A door to their right led to Narinder’s bedroom.
Before he opened it, Narinder playfully tugged at the buttons of Levi’s shirt. Then he whispered something in Levi’s ear that made his face heat.
“I remember you saying something earlier about this being a church,” Levi murmured.
“No one comes here to confess their sins,” Narinder said. “They come to commit them.” With one hand clutching the belt loops of Levi’s trousers, he fumbled with his other to open the door.
Levi laughed as they nearly toppled inside. But lust hardly seemed the deadliest of sins he would commit tonight. Every time he kissed Narinder—even though he liked his honey scent, the slopes of him, the way his voice sounded when he was breathless—Levi started picturing something else. How Narinder had so easily spoken to the most famous patrons of his club. How he’d growled at Levi this morning thatheowned this establishment, and no one else. How people talked about Levi, about Narinder—and maybe about NarinderandLevi.
Because no matter how much Levi liked him, he was doing this for a reason...and not one so frivolous as a distraction. Maybe this was his worst quality; one that had led Enne straight into Vianca’s hands, had handed him a one-way invitation to the House of Shadows.
But maybe it was also his best. The start of Levi’s life had been a sad story, and ever since he’d come to New Reynes, he’d set his sights on rewriting it into one worth telling. Every decision he made factored into that desire. Even letting Enne walk away. Even letting Narinder take her place.
Levi let himself be guided onto the bed.
Ambition was the deadliest sin of all.
ENNE
Enne, Lola, and Grace huddled together in the lone habitable room of Madame Fausting’s Finishing School for Girls, staring at the four orbs on the desk in front of them. It was beastly hot—each of them had stripped down to the barest clothing they possessed, save for their undergarments: Enne in a lacy camisole, Lola in an oversize men’s undershirt, Grace in a black slip. In the room’s corner, a radio played popular songs from the South Side’s music halls that sounded overly cheerful for their strained moods.
“There’s only seventy volts left,” Enne said, examining the orbs, as if willing them to multiply. “How long will that last us?”
“How long until Pup pulls whatever stunt he promised?” Grace asked.
“Ifhe manages it,” Lola muttered.
Enne would rather avoid thinking about Levi. Thoughts of him brought up unpleasant memories from last night; of how he’d shut her out without so much as an apology. Of spotting him twenty minutes later with his lips pressed against someone else’s. She had far more important problems in her life than romance, but—as she’d learned these past few days—she could apparently carry multitudes of pains and worries all at once, even if they contradicted each other.
But it didn’t matter how she felt about him. Levi had wagered everything she’d worked for on a gamble, just to feed his own ego.
Howdarehe?
“We could find something temporary,” Enne suggested.
“You’re right,” Lola said sarcastically. “We could set up a lemonade stand on the beach.”
Enne rubbed her temples, trying not to feel hopeless.
“You know, I once read somewhere of a girl making friends with wealthy South Siders and convincing them she was some sort of heiress,” Grace said. “And she attended all sorts of parties, ate at all the most expensive restaurants, with everyone around her paying the tab.”
“Very funny,” Enne muttered.
“It’s a viable option. When exactly are these parties? We’re all sitting around here sweating and counting milivolts when we could be preparing to become wealthy widows.”
Lola pursed her lips. “If that’s what you want, why have you been working as an assassin?”
Grace winked at her. “Practice.”
The song on the radio changed, this one even peppier than the last. It was a duet about how love was easy, and it infuriated Enne so much that she huffed over to the radio and quickly changed the station.
“For someone who’s been gone from New Reynes for so long,” an interviewer spoke, “what thoughts crossed your mind when you were asked to return?”
“Well, I was very flattered, and interested. New Reynes is my home, and I’ve been wanting to return for some time,” the man answered. “Over the past several days, I’ve been traveling around the city—through both the North and South Sides. Since the terrible night of the Chancellor’s assassination, violence has already broken out in the lower income, higher crime neighborhoods. And that’s what is ugly about this business—”
“Turn that off,” Grace complained. “Just because you’re feeling all sour doesn’t mean we can’t listen to music.”
“I want to listen,” Lola argued, and so Enne turned the volume up higher. She wanted to listen, too.
