“Who keeps you then?” he asks with a flourish of his hand. “I know your kind like to keep their females like property, am I wrong?”
I bristle, wanting to argue, but as much as it incenses me to admit, heisn’twrong. “I live with my father,” I say through my teeth.
He looks encouraged by my answer, eyes brightening. “Father, yes. What’s his name?”
I open my mouth to speak but can’t bring myself to answer. Even though Father and I don’t get along, I hate to think sharing his name could condemn him to harm. “Why? What in the name of the saints is this all about?”
He leans down, clasping a hand around one of the arms of my chair, bringing us eye to eye. I lean back as far as I can, holding my breath. “I’m asking the questions here,” he says. “Now tell me his name. And don’t you dare lie. If we find out you’re lying about any of these answers, we’ll bite off a finger for each false word said.”
“Fine,” I say, the word coming out at a higher pitch than I intend. “It’s…it’s Richard Bellefleur.”
He straightens and snaps his fingers, then points to the fae at the bureau. His next words ring out strong and firm. “Richard Bellefleur.”
The fae puts pen to paper and scrawls something down, then looks back at the alpha.
The alpha speaks again in that same resonant tone. “I have your daughter—” He turns back to me and lowers his voice. “Name, human. What is your name?”
My lips move before I manage to find my voice. “Gemma Bellefleur.”
He adopts that tone again, one I can only describe as hisvillain voice. It’s a nearly perfect imitation of the one I imagine the antagonists using in my favorite novels. “I have your daughter, Gemma Bellefleur. She is safe and unharmed. For now.” He lowers his tone, flourishing a hand at his scribe. “Emphasize thefor now, part, will you?”
The fae nods and continues writing.
“If you want her back, I will accept…” He pauses, lips pursed as he squints. Rubbing his bearded jaw with one hand, he looks down at me with an arched brow. “What is your father’s wealth?”
“His wealth?” I echo.
He gives an exaggerated nod, his features laced with exasperation. “His annual salary, human.”
Annual salary.I narrow my eyes, calculating the sum of all this nonsense in my mind. “Are you…holding me for ransom?”
He furrows his brow. “Is that what it’s called?”
“Ransom, yes,” the female fae says, revealing a few sharp, crooked teeth. “I do believe that’s what it’s called.”
With this knowledge comes a steadying calm in the midst of my fear. It doesn’t take my terror away completely, but at least it gives me an edge. Ransom, I can work with. It’s all numbers and figures, things I know well. Taking a deep breath, I attempt to settle beneath my false persona. Having my hands tied behind my back makes that a little difficult, considering I can’t sit tall the way I normally do when feigning confidence, but at least I can school my features, ease my breathing, steady my voice.
“I hate to tell you this, but we have no money,” I say. “We’re poor. We can’t afford a ransom. You should let me go.”
He barks a laugh. “That’s a lie. Just look at that hideous dress of yours.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, but I swallow my indignation and don a mask of embarrassment instead. “It’s the nicest one I have. I…only wore it because I had an interview today. A job interview. When you found me, I was on my way to thirty-three Whitespruce—” My words dry on my lips as another calculation plays out in my mind. Damn. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. When I open them, I burn the alpha with my gaze. “Let me guess. Thisisthirty-three Whitespruce Lane, isn’t it?”
The burly fae smirks with pride but gives no reply.
“You tricked me to come here, didn’t you?”
“I like the termenticed,” he says.
My blood boils with rage, chest heaving, but I force my words to come out calm. “I thought fae couldn’t lie.” I’m testing the waters here.Canfae lie? Are the legends correct in that regard?
“I told no lie.”
The female fae nods, as if to confirm the validity of his statement.
I lift a brow. “You wrote a want ad seeking a house steward.”
The alpha shrugs. “I don’t have a house steward, so technically you could say I’m in want of one. Fae may not lie, but we excel at deception. Now, enough chit-chat. Tell me your father’s wealth.”
