“No,” I said. “But I’m going anyway.”
“Good answer,” he said. “Move.”
The dining room looked different in person than it did on the camera feeds… warmer, louder, and more alive. Candles threw soft light over polished wood and crystal, catching the dark green of the walls and the glint of silver. The long table was set like a painting of comfort layered over something feral.
The other eight men took their places, masks on, numbers already fixed in my head by build and posture, as well as the numbered pins on their lapels.
I sat where Henry had marked for me on the left side, third seat down, beside the chair that would be pulled out for Chrissy when she arrived.
My scar itched under the edge of the mask. I let it.
Staff moved like ghosts, finishing last-minute details. A bottle of wine set here, a napkin folded there. Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed the half hour.
The doors at the far end of the room opened at 7:30 on the dot.
Henry stepped to the head of the table, looking every bit the Master of Ceremonies he’d promised he’d be. The man was the epitome of calm. His presentation was immaculate and his nerves were unshakeable.
He met my eyes for a fraction of a second.
Don’t fuck this up, that look said.
I breathed in, out, and waited for the maid to bring my girl to the table.
Chapter
Ten
CHRISSY
December 11 — 7:22 PM
The knock came justas I finished talking myself out of leaving, regardless of what Mr. Stonewood decided.
Three sharp raps sounded on the door, polite but precise.
“Miss Jones?” A feminine voice called out, and a key scraped in the lock, un-locking my door with a faint click.
I flinched, even though the knock meant I was being allowed to stay for dinner, at the very least.
My reflection in the mirror looked like someone else. The green dress was smoothed down over my hips, hair brushed out and twisted back from my face, lip gloss washed off and replaced with a subtle nude pink lipstick after the forbidden kiss I’d shared with a man I barely knew.
Not only that, but a man I wasn’t supposed to touch… a man I’d asked to kiss me like it was the last night of my life, or at least life as I knew it.
I swallowed and opened the door.
“Yes?”
The maid from earlier stood there, her dark eyes carefully blank, hands folded around a small leather folder pressed to her apron.
“Mr. Stonewood has reviewed the footage from your arrival,” she said. “He has decided to allow you to attend dinner this evening. However, I must inform you that you are on probation.”
Probation?
The word sluiced through my veins like ice.
“I must also offer you a warning, I’m afraid. One more misstep,” she continued, “and you will be escorted off the property immediately. Do you understand?”
I curled my fingers into my palms behind my back, nails digging into skin.
