An evil glint shone in her eyes. “Are you kidding me?”
Oh boy. I couldn’t read her emotions. Was she angry? Murderous? Was I about to join the many bodies she and her brother had discussed burying?
“He kissed you,” she repeated.
“Um…yes?”
A slow breath seeped through her clenched teeth. Then, without any warning, she gave a loud whoop and fist punched the air. “I knew it! I fucking knew he liked you!”
Wait. “You knew?”
“Please!” Thorne exclaimed, already launching into a gleeful spin. “The moment he offered to buy the bar, I knew something was up. Lucien has never offered to buy someone out before. He’s never needed to.”
She paused mid-jig to stab a finger in my direction. “And then you sweep into town, all gorgeous and vulnerable and broken, and boom, the boy changes tactics. When you turned him down, he could have gone all megalomaniac on you. Instead, he protected you. He walked you home! He posted a guard.”
With a cackling laugh, she did a victorious heel-click. An actual heel-click. I stared in disbelief.
“This is just perfect!” she crowed.
“Uh, what’s so perfect about this?” I asked cautiously.
“I’ve been waiting for years—years, Izzy!—to bring that asshole down a peg. I bided my time, waiting for the right moment. And now”—she swept a dramatic hand in my direction—“here you are. You’re my secret weapon, darling.”
“Whoa,” I said, throwing my hands into the air. “I’m no one’s weapon. Or bait. And I’m certainly not a plot device in your weird revenge fantasy.”
Thorne pouted. “Oh, come on! It’ll be fun. Just imagine—him groveling. In public, no less. Maybe even shirtless. I wouldn’t mind that. It’d be cathartic. We can bring him to his knees. Embarrass him. Ruin him. Oh, this is glorious.” She actually rubbed her hands together.
Something hot and sharp stabbed my chest, and it surprised me to realize I was angry. Not just mad but downright pissed. The hot, blistering rage hit me so fast, I forgot how to breathe.
Thorne wanted to ruin him? Embarrass him in front of the whole town?
Fuck no. I absolutely refused to play party to that.
Thorne must have caught the change in my scent, because she froze, and her playful smirk faltered. “Izzy?”
“Need I remind you,” I said, my voice practically shaking, “that I was recently the victim of someone else’s little power play? That I lost everything? That Trystan humiliated me like I didn’t matter?”
Her lips parted, but I didn’t let her speak.
“Do you actually think I’d turn around and do that to someone else?”
Thorne blinked, clearly thrown off-balance. The humor drained from her expression and her arms dropped to her sides. The mischief was gone, and all that remained was something far more human. Humbled.
“Izzy…” she started, her voice softer now. “I didn’t think?—”
“I know,” I said, still holding her gaze. “But maybe it’s time I’m clear about where I stand.”
I hesitated, hoping this didn’t blow up in my face. I liked Thorne. I wanted her in my life. But not if this was who she really was. The person behind the mask.
“Thorne, I’m grateful for you. For everything you’ve done. You welcomed me, showed me friendship, kindness. I don’t want to lose that. I value it and you. But whatever grudge your family has with the St. Germains? It has nothing to do with me. I didn’t come here to get swept up into another game. I came here to start over. To survive and rebuild and make something for myself. I won’t let anyone use me as a pawn. Not you. Not Lucien. Not anyone.”
She didn’t argue. Just silently watched me.
Finally, I added in a softer tone, “Lucien knows you’re my business partner. And he hasn’t once asked me to compromise that. He hasn’t tried to sabotage me, or you, for that matter. I’m hoping you can give me the same courtesy. I’m not asking you to like him. But I am asking you to understand my choices. Hurting someone the way Trystan hurt me is not something I could ever do.” I shook my head. “I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”
Thorne stared at me for a moment longer. Then she whispered, “You like him.”
I didn’t flinch. “I do,” I admitted, because there was no point in pretending otherwise. “I can’t explain why. He’s everything I should hate. But when we’re alone, I see the real man. Not the vampire cultivated by his family. Not the cold businessman. Just him.”
