Chapter 29 - The Subterfuge

The decisive handshake across the table solidified the pact, a crackle of energy passing between them. Steve sat back, the plush leather of the booth sighing beneath him. Heather watched, a queen observing her prince take his first true command, her enormous chest rising with a soft, proud breath that strained the silk of her blouse. Matthew’s gray eyes, sharp and assessing, never left Steve’s face.

“Great! Welcome aboard!” Steve said, a new confidence threading through his voice. “I already have a couple of tasks for you before our next meeting. By then, I should have the team completed.”

Matthew leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Who will be on the team?”

“We need a social media expert, I already have a clan historian in mind, a computer and hacker expert. Finally, a journalist would be great, too. All clan, of course.”

Matthew nodded slowly, the gears visibly turning in his head. “You need one more, I think. A lawyer well-versed in international law would be indispensable. They can help you navigate through what is legal and what isn’t across different jurisdictions.”

Steve’s brow furrowed as he considered the suggestion, his mind racing through the implications. “We might have to break some laws to succeed here,” he conceded, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “By the end, no one but the inner circle should know the truth.”

“You may not have to,” Matthew countered smoothly, a sly smile playing on his lips. “A lawyer capable of navigating the legal labyrinths might find loopholes we can exploit. Legal loopholes. You need to prepare for every eventuality, Steve ... including the possibility of getting caught.” He let the weight of that statement hang in the air for a moment before adding, “A good lawyer isn’t just a shield; they’re a weapon. We find the right one, and they can help us write the rules in our favor.”

Heather’s low, throaty chuckle drew both their attentions. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, the simple movement a study in sensual grace. “Matthew’s right, darling. You’re thinking like a revolutionary, which is exciting, but a true dynasty is built on a foundation of law as much as it is on passion. We’ve survived this long because we’re meticulous.” Her green eyes, so much like his own, held his gaze. “We find a legal mind from the group. Someone who understands our ... unique needs. They will be the final piece.”

The conversation shifted into a rapid-fire exchange of names, connections, and clan lineages that Steve was still learning. Heather and Matthew volleyed potential candidates back and forth with the ease of seasoned strategists, their shared history a tangible force in the booth. Steve listened, absorbing it all, feeling the immense power of the network he now found himself at the center of.

Steve let them debate potential candidates, the names and connections flying back and forth across the table like pieces in a high-stakes chess game. The conversation was intense, each suggestion weighed carefully, but when the food arrived, an unspoken agreement settled over them. The talk shifted to more mundane topics—the weather, the latest news, the quality of the wine—as they began to eat.

The meal was nothing short of sublime, each bite a symphony of flavors that danced on his tongue. Steve couldn’t recall ever eating this well in his entire life. As he savored a particularly exquisite shrimp tartare in a lemon-saffron emulsion, he made a mental note to resume his daily swimming laps when he returned home. Otherwise, he thought with a smirk, I’ll balloon up from all this rich food.

When the plates were cleared and coffee was brought out, the air shifted once more. The clink of cups and saucers mingled with the soft murmur of the restaurant as they settled back into their booth. Matthew leaned forward, his gray eyes sharp with curiosity.

“So,” he began, his tone casual but laced with intent, “what are the tasks you want me to do?”

Steve leaned forward, his fingers tracing the edge of his cup as he turned to Matthew and then to Heather. “First, we need a roadmap,” he began, his voice low but deliberate, each word measured. “What are the steps we need to take to reach our goal? We can’t just dive in blindly and your experience is crucial here.”

He paused, his eyes shifting to his grandmother, who slid a thick folder across the table toward him. The leather-bound file was heavy, its contents dense with information on the leaders of the interventionist. “I need a detailed report on their comings and goings—every move, every pattern.”

Matthew nodded, his gray eyes narrowing as he absorbed Steve’s words.”We need to anticipate their next moves. Predictability is a vulnerability, and we need to exploit it.”

Heather’s hand rested lightly on Steve’s arm, her touch both grounding and commanding. “And don’t forget their connections,” she added, her voice silken yet firm. “Their allies, their enemies—those are just as important as their routines.

Matthew nodded, his expression serious but approving. “Consider it done.”

“Good,” Steve continued, leaning in slightly, his voice carrying a measured intensity. “This isn’t an immediate concern, but we’ll need to establish a buffer of people between us and the work we’ll be doing. They must be independent from each other—completely isolated—and contacted without exposing ourselves when the time comes. Think about how to approach them discreetly. This should be included within your first task.”