out of its collective misery, all its suffering and torment cleansed away by a fire that would consume the world, and Angel would be left with the one thing that had ever given that world meaning: the woman he loved held safe in his arms, his forever.

He did not dream of starting a second Eden, of repopulating a purified world. Even if his dead seed could take root in Buffy’s womb, he would not want to start the whole useless, painful, pointless cycle of human need, desire and loss all over again. He only dreamed of Buffy, of being with her as, he knew now he had been created to be with her, in the ways that had been too long denied them.

He no longer worried about his friends, or Buffy’s. Wolfram & Hart wouldn’t care about a dozen humans, out of the six billion on the planet. Angel would extend his protection to them, ensuring that they would live out their lives comfortably. They wouldn’t understand, would call him evil for his actions, a slaughterer on a scale even Angelus would have envied, but he no longer cared about the opinions of others. Let them face the cold indifference, the arrogance and disinterest of the supposedly beneficent Powers whose champion he had been, and then let them name him evil if they dared.

He no longer brooded over the possibility of his Shan-shu, the possibility of failing in whatever mission of redemption had been set before him, the possibility of disappointing his friends, failing them, failing to protect them. Everything in him was focused on one thing only: bringing about the Apocalypse as expeditiously as possible, so that he could end the world and reclaim Buffy.

Not that he could do it immediately, of course. A fact Nathan Reed seemed not to understand.

"I must say, Angel, I was expecting you to be a bit more. . . aggressive," Reed said a week after their initial meeting. They were once again in Reed’s office. Lilah had not joined them. "If you’re going to lead the hordes of Hell, I would have thought that you’d be busy recruiting them, or, training the volunteers we already have."

"At the right time. For now, just have your people get the items I requested," Angel told him. "And, be careful what you wish for."

"I beg you’re pardon?"

Angel favored Nathan with a derisive smile. "You don’t really want me to be aggressive about ending the world, Nathan, you want me to be cautious, thoughtful and disciplined. That’s why my soul was returned; so that when the time came, your armies wouldn’t be in the charge of an impatient hothead. Angelus, I assure you, would have been thoroughly aggressive about bringing on the apocalypse. And, he wouldn’t have been too particular about either the cost of his ultimate victory, or which humans got caught up in the destruction."

"I’m not certain the senior partners particularly care, either," Nathan frowned. "I think they believe that the protection they offer those in their employ--"

"Won’t be sufficient if things go wrong," Angel said bluntly. "I can initiate the apocalypse. I can even promise to control it. Within limits. But I can’t promise those limits will be anything other than very narrow and very specific."

"Oh?" Nathan shifted uneasily in his chair. They were trying to make all Hell break loose in the most literal sense possible. That much power and mayhem was going to require a formidable amount of control, if it were to be used for the benefit of Wolfram & Hart, rather than allowed to disintegrate into pure chaos. Nathan wasn’t sure what he had expected, but the idea that Angel wouldn’t have a totally free hand when he set about bringing on the darkness was unsettling. Nathan had rather been counting on enjoying Angel’s protection when the time came.

"I’m a vampire, Reed. Not a god," Angel told him, easily discerning the cause of the other man’s wariness. "I can free the hosts of hell, and force them to obey me. But I can’t be everywhere at once, and I can’t promise that in the process of winning the war for you, there won’t be casualties. Just the opposite: in war, there are always casualties. The difference between me and my aggressive, impatient alter ego is that I will do what can be done to minimize those casualties. He was exactly the kind of twisted bastard who would have gotten a kick out of decimating his allies almost as badly as he was decimating his enemies."

"I see," Nathan said thoughtfully, realizing that it was probably just as well that the firm’s plans to use Darla’s to remove Angel’s soul hadn’t worked out. "Still, I would think that the challenge of exerting the degree of control you think will be required would be all the more reason for you to begin training your troops," he asserted.

