Levi swallowed past his fullness. “It’s...very good. It’s all good. But I don’t know why you’re asking me—I don’t know anything about fine food.” He couldn’t tell the difference between a half-and ten-volt bottle of bourbon, and he considered that a good thing. He wasn’t hard to please. “And you didn’t invite us over just to sample overpriced hors d’oeuvres.”
Vianca never made such grand gestures unless she wanted something. It was her way of pretending they were more than her prisoners. But no matter how many delicacies she offered them, whatever she wanted, she could—and would—simply take.
She pouted. “I thought we could enjoy each other’s company for a while.”
“We were called here without warning. We’re both missing appointments, I’m sure.” Levi had nothing on his agenda that evening other than to discuss Fitz Oliver’s offer with Tock, but he could think of a thousand places he’d rather be than Vianca’s dining room.
“So impatient,” Vianca chided. “I’ve left you both much to your own independence these past few weeks, though I initially hoped you’d be more like partners. I admit to missing that little idea.”
She cleared the empty plates in front of them and began setting out new, larger ones. Levi’s stomach gave a painful clench.
“Do you think Levi would make a good business partner, Enne?” Vianca asked. “He can be so self-centered.” Levi gripped his fork so hard his knuckles whitened. “And touchy,” Vianca added.
“He’d be adequate,” Enne answered steadily.
Levi thought he deserved more than that. Maybe not a month ago, when everything had fallen apart between them, but they’d moved past that. He didn’t want Vianca’s unnerving fantasies to cause a rift between them all over again—or worse, to kindle fantasies of his own.
But then Enne’s foot found his under the table. It wasn’t a kick, but a brief touch, probably meant to reassure him. It did, but it also made him dizzy.
Three more months, he told himself. Three more months until the election, until Harrison killed Vianca, until Levi’s promise to Jac finally expired. But amid all his hope and gratitude for Jac’s work lurked a seed of resentment. The promise was meant to last until the end of Jac’s assignment, but Jac had seen to it that his assignment would never end.
Levi quickly jerked his foot away. He was trying to be a better person than the one who’d stolen from the Irons and killed Chez. But he was starting to doubt that goodness was in his nature, if the right thing felt like a battle and the wrong thing felt like surrender.
“And what about you?” Vianca asked him. “Enne would probably be a hard partner to work with. She takes everything so personally. No separation between business and pleasure.” While Vianca piled roast pork on Enne’s plate, Levi tried not to let his thoughts trip over her last word. “You should see her at the salons we attend. Always dancing, drinking, eating. It’s a wonder she’s not spilling her secrets into the ear of any of the young men who ask her to waltz.”
Enne cast the donna a scathing look. After all, her efforts were entirely transparent, as though Enne and Levi really were her dolls. And as much as he hated to play into her games, it was too easy for Levi to fall into this trap.
An intrusive picture of Enne in the arms of a South Side boy entered his mind, and the worst part of it wasn’t that Enne would do better with a South Sider—it was that shewouldn’t. If she was going to dance with anyone, it should be with him. If she was going to be with anyone, she should be with him. Their secrets, their troubles, their destinies were intertwined, and no matter what lengths Levi took to avoid her, it wouldn’t matter. It would always be her. It would always be him.
Levi wanted to be better about keeping his promises, he really did. But he was also bitter, and for the past few weeks—the past fewyears—he’d been scared that bitterness was all he’d ever feel. Maybe he couldn’t help himself, and he’d never stop wanting. Or maybe everything he had seemed insignificant because he didn’t have her.
“Why don’t you tell him about the parties?” Vianca asked Enne, whose gaze was fixed on her heaping plate.
“It hardly seems important,” she breathed.
“It looks like it’s important to Levi.”
Enne’s gaze whipped toward him, and Levi’s face burned. It would’ve only taken a single look from her to shatter his resolve entirely, but her face was unreadable.
“Whatever you’re about to ask us,” Levi told Vianca, “please just do so.”So we can leave.He needed some fresh air. Away from Enne. Away from here.
“We haven’t made it through the entrées yet,” Vianca responded. “And I really do need your help with this.”
“With what?” Enne asked coolly.
Vianca crossed her arms as if to say,Fine. “Election Day is on November ninth, and that night St. Morse will be hosting a white-tie affair for when the results are announced. I expect nearly everyone of influence in attendance, here to celebrate as a monarchist candidate finally gets elected to the Republic’s Senate. I’ve waited my entire career for this moment, and I want the event to be extravagant.”
Levi’s heart skipped on the wordextravagant, and he knew what Vianca was about to ask before she asked it.
“I’ll need fifty thousand volts.”
There it was. His stomach clenched—that was a fortune.
“From each of you.”
He should’ve known the moment he walked in this room that Vianca would ask for voltage. All this talk about achievements and potential—she obviously wanted a piece of their success. But he wouldn’t steal from the Irons again. Fulfilling her demand would mean letting the casino opportunity pass him by, but at least his conscience would be clear.
“You can’t be serious,” Enne said, gaping. “By when?”
