I nodded, as if I understood, but I didn’t. Nothing in my own life had prepared me to understand a parental relationship where a simple visit home had to be planned with the strategic cunning of a military engagement.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’re planning to accept this case,” I said.

“No. My intention is simply not to refuse as vehemently as I normally do, or he’ll blame you, however illogical the reasoning. I will hear him out, and I will endeavor to be more receptive to his paternal attentions than is my wont.”

“Uh-huh.”

Lucas smiled. “In other words, I’ll make nice.” He pushed his half-filled glass to the middle of the table. “We have a few blocks to walk. I know it’s hot. We could call a cab—”

“Walking is good,” I said. “Though I can just imagine what the humidity has done to my hair. I’m going to meet your family looking like a poodle with a live wire shoved up its butt.”

“You look beautiful.”

He said it with such sincerity, I’m sure I blushed. I grabbed his hand and tugged him to his feet.

“Let’s get this over with. We meet the family. We fill out the forms. We find a hotel, buy a bottle of champagne, and see if I can’t get that spell working for you.”

“You’ll get it working?”

“No offense, Cortez, but your Hebrew sucks. You’re probably mispronouncing half the words.”

“Either that or my spell-casting simply lacks your expert proficiency.”

“Never said it. Well, not today. Today, I’m being nice to you.”

He laughed, brushed his lips across my forehead, and followed me out of the café.

I’d never been to Miami before, and coming into the city by cab I hadn’t been impressed. Let’s just say, if the taxi had got a flat tire, I wouldn’t have left the vehicle, not even armed with a passel of fireball spells. Now, though, we walked through the southeast section of the downtown core, along a dramatic row of steel and mirrored-glass skyscrapers overlooking the impossibly blue waters of Biscayne Bay. The tree-lined streets looked like they’d been scrubbed clean, and the only people hanging out on the sidewalk were sipping five-dollar coffees on café patios. Even the hot-dog vendors wore designer shades.

I expected Lucas to lead me to some seedy part of town, where we’d find the offices of the Cortez Corporation cleverly disguised in a run-down warehouse. Instead, we stopped in front of a skyscraper that looked like a monolith of raw iron ore thrust up from the earth, towers of mirrored windows angled to catch the sun and reflect it back in a halo of brilliance. At the base of the building the recessed doors opened to a street-front oasis with wooden benches, bonsai, overhanging ferns, and a circular waterfall ringed with moss-covered stones. Atop the waterfall was a carved granite pair of Cs. Over thedouble-width glass doors a brass plate proclaimed, with near-humble simplicity, “Cortez Corporation.”

“Holy shit,” I said.

Lucas smiled. “Reconsidering that vow never to be the CEO’s wife?”

“Never. Co-CEO, though, I might consider.”

We stepped inside. The moment the doors closed, the noise of the street disappeared. Soft music wafted past on an air-conditioned breeze. When I turned around, the outside world truly had vanished, blocked out by dark mirrored glass.

I looked around, trying very hard not to gawk. Not that I would have been out of place. Just ahead of us, a gaggle of tourists craned their necks in all directions, taking in the twelve-foot-high tropical aquariums that lined two of the walls. A man in a business suit approached the group and I tensed, certain they were going to be kicked out. Instead, he greeted the tour guide and waved them over to a table where a matron poured ice water.

“Tour groups?” I whispered.

“There’s an observatory on the nineteenth floor. It’s open to the public.”

“I’m trying not to be impressed,” I said.

“Just remind yourself where it all comes from. That helps.”

It did, dowsing my grudging admiration as quickly as if someone had dumped that pitcher of ice water over my head.

As we veered near the front desk, a thirtyish man with a news-anchor smile nearly knocked his fellow clerk flying in his hurry to get out from behind the desk. He raced toward us as if we’d just breached security, which we probably had.

“Mr. Cortez,” he said, blocking our path. “Welcome, sir. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Lucas murmured a greeting, and nudged me to the left. The man scampered after us.

“May I buzz anyone for you, sir?”

“No, thank you,” Lucas said, still walking.

“I’ll get the elevator. It’s running slow today. May I get you both a glass of ice water while you wait?”

“No, thank you.”

The man darted ahead of us to an elevator marked “Private.” When Lucas reached for the numeric pad, the clerk beat him to it and punched in a code.

The elevator arrived, and we stepped on.

The Wages of Sin Pay Very Nicely Indeed

INSIDE, THE ELEVATOR LOOKED AS IF IT HAD BEEN CARVED from ebony. Not a single fingerprint marred the gleaming black walls and silver trim. The floor was black marble veined with white. How much money does a company need to make before it starts installing marble floors in the elevators?

A soft whir sounded and on what had appeared to be a seamless wall, a door slid open to reveal a computer panel and small screen. Lucas’s fingers flew over the keypad. Then he pressed his thumb against the screen. The computer chimed, the panel slid shut, and the elevator began to rise.