Picking at my chipped nail varnish, I try to banish the words he whispered last night, their seductive tone still stroking myskin when I woke this morning amidst the aftermath of another orgasm.
Maybe I’m going insane.
Valdemar struts into the room, his guard looking like he’s the one being escorted in and not the other way around.
“Angel,” he says as he sits.
A tiny tapping sensation dances down my spine at the sound of the endearment falling from the same lips that have said it every night this week and asked me why I’m so wet and if I can take one more finger. The mouth that calls me angel, his and only his.
These dreams are fucking me over in more ways than one.
“Are you all right?” His husky voice stirs the memory of the dream, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stamp it out.
“Yes,” I lie.
“You don’t seem it. Are you still sleeping okay?” he asks.
I glare at him. “I think the state of my emotional well-being has more to do with the fact that I’ve spent an entire week wondering what you meant when you told me my brother asked you to shoot him.”
“Of course. I apologise. I shouldn’t have left you wondering, and I understand if you don’t trust me, but all I can say is that you will, in time.”
I want to flip him off and tell him I will never trust him, but instead I press on, ignoring his cryptic words.“We have fifty-four minutes, so please, don’t waste any of them.”
His eyes narrow as if he’s assessing me before deciding to speak. “You weren’t at the hearing.”
“No.”
“And I’m sure you’ve done your homework on what happened that night.” Valdemar presses his lips together, and I try not to focus on them, or the words that slipped out of his mouth in my dreams.
“That goes without saying,” I reply.
“Then I can tell you that what you’ve read is a pack of lies.”
I raise a brow. “Surely not everything.”
“All the statements from the authorities were doctored, falsified in favour of Adolphe Fortunato. You know as well as I do how much of the local police force he has on his payroll or you wouldn’t be the hotshot journalist I took you for.” The corner of his mouth quirks upwards.
“I’m aware of his sway,” I confirm.
Everyone knows that Adolphe Fortunato rules this city, his ruthless grip having only tightened over the past ten years. He has eyes and ears everywhere. There’s a rumour that he’s been sniffing around theGazette. Captain has remained tight-lipped, but you can’t keep the gossip mill from turning around a group of scoop-sniffing journalists who make their living from airing the dirty laundry. The thought of Fortunato buying theGazetteis one that truly gives me sleepless nights. If he were to own the largest newspaper in Amontillado, God knows what he would have us publishing, how he would use the paper for his gain.
“More than sway, angel. The guy is a serpent that has slithered its way into every mind in this city. He has the whole police force in his fucking pocket along with other high-ranking officials, and even the general public have their price—a cheap one when you consider how frightened everyone is of him. The witnesses who swore I pulled two guns out and shot down the chandeliers—fucking priceless, as that didn’t happen.” He laughs at this, shaking his head.
“Why would Fortunato pay them to lie about something like that? And if that didn’t happen, then how did they explain the lack of broken chandeliers at the scene? Surely not everyone involved with the investigation was on his payroll.” It’s my turn to shake my head.
“Fortunato can be very resourceful when he wants to be, and there are more ways than cash to get people to lie for him.”
I turn this over in my mind. There have been rumours of what Fortunato does to people who don’t do as he says. Terrible things. But I’ve always thought they were just that—rumours set about to frighten people into doing his bidding.
We’re veering further from the path I want to be on, and I don’t want to run out of time like last week and be left on a cliff edge again. “Okay, so what’s your version of events?”
“Before I tell you about that night, I need you to know how I found Ed.”
My silence is enough to get him to proceed.
“Ed joined us shortly after he started working at Fortunato Casino. I was at the casino the night he was shadowing one of the croupiers, learning on the job. At the time, I didn’t know who I was looking for or what exactly Ed’s gift was. I just knew someone would be there and I’d know when I saw them.” His voice takes on a slightly mystic tone, adding to the seductiveness I’ve got so used to hearing in my dreams.
“The first I noticed something was amiss was when a scrawny guy started pushing Ed at the roulette table. Afterwards, when we’d got Ed out of the casino and into one of our cars, he told me he’d seen what was about to happen through a vision, saw the scrawny guy lose his winnings and pull the knife out to slash the croupier’s forearm. He saw it all, just like he’d been seeing things his entire life, and it frightened him—the knife, the violence, the blood. So, he’d tried to stop his vision from happening and asked the scrawny guy to leave, but Ed was eighteen, a trainee member of staff. The scrawny guy lost it, got all up in his face, asked him who the hell he thought he was, and then started shoving him. I stepped in when the scrawny guy pulled the knife.”
