“Of course.” I exhale once more, flicking ash from my coat. “But leave the ring on his finger. Let them find it. Let them know who he was. Then deal with his family.”
I step outside. The night smells of salt and oil, and I think of the girl who’s next on my list. The one who won’t expect me. The one who will test me.
And I smile.
Chapter 18
Aurelia
The manor is quiet, strangely so, considering it’s a Sunday. Even the guards’ footfalls are softened, swallowed by thick carpets and polished marble. Every creak echoes too loudly in my ears. I should be in bed, wrapped around Hank, letting him anchor me to something solid that doesn’t move or betray, not trying to sneak out of my bedroom in silk shorts and a white tank top that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. But I can’t resist. Not tonight. Not when my thoughts keep dragging me towards the west wing.
My hair tumbles loose over my shoulders, tangling in itself, carrying the faint tang of lavender shampoo. Maybe I should brush it? No. I want to feel this. Alive in a way I haven’t been in years.
I move quietly, fingertips brushing the smooth gold of the doorknob, but Leo is at the door. I expected that, but what I didn’t expect was finding him bruised and broken.
Shit, that’s my fault.
I try to be quiet enough that he wouldn’t hear me slip past him, but my bare feet hit a sensitive spot in the flooring, causing a soft whimper to echo.
“Where are you going?”
I turn and see him standing to face me now. “To get water,” I lie.
“Your ass is hanging out of those shorts.” His tone comes with an edge, almost jealousy.
I pull at my shorts a little. “Well, you’re welcome for the view then.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. And I’m sure he’s second-guessing if he should let me go.
“I’m sorry if I told you too much.” I gesture towards his face. “I should’ve known what Dante would do.”
He shakes his head. “This was Elijah, actually.”
Oh.
I look down, feeling worse. I thought this was because of our conversation in the hall a week ago, not the kiss.
“I’m sorry,” is all I can think to say.
“Alright, go, but be quick.”
I turn quick on my heels, not giving him a chance to change his mind.
Creeping through the upstairs hallways, trying to avoid the main foyer of the manor, shadows gather in the corners, swallowing the painted faces of my ancestors. Their eyes following me in oil and varnish, probably judging me for being stupid enough to open my heart again.
My heart thumps—not with fear, but anticipation, it’s desire. The thought of Elijah, of seeing him again, makes my pulse spike and my stomach tighten in that familiar way it does when I’m about to do something utterly reckless. I imagine the door opening, that smirk of his, the spark in his eyes when he catches me sneaking around. I imagine leaning against him, knees brushing, laughing softly about nothing while the rest of the world waits outside. Almost… almost possible again.
I pray he won’t turn me down, because I don’t just want his body, I want his heart.
The west wing is colder. The light dimmer, and more modern than I’m used to. The cool marble beneath my feet is so slick that my knees buckle and I almost hit the floor when I hear voices.
I grasp the wall to steady myself, but my skin erupts in goosebumps watching a group of men I don’t recognize crowding a door in a dark corner, only a few feet from me.
“Lowell’s gone. Clean. Shouldn’t take more than a day to relocate… but we have to move her.”
“In the morning. Get the van ready. No mistakes.”
“Yes, sir. Everything will be secure.”