Angel’s glance flickered contemptuously over the soft, middle-aged man who likely had never trained with anything more demanding than a set of aerobic weights. "For nearly two hundred and fifty years, I’ve been one of the most deadly creatures on the face of the planet. I’ve had more demons at my beck and call than you’ve probably ever encountered in your life, even here at Wolfram & Hart. I know what I need in order to be ready. I doubt I’ll lose my edge in the next few weeks."

"A few weeks?" Once again, Nathan Reed’s dismay was evident. "Surely there’s no need to wait that long?" Angel cast him another derisive look as he turned away from the window.

"Have your sorcerers explain it to you," he said, bored. "They know what I’m waiting for." With that, Angel left Reed’s office, and headed down the corridor to Lilah’s.

This was the first visit he was paying her since their initial encounter. He didn’t need to feed from her every day, and, since he’d fed quite well from the supplies in his refrigerator before coming here, he could survive without seeing her for a few more days. But his brief interview with Reed had annoyed him, and there was nothing like the taste of hot flesh and living blood to wash the annoyance from his system.

A passing clerk gave him directions to her office, and the receptionist outside her door cheerfully offered to let Ms. Morgan and the secretary she was reviewing notes with, know he was there.

"No thanks," Angel said, his hand already on the doorknob. "I’ll announce myself."

"But, sir," she began not quite so cheerfully. He ignored her and walked in. Lilah and her secretary both looked up in surprise when he interrupted their meeting. Something flickered in Lilah’s eyes when she saw him, but whether eagerness or dread, he couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, she quickly regained her composure.

"Angel," she said pleasantly. "I wasn’t expecting you." She turned to the young woman at her side. "We can go over the rest of this later. Just get the files on the Sedgewick case, and compare them with what Rachel has on the Harding Merger. We’ll start fresh, tomorrow. Oh, and, see that I’m not disturbed." As she spoke, she used the cover of her desk to quickly push off her sensible pumps and slip her feet into a new pair, kept under her desk for just such emergencies as an unexpected visit from Angel.

The secretary quickly gathered her notes and left the office with a murmured acquiescence to Lilah’s briskly dictated orders. As soon as the girl was out the door, Lilah stood up, and walked toward the reason the senior partners had sent her the Tiffany diamond and platinum necklace thank you present currently locked in the safe in her apartment, awaiting an occasion to be worn. Lilah wondered if she might be able to induce Angel to create such an occasion. Something to think about, later.

"Are you feeling . . .hungry?" she asked, now. Her mouth, lipstick stained to the shade of ripe, dark berries, curved into a wicked smile as she came nearer.

"Somewhat," Angel admitted watching her approach. Lilah had purchased a stunning pair of spiked heels in a rich burgundy leather that perfectly complimented her suit, and had to have been specially dyed. The height of the heels forced her to take small, cautious steps. They also caused her hips to sway enticingly. Not that he felt particularly enticed. His hunger was for blood, not flesh. Still, as far as meals went, Lilah was a tasty one.

"Far be it from me to let you starve," she smirked as she drew closer. Angel reached out and grabbed her ass, hauling her forward, even as he went down on his knees. She gasped as his cold hands deftly slid beneath the hem of her skirt and pushed it up to her waist.

The heels lifted her to just the right height, and he was pleased to see that she’d taken his warning to heart. She wasn’t wearing panties, and nothing was between his face and her hot cunt. Of course, she was a little too sure of his intentions, so he wasn’t going to get the fear he’d enjoyed so much, last time. At least not yet. By the time he was through with her, she might be just a little less certain of her place in the scheme of things.

He began with a brutal assault on her clit, including a nip with just a hint of fang. Lilah gave a short, high yelp, more of surprise than pain. Then his first finger thrust inside her, pumping her, and she moaned deeply, pressing herself against his face. Sliding in a second finger elicited more breathy moans, and she began to shake, collapsing over him, holding onto his shoulders to keep upright. The third had her sobbing and whimpering. But he was a large man, with large hands, and when he forced the forth finger in, angling it just so, he pushed Lilah onto the line between intense pleasure and exquisite pain.

