I lean forward, annoyed with merely the mention of her name—that’s how I know I can’t marry her, not even if it were a farce. There’s no way I could fake it with her. I need someone that I wouldn’t mind being around, someone I could learn to trust, and someone who has something to lose, and that person is the beauty sitting right in front of me.
“Allison can’t be my wife.”
Fabiola rolls her shoulders, chewing the inside of her cheek as she studies the canvas. “I can’t help you there.”
“But you can, I know you all have secrets.”
She looks up then, a smirk playing on her lips. “And what’s in it for me, Safra?”
“Freedom, as I said before, our marriage will only be on paper.”
Fabiola's lips stretch wider until a deep throaty chuckle escapes past her lips. “Freedom?”
I nod, to which she shakes her head with disapproval and snorts. “You’re delusional to think any of us have any freedom.”
“I guess so, but it’s the best shot at it. Or can you think of something better?” She tilts her head, finally setting the charcoal down and looking directly into my eyes. “What exactly do you want?”
“To burn it all. I just need a wife I can trust to sell the white picket fence dream.”
She laughs at that. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know you enough to know you prefer being with a woman,” I add quickly. It's already creepy that I know so much about Fabiola, but after the night at the ball, I needed to gather as much information as I could about my future bride. So here we are. I’m placing all my cards on the table, praying it doesn’t bite me in the ass. This place is crawling with people who hate Velarium, who know the truth, but are too powerless to stop it. And maybe I am in over my head, but the least I can do is try.
“I also know that I’m the best shot you've got for living that lifestyle you crave. Can you imagine which of the elites your family will sell you to?”
She flinches at that; each of my words lands exactly how I intended them, causing her to narrow her eyes. “What about Allison?”
“Expose her, I know she’s fucking Ezra’s dad.”
Fabiola's eyes go wide at my admission. I’ve known for a while. I simply didn’t care, still don’t actually. Again, secrets are currency within this place, and I’m ready to spend. She leans back, arms crossed over her crisp uniform shirt.
“You want to expose her? Wouldn’t this strain your relationship with your best friend?”
I nod. “I know, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the greater good.”
“And this is?”
I nod again.
Her lips twitch. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly, I just need you.”
Fabiola inhales deeply through her nose, and her gaze moves towards the large windows in the room. “How?”
“That part you leave to me. I just need you to get me the inside scoop.”
Her gaze snaps towards me as she shakes her head. “No, no way.”
I let out a sigh. I’m so tired of playing by the rules. Tired of pretending this place doesn’t destroy everything it touches, pretending like I’m not my father’s son. “You either expose her. Or yourself?”
She slams her palms into the desk, her brown eyes shooting daggers at me. “Fuck you, I won’t let you blackmail me.”
My response is a lazy shrug. “Like I told you that night, your secret is safe with me as long as you do as I say.”
I know I’m being hypocritical, but I need her. Fabiola’s jaw clenches, knuckles growing white from the strain. I can see the war behind her eyes, the calculation and the fury. Yet, she doesn’t look away, because she knows I’m right.
Fabiola doesn’t speak right away; instead, she lets the silence stretch between us. Until it becomes unbearable. Her eyes flick between the canvas and me. I can practically see the puzzle come together in her mind. She’s calculating, weighing her pride against survival. Then, finally, she exhales.
