“Not in this. This has always beenmyproblem.”
His gaze moved down her dress, and he wore a look somewhere between longing and pain. She leaned in to him, and her hand found its way into his. Her head felt dizzy from the flashing lights and nearness of him, but even as her heart urged her to move closer, her mind compelled her to resist. The expression on Levi’s face scared her. Not because of the desire in his eyes—the desire she shared, as well—but the desperation. As his free hand moved around her waist, his other pinning hers to the wall, Enne realized he really believed that this was his last night, his last chance. This wasn’t simply attraction. This was him attempting to leave this world without regret.
He bent low until his forehead pressed against hers, and the space between them felt negative and infinite all at once. Her heart stirred, begging her to surrender.
“Promise me,” he whispered. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”
She couldn’t promise that. Vianca had given her orders, and Enne intended to see them through. There would be more nights spent with Levi Glaisyer. This wasn’t their last chance.
We won’t die tonight, she swore silently instead.
“Promise me,” he repeated, and she felt his breath against her lips.
She squeezed his hand. “You asked me to trust you once. Now I’m asking you to trust me.”
His expression faltered. “I won’t let you—”
“Please.”
Breathless, she slid out of his grasp and disappeared into the crowd before he could catch her, praying she hadn’t made a heartbreaking mistake.
Enne followed the pull of the omerta toward the bar, where it whispered to her that she would find her mark. Her hands were clammy with sweat, her chest tight with fear. She would have to face Sedric Torren again. Him and the terrible, nauseating way he looked at her.
After a few moments, she stopped to glance back at Levi for a last push of courage.
He was gone.
“No,” she whispered. She shoved her way back to the alcove, but Levi was nowhere to be found. Maybe he’d left, just as she’d pleaded. Enne should’ve felt relieved, but bullets of worry buried themselves in her chest. This was not the night to make assumptions.
Had they found him already? Had they killed him?
She had no time to search. The omerta was steering her toward the bar, and the clock was ticking. Whether or not Levi was safe, she would find out from Sedric Torren, and she would finish what she’d come here to do.
The room was dark and hazy with smoke. A single figure sat at the bar, one with broad shoulders and slicked-back hair.
Sedric Torren caught her eye and gave her an inviting smile.
All at once, she was back in the St. Morse theater. Sedric’s hand had found its way to her thigh, and her mind had found its way somewhere else as she waited for the poison to work, waited for the night to end. Sedric’s mind, too, had seemed somewhere else. Fabricating reasons to lure her away, imagining the things he would do in the dark, the way he’d tell her she’d wanted this, the secrets and shame he’d convince her to keep.
She’d seen it all in his eyes then, and the same look was there now.
Enne reminded herself how far she’d come since that night. She was not Vianca’s doll. She’d walked into the Deadman District and emerged a lord. She carried poison in one pocket and a gun in the other.
She was a blade disguised as a girl.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she slid onto the stool beside him.
“’Lo, Sedric,” she said.
He inspected her dark lipstick and slip of a dress. His eyes traced over her face, her chest, the rest of her body. She could see the calculations in his head, trying to guess how old she truly was and whether he would still have her, anyway.
“Emma Salta,” he said, all smiles and snares. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. You spend an awful lot of time in casinos for such a young lady.”
It was so easy to slip back into that role. It felt like retreating to a different part of herself, a place where she didn’t need to think, didn’t need to feel.
“You don’t look happy to see me,” she said, feigning offense.
“You look awfully different.”