"Stop," she begged, trying to wiggle away. Angel ignored her, his free hand grasping her hip, keeping her firmly in place. "Please," she whimpered, and he heard the note of uncertainty, could almost feel the first faint shiver of dread, as Lilah remembered she was in the arms of a demon, not a mortal man. He twisted his fingers just a little, and she yelped again, more in fear than not . . .until he lashed her clit with his tongue and the yelp changed once more to a needy sob.

Now he had her exactly where he wanted her, balanced on a knife’s edge of fear and desire, utterly uncertain of his intentions, only aware that she could do nothing to stop whatever he had in mind.

He was going to kill her, she thought, split her in half on his fingers the way he’d almost done on his cock. And, it was going to feel almost as good. Whatever Angel chose to do to her, no one in Wolfram & Hart would try to stop him. She could scream her lungs out, and everyone would turn a deaf ear. No one would care whether she were screaming in unholy ecstasy or unimaginable terror, unless and until they were required to dispose of her lifeless corpse. Even then, such disposals were routine matters at the firm. Her own staff would simply accept their reassignment to a new VP--probably that weasel, Robert, whom Nathan Reed had appointed her assistant only a few days before--as par for the course. Knowing this, she didn’t bother to scream. And, knowing Angel, she didn’t bother to beg. She simply clung to him, and waited for him to do whatever he wanted. His fingers twisted inside her once more, and she whimpered as she seesawed between rapture and agony and back again. His thrusts turned more brutal, and she gasped as the edge went over to the agony side of things and stayed there. She was crying now, unable to restrain the gasping, hopeless sobs. Angel heard her, and growled in satisfaction. The reverberations of that growl against her abused clit sent an unexpected frisson of pleasure scorching along her nerves, and her sobs turned into a keening wail of desire.

Angel fastened blunt teeth on her clit, sucking harshly as he thrust his fingers deeper inside her. Lilah exploded into orgasm, shrieking. Then, the blunt teeth became sharp fangs, sinking into her pulsing flesh and she screamed in earnest.

The ambrosial mixture of fear-laced blood and female release slid over Angel’s lips and tongue and he eagerly drank them down, sucking Lilah into a second orgasm before the first had quite finished. Her shaking legs were no longer up to the task of supporting her, so he lowered her to the floor and continued to suck and nip at her until a third orgasm shook her. Only when the final tremors had left her body, and she was splayed limp beneath him, did he begin to slowly, gently withdraw his fingers. Lilah sighed in relief.

Too soon.

Angel began to gently lick her plump folds once more, ignoring her whimpered protests from his abuse of her too-tender flesh, until those whimpers changed into something other than protests. Where he had been quick and brutal, he was now slow and delicate, his ministrations almost tender. Now, he used one finger not to thrust inside, but to lightly tease and caress her outer lips and to replace his questing tongue as he moved his mouth over her mound, and then away, to her damp thighs. He was kissing her inner thigh when he felt her reach a fourth climax, her body going ridged with the force of her release as she let loose another series of uncontrollable cries. It was the perfect moment for him to slide into game face, and sink his fangs into the femoral artery of her thigh. As her body arched beneath him in an exquisite mixture of anguish and rapture, he drank down lusty gulps of the hot blood pumping from the violated artery.

He didn’t dare take too much. Not that he particularly objected to killing Lilah. But if he did, he’d have to find someone else to appease his appetites, and he really didn’t want to be bothered. Lilah’s responses were exactly what he wanted; her blood was, if not the finest he’d ever tasted, certainly delectable enough; and her position with Wolfram & Hart was useful to him. So, he regretfully forced himself away from the red fountain beneath his lips, withdrawing his fangs and licking the tiny wounds closed. In a few minutes, Lilah was once more limp beneath him, her final orgasm having run its course. He glanced up and noticed that tears were leaking from beneath her closed eyelids.

Angel supposed he ought to pity her, but he no longer had the capacity. There was a lesson to be learned here, if she were astute enough to grasp it. He bent his head toward her clit once more. In a few minutes, he forced her to a fifth climax, rolling his cool tongue delicately over her abused clit as she sobbed and beat at his shoulders to make him stop. He ignored her sobs, and her pummeling fists until she collapsed back against the floor again, and the final spasms ebbed from her body.

