I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Of all the fucking times for this guy to show up, tonight would be the night.”
“I didn’t know!” she shouted at me.
Releasing my fingers, I glared at her. “Tell me.”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” she snapped. “I can’t keep up with your mind tonight.”
“Pity,” I said. “It’s real colorful.”
“Oh, I bet!”
“What does he do?”
That question stopped her for a moment.
“What does he do?” she repeated. “He ran the family vineyard. Now it seems he’s an artist.”
“All right.” I nodded. “No lethal German killer. That’s a start.”
“Smart ass,” she spat the words at me.
“I can never be too sure. You attract a certain breed of men. This one is an artist—tell me how he became one.”
She stuck her chin up, but her fists stayed balled, locked on the dress. “I told him to follow his dreams! To do what made him happy. Life is short. What’s the use in having regrets?”
“Good advice. Wonderful, in fact.” The sarcasm in my voice came out thick. “But what I don’t understand is how Brigitte is a French dancer with a French accent, and her brother is German with a German accent.”
“You think I’m lying?” her voice trembled.
“Prove me otherwise.” I shrugged.
“How about I get you another whiskey first.”
I ducked just in time to avoid a whizzing goblet from smashing into my head. She had snatched it from a dresser, left from the last visitors to the red room. Red wine infiltrated the air and touched my neck when the glass exploded against the wall.
I couldn’t see her entire face underneath the mask, but her lips were tight and her eyes almost crazed. Her hands too. When I got close to her, she became feral, ready to sink her claws in.
Once her wrists were secured against the wall, she turned her face from me, refusing to meet my eye.
“Look at me!” I ordered.
We were both breathing heavy, our chests rising and falling. Her heart seemed to pound close to her skin, close enough to see it.
“Tell me why, Scarlett. If you don’t—”
“What?” She turned her face toward mine, finally meeting my eye. “You’ll—”
“Yeah,” I almost growled. “I will.”
She laughed, a bitter sound. “It’s so easy for you now, isn’t it?”
“It’s always been easy for me. You make it difficult.”
“I’m not your conscience, Brando.”
“Call it what you will, but you’re all that stands between lawlessness and order. Tell me.”
“They’re not full siblings! All right? They have different fathers. Brigitte is French. Rainer’s father is German. Satisfied?”
