“’Lo,” Jac said to him.
“’Lo,” Levi echoed, not looking up.
Jac had no idea why Levi would be sulking at his own party, but what he had to say couldn’t wait for Levi’s mood to improve. He cleared his throat. “I want you to meet someone. This is my boss.”
Levi took a look at their hands and raised an eyebrow. Then he wearily set his glass down and stood up. “I’m glad you came—I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Harrison needs a name by tomorrow. He wants to meet and everything. I know it hasn’t been long—”
Jac cleared his throat a second time. “That’s actually why I came over. This is—”
“Sophia Torren,” she finished for him, holding out a taffy as an offering. All her nervousness from earlier had vanished, as though confidence was a switch Sophia could simply turn on and off. When Levi just stared at her instead of reaching for the candy, she dropped it into his empty glass. “I’m going to be the next Torren Family donna.”
ENNE
Enne’s stomach was still recovering from her drunken gossip with Poppy that morning, but she sipped her Hotsy-Totsy, anyway. It was an excuse to sit even as the party grew wilder around her. She wasn’t in the mood to dance. She wanted to think.
Her bullet had provided the diversion needed for Levi to escape and for Tock to destroy the bridge. It wasn’t that Enne was bitter about their lack of gratitude—well, she definitelywasbitter—but she couldn’t stop replaying the moment in her mind when she’d fired. When she squeezed a gun in her hand, she felt capable. She feltpowerful.
Her thoughts drifted back to her familiar fantasy: the figures of the Phoenix Club disappearing around her like smoke. This time, they vanished in a puff of gunpowder.
“Are you just going to sit there and mope all night?” Grace demanded.
“I haven’t been moping,” she answered. It’d be nice to share her thoughts with Grace, but Grace had yet to swear to her, which meant there was still so much about Enne that she didn’t know.
“That was a good shot earlier.” Grace peered around the room, and her gaze settled on one of the tables. She winked at Enne. “I’m sure there are more ways to upstage the Irons. Do you know any card games?”
“Just one,” Enne answered darkly.
“Well, you should play a game of Tropps with me. I already know what I’ll bet.”
“And what is that?”
“My oath.”
Enne stiffened in surprise. “You shouldn’t bet that on a card game.”
Enne expected Grace to laugh, but instead she asked, “Why not?”
“Because swearing to me is about more than loyalty. There are...secrets. Things you don’t know.” Grace had worked as an assassin. She wore weapons as though they were accessories. But when she learned the truth, would she also look at Enne differently? As a danger to them all?
Enne’s secrets always seemed to push everyone away.
Rather than argue, Grace grabbed Enne’s hand and dragged her through the crowd. The air smelled of spilled bourbon, sweat, and cigarettes, and it was hot from the many bodies pressed together.
They approached a table and slid into the two available seats, Enne in between Grace and a pretty-faced card dealer.
Grace slid an orb into the pot, and it glowed dimly with a couple volts. “We’ll be boring for now. Loser has to buy the other dinner.”
Enne nodded shakily and took the hand the dealer slid her.
You may take your cards.
She heard Malcolm Semper’s voice as though he stood behind her, and her hands trembled as she stared at her hand. But they were only normal playing cards. This was only a game.
The dealer shot her a charming, lopsided smile. He had dimples and a dusting of freckles beneath his eyes. “You look nervous. Have you ever played before?”
Enne shook her head.
His face lit up, and he began to explain the rules. “All players, as you can see, start with three cards. Every round, you’ll be given a new card if you continue to bet.” As Enne leaned in to show him her cards and ask a question, he pushed them away with a laugh. “This isn’t like blackjack or poker. In Tropps, the dealer is another player in the game. You can’t go showing me your hand.”