Angel waited a moment, sure that the last quivering after shocks had faded away, then got up. There was a pitcher of water on her desk, and a few paper towels beside it. He used them to clean his face and hands.

Lilah watched him, too exhausted to move. She was tumbled across the carpet of her office like a $20 whore spread over the nearest flat surface. Lilah really hated the smug bastard, at that moment. Once again, he had used her, servicing her like a bull so that he could get what he wanted: not his own release, but a share of her blood. If her bosses weren’t so keen on having him on their team, and if he hadn’t once again delivered a series of the most intense orgasms of her life, she could have cheerfully staked him, herself. In fact, when all this was over, and Wolfram & Hart had gotten what they wanted from him, she might just do that yet.

Then again, they had been the most intense orgasms of her life, and it might be a long, long time before she found a lover who had anywhere near his prowess, especially as the human male population was about to be drastically reduced.

Lilah intended to survived the coming apocalypse, and she knew Angel had every intention of doing so, as well. Of course, he’d have his girlfriend back, by then, but perhaps she could persuade him that with his appetites--and vampiric appetites were legendarily huge--he might be better off with two lovers instead of one. Lilah was a pragmatic woman. She didn’t mind sharing, provided there was enough to go around. Angel seemed to have plenty.

As she watched him toss the used paper towels into the trash basket beneath her desk, and straighten his rumpled shirt, Lilah rolled to her side, resting her head on her hand.

"So, how long does it take you to work up an appetite?"she drawled. Angel looked at her, one brow raised.

"No time at all," he said. "The same can’t be said for your recovery from blood loss."

"You didn’t take that much," she said lightly.

"No," he agreed pleasantly, "I didn’t." He came toward her, and offered her a hand up. She moved closer to him, smiling. The thin smile he gave in return did not reach his eyes, and he made no move to kiss her, or to embrace her. "If you want to tempt the fates, Lilah, be ready tomorrow night. I’ve given a list of things that I require to Reed. There’s no reason why you can’t deliver them. Just come by after work."

"All right."

"And, make sure you have a large dinner before you arrive. My kitchen’s limited, and you’ll need your strength."

"Will I?" she purred. "Sounds promising."

"You’ll find I keep my promises," Angel said, and let her go.

Angel was as good as his word. She found that he kept his promises. And, she found that she wasn’t sure she liked it.

Things had started well enough. As soon as Jerry, the security guard who’d carried up the boxes, was gone, Angel had unceremoniously slammed her up against the wall, hoisted her skirts and thrust into her, fucking her hard and fast until she’d come screaming half a dozen times. The heels had just about been high enough, but she had still been supported mainly by his cock and his hands, holding her against the wall. He didn’t drink from her, then, but he didn’t take his own release either. When she’d recovered from that round, he’d stripped off her dress, leaving her in her carefully chosen black lace bustier, then bent her over the camelback couch and stood behind her. She wasn’t about to object, since in her experience, that position led to deeper penetration and usually deeper satisfaction.

Then she’d felt his hands parting her cheeks, and the head of his cock pressed against a far different entrance. Lilah gasped and tried to pull away. She had zero interest in trying this form of sex, and attempted to tell him so. Angel was utterly indifferent to her interests in the matter except in so far as they served his own. She knew that with his experience, he could have made the act a pleasant one for her. That was something else to which he was currently indifferent. What followed was excruciating, burning agony, and she couldn’t control her screams. That was when his fangs came out. For a moment, there was only more pain, but as the exquisite draw of his mouth against her throat, and the flow of her blood between them continued, the eroticism of what they were doing imparted its own pleasure. Lilah bitterly wondered if, when he was through with her, she would be able to come without being bitten. Still, what he was doing hurt. As he continued to feed, Lilah was once more reduced to helpless sobs. But, within moments, she was also writhing for him as a different kind of burning seized her. He slid his fingers into her nest of curls, and quickly made her forget how much pain she was in, as he showed her how much pleasure he could give her.

