Wincing, he turned his back to her to look out the window. He struggled to find the strength to deny the accusation. “He’ll see that I’ve gone to considerable lengths to keep you alive now.”
Silence stretched between them for a long minute, as a question burned through him like acid. “Do you trust me, Nadi?”
Her long pause before she answered was more of an answer than her response. “I’m not sure.”
“Trust is a luxury neither of us can afford. Certainly something we haven’t been able to enjoy in the past. But perhaps we can manage something adjacent to it. A mutual understanding.”
“Based on what?”
“On the fact that we’ve both had opportunities to destroy each other and chosen not to take them.” He moved to the sideboard, pouring himself a fresh glass of bloodwine. “On the fact that, despite everything, we keep choosing each other over alternatives that would objectively benefit us more.”
She was studying him, half curious, half dubious. “That’s not trust. That’s…mutual insanity.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Is there a difference in our case?”
“Fair point.” She almost smiled back. “So, what now? We continue our charade? Let your siblings believe they’re turning me against you?”
“Yes.” He sipped his drink, the rich flavor of blood barely registering. It was a distraction. And a poor substitute for whathe really wanted—hers. “We use their arrogance against them. Let them think they’ve found your price, that you’re malleable, falling under their influence.”
“While we plan their deaths.”
“Precisely. Starting with Mael at the wedding.”
Nadi nodded, her expression turning thoughtful. “Mael mentioned the ledger from Braen’s club. I can use it as bait.”
“It shouldn’t matter to him. We need to find out why he needs it.”
“There are only three reasons I can think of. Either he was involved, he plans to blackmail someone who was, or he plans to use it as a bargaining chip.”
“Or some combination of the three.” Raziel’s mind raced with the implications. Her quick assessment of the situation was correct, butwhichof the options remained the question. “The ledger could be valuable leverage against more than just the Rosovs. If certain names appear in those records…”
“It could topple more than one powerful family,” Nadi agreed. “Where is it?”
Raziel hesitated. This was the moment—to trust or not to trust. The ledger was one of the few pieces of concrete evidence they had, a potential weapon against multiple enemies. Sharing its location would be a significant risk.
“It’s in a safe deposit box at the Mercantile Exchange Bank,” he said finally. “Box number 227. Ivan has the key, but the security override code is 57-82-97. Even without the key, that will get you in.”
The look of surprise on her face was genuine. “You’re actually telling me?”
“If I were to die, you would need access to it.” He finished his wine, setting the glass aside. “Consider it…a long overdue wedding gift.”
She studied him, as if trying to decode some hidden meaning in his words. “Thismutual understandingwe’re building really is insanity. I don’t know if I like it.”
“Imagine how I feel.” He chuckled.
Silence settled between them, not uncomfortable but charged, all the same. He found himself watching the subtle changes in her expression, the way the moonlight played across her features. She was beautiful in a way that defied conventional understanding—alien and familiar all at once. Somehowunreal.He was surrounded by beauty every moment of his life. He had never had a shortage of it. Human or vampiric, it had always been within his reach. Whatever he had wanted, he could have it. But her? Something about her was ethereal. Like a ghost, stepping between rooms in the middle of the night.
Something he could nottake.Something he might not ever truly have. Something that perhaps only ever visited him for a fleeting moment.
“I should rest,” she said finally, turning toward the door. “Tomorrow will be another performance.”
“Nadi.” He couldn’t help himself. Her name on his lips stopped her, and she glanced back at him. He shouldn’t. But he did, anyway. “Stay.”
Her pause was almost imperceptible. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Absolutely not,” he conceded. “But I find I’m developing a taste for bad ideas lately.”
A small smile touched her lips. Lips he hungered for. “Is that what I am? A bad idea?”
