She swallowed in fear. She didn’t know that she liked this new Harrington any better than the old one. She couldn’t figure out his ploy, and that made it scarier, but nonetheless, she tilted back the champagne.
The bubbles exploded in her mouth and down her throat. It was crisp and dry and the most delicious champagne she had ever had in her life. Something about it popped, and it had the perfect bite.
“You like it,” he said with another candid smile.
“Yes,” she said carefully.
“Good.” He brought his own flute to his lips and took a long swallow. “Ah, as good as I remember.”
Reyna knew that vampires could technically eat food, but they didn’t do it often. They drank, too, but she had never been forward enough to ask if alcohol tasted the same. If anything tasted as good as blood. She wasn’t about to ask now.
“You are probably wondering why you’re here.” He poured himself another glass of champagne and then set the bottle back in the ice. “Come closer.”
She moved an inch. He touched a small control panel she hadn’t even noticed, and once again the wall turned transparent, as it had outside B’s cell, to reveal an enormous ballroom filled to the brim with people.
Without meaning to, she moved forward and put her hand on the glass. “What…?”
“Another one-way mirror, and a soundproof room. No one can see or hear us. They will never know that you’re spying on them.”
She deflated. “Then why am I here? What is all of this?” She gestured around the room—the buffet, the candlelight, the champagne, the dress, the heels. “You want to show me the ball, but I can’t be part of it?”
“I realized,” he said, leaning casually back against the window, “that I showed you only one side of the coin.”
“What coin?”
“Your life does not have to be like B’s, Reyna. Your life could be just like this.”
“I’m still trapped.”
“Either you can be trapped,” he told her, “or you canchooseto be here, living this life. It’s a choice. I thought you’d like to know that you could choose this.”
She stared at him, trying to mask the disbelief she felt. He thought that shoving her into a pretty dress and feeding her fancy food would make her realize that she should be grateful to him for kidnapping her?
“Is it really so different than your life with Beckham?”
Reyna recoiled. Harrington didn’t mention Beckham anymore. After a week or two of questions, he had presumably given up on getting any information out of her about him. Since Harrington never brought Beckham up again, she’d figured that was that.
“Did he not feed you and clothe you and offer you everything your heart desired?”
“He also paid me and allowed me out of his house,” she ground out.
“I could pay you,” he said dismissively. “And you are, of sorts, out of the house.”
“Alone and unsupervised.”
Harrington barked out a short laugh. “Do not think for a moment that Beckham Anderson allowed you out alone or unsupervised any more than I have.”
Reyna ground her teeth together. It was kind of true. Had she ever really been alone?
“I have known him much longer than you have. Believe me when I say that the man you think you knew does not exist. There is no one more ruthless than he. No one more willing to tear the world apart with his bare hands to get ahead. He treated you like a well-maintained pet. What freedom he allowed you to believe you had was nothing more than an illusion. At least I am not playing games.”
No games. That was laughable. Every word out of his mouth was a game. She wouldn’t listen to his babble about Beckham. Harrington might’ve known him longer, but she knew him better. She knew him to his core. She may have doubted Beckham in the darkest corners of her mind, but still she knew how he felt about her. Harrington’s words only solidified her resolve.
“Think on it. You could be a guest. Things could be better for you here than they are currently,” Harrington said. “Enjoy the view of the guests.”
“What’s the party for?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“We have a new mayor.”
