Iblinked.
“I don’t care if it makes you uncomfortable. Right now, I don’t care much about you, and you only have”—he checked a shiny, octagonal-faced watch that looked more expensive than the oil portrait of a frisky bay horse hung between two sets of curtained French doors—“three minutes left to make me care, so you better start explaining what it is you want me to do foryou.”
I wound the ribbon so snugly around my fingertip I cut off my own circulation. I let go, let it unravel. “I’m here because I’d like to understand what it is youdo.”
The slight jerk of his head told me he wasn’t expecting that answer. “Understand what I do?” he all but choked out before his eyes became mere slits. “Who do you work for? TheDGSI?”
“The DGSI? I’m not sure whatthat—”
Jarod swung around in his chair to look at Tristan who was pouring himself a glass of some transparent spirit. “Where did you pick this girlup?”
“On yourdoorstep.”
Jarod wheeled back around and glared at me with a fierceness that made my vertebrae lock up. “What the fuck were you doing on mydoorstep?”
I nibbled on my bottom lip, wondering how to phrase my intentions. “I came to helpyou.”
“Ah. Help me.” His expression eased back into contemptuousamusement.
I tried to square my shoulders, but my dress was so stiff I could hardlymove.
“Let me guess. Your project is salvaging mysoul.”
My lips pulledapart.
Did he know what I was? I peeked over my shoulder to make sure my wings hadn’t made an impromptu appearance. What was I doing? Humans couldn’t see them even if our feathers were shoved in theirnoses.
“I’m not interested in what you’re peddling. I’m perfectly content with the life I lead.” He rose and strode back across the room. “Tristan, take the little zealot out of my house and make sure to inform my staff never to let her cross the threshold ofLa Cour desDémons.”
I blinked. “But—”
“Getout.”
Heat shot into my face. I got up and trounced over to him. “You are everything they said you were, Jarod Adler.” My voice trembled. I hated how it trembled. “I just came here to helpyou.”
“Liar.” He took a step closer, looming over me like the monster in the children’s stories Ophan Pippa used to tell us when we still lived in the nursery. Monsters made of sin and flesh. “You came here to helpyourself.”
I sucked in a breath. “I’m not a liar, but you’re right. I did come here to helpmyself.”
His eyebrows shot up behind his mask. “You’re admitting toit?”
“I told you, I don’tlie.”
“Everyonelies.”
“Not me.” I held his hard stare, then plodded out into the silent marblefoyer.
“How does helping me help you?” hesaid.
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “I can’t tellyou.”
“Whynot?”
“Because you wouldn’t understand myreasons.”
“Tryme.”
I shook my head, sealing my lipsshut.