In the end, she gave him everything he wanted: her flesh, her blood, her fear, her need. And her utter, abject shame at his use of her, for he still denied her the tribute of his seed.

Merely human, and weakened by the repeated loss of blood, her final orgasm taxed her beyond her reserves of strength, and she slid into the comforting safety of darkness. When she woke up, she was lying on the couch, a pillow thrust under her head and a fur throw draped over her body. Angel was sitting opposite her, fully dressed once more.

"Good. You’re awake. Drink this." He held out a glass. Groggily, Lilah took it, one brow raised. "Orange juice?"

"The potassium will help minimize the effects of the blood loss," he explained. "I did warn you that you’d need your strength."

"You might have warned me about a few other things," she said, a twinge of pain in her bottom reminding her of what they’d been doing before her blood loss."

"As I recall, I told you that you were welcome to come here, if you wanted to tempt fate," he reminded her. He smiled, again without any real warmth or feeling, his eyes still cold. "Do feel free to tempt it again.

As Lilah finished her orange juice, she had the sinking feeling that she would.

That he had placed her on his couch and not in his bed was not lost upon her. Neither was the fact that he didn’t offer to have her spend the night. There were no good night kisses, no tender farewells. He put her into a cab, saying he needed to check out the contents of the boxes she’d brought him.

At work the next day, she was a little out of sorts. Blood loss made her fatigued, despite a solid night’s sleep, a hearty breakfast, and an entire carafe of orange juice. And, although she had taken a soothing warm bath when she’d returned from Angel’s, the aftereffects of last night’s activities made it difficult for her to sit comfortably. She was having a hard time concentrating on the files before her. Images of indifferent brown eyes staring down at her, even while she was in the throes of the wildest, most uncontrolled passion, memories of his cold lips pressing against her, stealing the hot blood from her veins while she whimpered and writhed beneath him, silently begging him to take more, were playing hell with her ability to focus. Lilah cursed softly and pushed the books away. If she couldn’t get a grip, she wasn’t going to get anything useful done, today. She stood up and poured herself a drink of water from the decanter on her sideboard, then got her secretary on the intercom and asked for yet more orange juice.

She wasn’t due in court until next week, but she had a meeting in two days with the client involved in the case, the president of Sedgewick Enterprises, one of Wolfram & Hart’s most lucrative concerns. Lilah wanted to make sure she was ready for him. She had a lot of work to do, and she needed to be sharp, her mind clear. She didn’t need the emotional havoc she was going through, and she didn’t need the summons to Nathan Reed’s office which arrived along with her carafe of juice.

"Lilah, my dear," Nathan greeted her effusively as she walked into his office. He waved her to a seat on the couch opposite his desk. "How are things coming with the Sedgewick case?" Lilah was surprised that he would ask. Despite the importance of the client, the legal matter was a fairly routine one for Wolfram & Hart; helping someone evade, negate or overturn a legally binding agreement that had become inconvenient.

"I think I found the loophole Barton needs so he can wriggle out of their deal with Kramer International," she said as she shifted into a more comfortable position on the couch. Fortunately, it had deep, soft cushions, which was just the thing she needed with her sore ass. "I want to check the fine print again, though, just to make sure I’ve got all the angles covered."

"Good, good. Have you brought Robert up to speed?"

Lilah raised her brows at this. Robert Pearce had joined the firm about the same time she did. They’d worked together well enough on a few projects at the beginning, when they’d both been newly hired associates, hungry for advancement, so he wasn’t a bad choice for the role. But, she hadn’t asked for an assistant, and had to wonder why Nathan made the appointment. His glib statement that all vice presidents needed assistants rang just a shade hollow.

"I’ve had Robert working on other matters," she said coolly. "After all, my main project is Angel, and he’s directed us to make a number of acquisitions on his behalf. Robert’s done quite well in obtaining them."

"So I understand," Nathan smiled pleasantly. "I also understand that you were able to deliver the items in question, personally. I’m delighted that you are seeing to it that Angel is receiving the kind of service Wolfram & Hart wants him to have."

