Grayson laughed bitterly. “Of course you do.”
After a bit of back-and-forth on what else was expected and what needed to be done in order to kill Gemma Crowne, Grayson left. But before he did, he dragged me into a deep, brotherly hug. The type of sibling affection we’d heretofore never exchanged.
“So what now?” I asked when Grayson was gone, turning to Grim.
Grim grinned. “You finally get your wish, Rich Girl.”
FIFTY-SIX
GEMMA
One Week Before
Grim and I returned to the Wharf. He held my hand, taking me upstairs, and to his room. He put me into bed, and I protested about his arm again, but he just lifted the sheets to my chin.
“Sleep,” he commanded.
So I did. When I woke, the sun was setting again. I rubbed my forehead, limbs heavy with sleep. I’d slept through an entire day. Was I already dead?
“You’re late.”
I turned at the voice, finding Lock leaning against the doorjamb. He wore a black three-piece suit with a silver chain hanging from lapel to pocket.
“Not this game again,” I said, sitting up in bed. The last time Lock had appeared in this room saying something cryptic, I’d ended up in the real Underworld. “What am I late for?”
He grinned, his teeth white and sharp, the piercing in his lip glinting in the dying sun.
“You’ll find what you need in the closet.” He nodded in the direction, then shut the door.
I stared at the door for a minute.Wedding?
I pushed the silky black sheets from my body, feet hitting cold hardwood. Inside the closet hung the most gorgeous, black lace dress, backlit by pale, white gold light.
I slid my touch across the fabric. I was no stranger to expensive dresses, had worn everything from vintage Chanel to Iris van Herpen, so it wasn’t its perceived value that had my heart pounding. Those dresses weren’t made for me, they’d been draped on me like I was an expensive mannequin.
This dress clung to me like a secret. Black as the ocean the first time Grim took me, it bared my collarbones and shoulders in a soft, deliberate drape. The fabric pooled low across my chest as if gravity itself were complicit. Lace traced my body in sheer, suggestive panels. Lightweight chiffon fell dark and weightless, and a sharp slit opened on the side from ankle to thigh.
I swayed back and forth in the mirror, watching the fabric ripple in the air. I’d never worn a dress like this, one that reflected my soul. This wasn’t just a dress, it was what Persephone would have worn when she reigned in the underworld, what Psyche did wear to her wedding.
Once again, I was shaken by just how much Grim knew me.
The necklace Grim had given me glinted smoky red between my collarbones, the only color on my body. With a deep inhale, I headed downstairs.
Lock and Raze were waiting for me. Raze was dressedsimilarly to Lock, in a dark black suit, but his tie was textured, like velvet and lace.
“All right…” I said, hitting the floor. “What now?”
They exchanged a look, then wordlessly held out their arms. Nonplussed, I encircled my arms in theirs. They led me out the back of the house, across the abandoned pier, and onto the beach.
The sand was silvery under the moonlight. The midnight blue sky was painfully clear, stars sharp and overbright with winter. Rows of tea lights glimmered, casting a flickering orange glow against the sand. The lights were arranged parallel, leading from where I stood down to…Grim.
Where the tide met the earth, Grim stood, water splashing at the hem of his black pants. He wore a black dress shirt, unbuttoned and folded up to his forearms. Grim was already looking at me, smiling, before I’d realized he was there.
“What is this?” I asked, too nervous to say aloud my hope.
They didn’t answer.
I swallowed, because I already knew. This was an aisle for a wedding. That was what the tea lights were for. I tried to imagine four scary, reckless criminals spending time lighting hundreds of candles. It did not compute.
