Page 6 of Problematic

“You want me to go to Lux Draven’s tower,” I said slowly, “and . . . knock on his door. With a bouquet.”

“Not his door.” Her mouth twitched. “His elevator bank.”

“This isn’t helping.”

She chuckled, deep and scratchy. “You want more hours, no?”

I did. Rent didn’t pay itself. And double shifts kept my brain too tired to spiral.

“Yeah,” I muttered.

“Then you do the deliveries that come in.” Her tone was gentle. “It’s flowers, Liv. Not a bomb. Somebody wants to send something pretty to a monster. It happens.”

Her words sat heavy in my chest.

Pretty things for monsters.

I swallowed.

“He’s . . . dangerous,” I said.

“So are half the people we deliver to. The city’s full of teeth.” She shrugged again. “You don’t poke at him, he’ll have no reason to poke at you.”

Easy for her to say. She had power coiled under her skin. Old demon magic that crackled when she snapped her fingers. People thought twice before messing with her.

Me?

I had a delivery jacket and a decent knack for apartment numbers.

“I’m powerless,” I reminded her, quietly.

She snorted. “You are not powerless. You’re just magicless. There’s a difference.”

“Lux Draven isn’t going to care about semantics.”

“Lux Draven isn’t going to care about a flower girl,” she shot back. “He probably won’t even see you. You’ll give the bouquet to some security lackey, they’ll grunt, you’ll get a signature, and you’ll go home to your book. Yes?”

The way she said it made it sound so simple.

My heart didn’t get the memo. It was still trying to beat its way out of my ribs.

“I can send someone else,” she added, “if you truly don’t want it. I’m not cruel. But the others already have routes tonight. It would mean cutting some deliveries. Losing that business.”

She didn’t guilt-trip often. When she did, it worked.

I looked down at the paper again.

Lux TOWER, PH 1.Lux DRAVEN.

I pictured the book on my nightstand. The soft lamplight. The quiet. The main character telling herself she was braver than she felt right up until she proved herself.

I wasn’t brave.

I was tired. And broke. And really, really good at doing what was in front of me so I didn’t have to think too hard about anything else.

“I’ll do it,” I heard myself say.

Mrs. Kori nodded like that was the only answer she’d expected.