He’s throwing a party I’d already agreed to weeks ago. A back-to-school mixer I wouldn’t usually be tempted to attend. The perfect place to lose myself in a sea of people whom I don’t know and don’t care about. A place where I could drink champagne, pretend I wasnormal, and pretend none of this mattered.
But today I'm going there for another reason.
There are things Hayden won’t tell me, things I’m not supposed to know. About my family. AboutwhyI was supposed to belong to Archibald in the first place. Aboutwhythat deal had been made and why it had been broken. I only have to convince Archie to tell me. I have to hope that our history means more to him than some sworn promises to the Brotherhood.
I arrive at the estate, slipping into the party like I never left. And in a way, I didn’t. These people, these families, they were my world. Still are, in some ways.
But I’ve been gone and removed from it for a week. Taken out of circulation the moment Hayden decided I was his.
I move through the crowd, champagne in hand, my dress tight against my skin. I chose a long, cream Calvin Klein gown that fits like it was made for me.
Because it was.
The whole wardrobe had been stocked before I arrived. Every piece in my size, every label I love, like someone had studied my closet back at Eulogia down to the hangers. And while some pieces are vintage, they somehow still fit like a glove. I even found a fur coat with the initials HH on the inside. Possibly his mother's?
It’s creepy, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t also a little thrilling.
I let myself smile, let myself appear at ease. But my focus was already set.
Archie isn’t hard to find. He holds court like he was born to it, laid back, legs spread, a line of coke on the table in front of him, half-finished drink in one hand.
He’s the kind of man who’s always in control, even when he’s three vices deep. Eyes sharp, expression unreadable.
And when his gaze meets mine, something flickers there.
Not amusement. Not curiosity.
Concern.
"Martine," he says smoothly as he sits forward. There’s an edge behind how he says my name. "Why are you here?"
"Oh, look who finally cares," I say, stepping closer.
He exhales through his nose, gaze darting around as if looking for someone, Hayden, probably. He takes a sip of his drink, then says, "I’ve always cared, Martine. You know that."
“Like how you cared when I dropped off the face of the earth without so much as a peep?”
He doesn’t fall for my jab; he only stands swiftly and grabs me by the crook of my arm, guiding me towards a bar set up in the corner of the room.
“Taking me for a drink, Archie?” I say snidely, not enjoying his sudden attitude.
“You know this isn’t the place, Martine. Where’s Hayden?”
I furrow my brow, ignoring the question about my keeper. How does he know who I’m with? I didn’t see him at the estate the evening everyone was killed.
"Then, where is a good place, exactly? I’m certain you’ll have the answer to some of my questions."
His jaw tightens. "Martine—"
"Don’t ‘Martine’ me," I cut him off. "Just tell me the truth. Or are you too much of a coward?"
His eyes darken, but it isn’t anger. It’s pity. "You don’t understand what you’re asking."
"Then help me understand."
His gaze flicks to the side, and I see the hesitation in his stance. That’s enough to set me off. "You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?"
Archie’s lips press into a thin line. "You think this is about Hayden?"
