Alexander leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with interest.
“And how, pray tell, might we unearth this mysterious accomplice?”
I allowed a calculated pause, feigning deep contemplation while ensuring my next words carried enough weight to steer the conversation.
“By baiting a trap grand enough to draw them both from hiding,” I proposed, masking my revulsion beneath a facade of eagerness.“A masquerade.A lavish affair where none can resist the allure of obscurity.”
A flicker of something dangerous crossed Alexander’s face, his earlier grief momentarily forgotten, replaced by the glint of intrigue.
“Brilliant, Lord Hassan!”he exclaimed, the weight of his sorrow cast aside like a discarded cloak.
I stiffened at the title.It was not mine.It had never been mine.
“Please, call me Amir,” I corrected, my voice firm but controlled.That borrowed name was a shackle, an illusion I had forged—but I would not let it define me.
Alexander inclined his head, his lips curling slightly as he let my name roll over his tongue.“Very well, Amir.”
He savored it.It was as if, at that moment, he believed he had won some silent battle between us.
“We shall announce Elizabeth’s engagement at the soirée,” he added, his tone brimming with satisfaction.
Something twisted inside me.
The thought of her bound to another—to Winston—sent a slow, rumbling revulsion curling through my chest.But I buried it, forced my hands to remain still, my expression unreadable.
“Yes,” I murmured, my voice betraying nothing.“The Black Wraith would not pass up such an occasion.”
Across the room, Winston’s rheumy eyes gleamed with something repulsive—anticipation, desire, victory.
“We’ll extend invitations to every society,” he crooned, his lips parting in something akin to glee.
And in that moment, I saw it for what it was.
This was not just a game to them.
This was a hunt.
And I was standing in the center of the snare, waiting for the jaws to snap shut.
But they had made one fatal mistake.
They believed they were the predators.
They had yet to realize?—
So was I.
Alexander, ever the master of pretense, slid down from the edge of the desk with the ease of a man who believed himself untouchable.He crossed the short space between us, his heavy hand landing on my shoulder—meant to feel welcoming, but laced with possession.
“Amir, I am overjoyed that you’re here,” he declared, his voice thick with satisfaction.“I insist you stay as my guest.”
I resisted the urge to recoil.The idea of remaining within these walls, steeped in their machinations, was insufferable.
“Thank you, but no,” I declined smoothly, unwilling to let them draw me deeper into their world of cold stone and colder hearts.
Alexander’s smile did not falter, but I caught the flicker of something else beneath it—an irritation he was too controlled to voice.
“Then at least grace us with your company at dinner tomorrow,” he pressed, his determination as tireless as a wolf scenting fresh blood.“The betrothal announcement will be made.And then we will follow up with a grand announcement at the soiree.”