Lilah kept her smile fixed firmly in place. The old bastard really was pleased, and had probably meant his insult in the most complimentary terms. Oh yes, she was servicing Angel, all right. Wolfram & Hart’s top priority had no cause for complaint.

"Some tasks can’t be delegated," she said tightly, refusing to let her smile slip.

"No, they can’t," Nathan agreed. "But, as any good manager knows, most things not only can be delegated, they should be. That’s why I want you to brief Robert about Sedgewick. Tell him about that loophole you found, and let him do the research. Have him meet with Barton and handle things in court while you attend to more important matters."

"More important matters," she echoed.

"As you said yourself, Angel is your main project. You know how vital he is to the firm. The senior partners are very pleased with your success, and they believe great things will come of your continued attention to the case."

"So they said," Lilah murmured, thinking of her lovely new necklace.

"Of course, we’re headed for a very critical time, right now. According to the sorcerers I’ve consulted, matters are going to start picking up speed over the next few weeks. Angel shouldn’t be distracted by minor details, or burdened with administrative details. I’m sure that you can find people to handle those things for him, and allow him to stay focused on the big picture. The senior partners want you to have all the resources you need to ensure that this most important project goes smoothly."

"What sort of resources do they have in mind?" she asked.

"Angel is the only tenant in the building we’ve placed him in, as I’m sure you know. No curious neighbors to deal with. Entire floors dedicated to combat training for the army we’ll be assembling. A few to serve as dorms for our soldiers. And, several very comfortable suites for those we expect to be close to him, to give him special assistance."

"Ah," Lilah said taking the hint. "You want me to move into one of those suites?"

"We’ve taken the liberty of having the one next to him furnished for you," Nathan said reaching into his desk drawer for a small oblong box which he placed on his desk. The box was just large enough to hold a set of keys. "A moving company is transferring your possessions from your condominium, even as we speak. You still hold title, of course, should you desire to return there in the future. But I imagine that the times ahead will provide far more appealing options." He slid the box across his desk, toward her. Lilah reached forward to pick it up. Opening it, she noticed the set of car keys that accompanied the ones to her new home. She raised a brow at that. Reading her look, Nathan chuckled.

"Your old car didn’t have tinted windows," he explained. "I think you’ll find your new BMW much more suitable for your current needs."

"Of course," she said, lifting the keys out of their box. The key chain from which they hung suspended was a charming sterling silver trinket that probably owed its exquisite design to another Tiffany craftsman, just like her necklace. Underneath the keys lay yet one more trinket. This one was plastic, in a lovely platinum color, with her name embossed on the front, just above the firm’s name. Her employers certainly never did things by halves.

Lilah had no illusions about what was happening. The generous gifts, the move to the new apartment, the appointment of an assistant all meant one thing: she had become extremely valuable to the firm, but, only as an accessory to Angel. Any real work she had related to any other matter was being turned over to Robert, while she was to devote herself to whatever Angel needed. Her name would remain on the door to her office, and she would keep her title, her salary, and whatever little bonuses the senior partners chose to bestow. But, the power she had struggled and fought for over the past few years, the position within the firm she had clawed her way into, had suddenly been stripped away. Whatever power remained to her was derived solely from her position as Angel’s mistress, if she could even call herself that.

But, whatever she called herself, she was still making the senior partners very happy. And it was up to her to make the new power she wielded far more potent and deadly than the old.

"Why don’t you meet with Robert, given him the information he needs, and let him handle Barton and Sedgewick," Nathan suggested. "Then take the rest of the day off. I’m sure you have plenty of things to arrange, and lots of shopping to do."

Lilah put the keys back on top of her brand new platinum corporate credit card and smiled coldly at Nathan Reed.

"Oh yes," she said, wondering how much she was going to have to pay for an Order of Taraka assassin to take Robert out of her way when the time came, or if she should just take out a contract on Nathan himself. After all, why settle for the vice presidency when she could make a bid for Nathan’s own job? "Lots of shopping."

________________________________________________________________________

Still not the end.

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