“My God, what an exquisite knife,” Roman said, his voice carrying just enough intrigue to sound convincing.
Costa smirked, twisting the weapon between his hands. “Isn’t it? I found it in my office. Imagine my surprise—someone trespassed without my consent.”
He turned the blade over, his tone deceptively casual.
“More concerning,” he continued, “I also found several of my men with their throats slit. Who would do such a thing at a gala like mine?”
His tongue flicked over his incisor, a calculated movement. Then, he asked—almost offhandedly— “Have you heard of the Timebornes? The Timebounds?”
His expression was unreadable.
Roman barely hesitated. “We might have heard of them in our travels.” He turned to me. “Olivia, do those names ring any bells?”
I frowned, feigning thought. “Not that I recall.”
Before Costa could press, Montego let out a long-suffering sigh and waved a hand. “I’m afraid our friend here is obsessed with the Timebornes and Timebounds.”
Costa’s nostrils flared. “They deserve to be purged from the planet.”
A shudder ran through me at the venom in his voice.
“What did they do to you?” I asked, my voice neutral.
His sneer was razor-sharp. “They exist. That’s all the motivation I need.”
Without breaking eye contact, he slid my dagger back into his sheath. “Imagine my delight when I discovered a Timebound at my masquerade. Can you believe that? What kind of imbecile would walk into a den of Timehunters?”
“One who didn’t know your rules,” Roman surmised.
Costa ignored him, turning his attention to Montego. “You must join us, Montego. We could use a man of your stature.”
Montego let out a laugh, waving the suggestion off. “Come, come. I’m an old man—nearly seventy-two.”
Costa’s grin widened. “And yet, you handled those females so well. The sounds alone told me everything. The moans, the cries—my God, Montego, you can still give a mind-blowing orgasm at your age. No doubt they’d be talking about you if they were still alive.”
Costa clapped Montego on the back, his words dripping with dark amusement.
Montego sighed heavily, shaking his head. “It’s a shame they were lost in the fire.” He met Costa’s gaze, his expression carefully blank. “Nevertheless, thank you for the offer, Count Costa. We’ve had this discussion many times, and my answer remains the same—I must decline.”
“Pity,” Costa said, snapping the lid of the wooden chest shut and locking it. A sly glint flickered in his eyes.
His gaze slid to Roman. “Would you like to go hunting with me?”
Roman hesitated, just for a fraction of a second.
“No, thank you. I’m afraid we must be on our way.” He extended his hand. “Your party was magnificent. I’m deeply sorry it ended in tragedy. We’ll never forget our time here.”
Costa clasped his hand, his grip firm, his cold stare slithering over Roman like a predator sizing up its prey. Then, his gaze settled on me. A creeping chill ran down my spine.
He didn’t buy our story.
Riding back to Malik’s in Montego’s coach, the count stretched out comfortably. “How wonderful that you got your necklace back. It looks like a fine piece.”
I tightened my grip around the jewels. “I’m so relieved.”
Montego shook his head. “Costa is strange about that order of his. All this nonsense about Timebornes and Timebounds. Utter folly, if you ask me.”
“Indeed,” Roman murmured, staring out the window at the endless stretch of night. He absently pulled my hand into his lap, his fingers tracing my knuckles.
