“You are?” I ask, uneasy.
He smiles at me, but there’s nothing warm about it. “Where are my manners? I’m Mr. Beaumont.” Taking my hand, he places a kiss on my knuckles.
I try to free my fingers from his steel grip without luck. Aside from the whole ‘enemy of my husband’ dilemma, something about him sets me on edge. He’s undressing me with his eyes in a way that slithers over my skin like slick eels.
His eyes bore into me as he lingers with his lips on my skin, and I try to yank my hand away again.
Releasing me, he straightens. “You look breathtaking tonight, Miss van der Meer.”
“Drop the flattery. How do you know my maiden name?”
“I have my ways, but don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
I try to slide from between him and the Greek statue at my back, but he blocks my path, imposing and large.
“I can help you.”
“Help me? I doubt it.” I try to sidestep him again.
Beaumont doesn’t stop me this time.
My shoulder brushes against his chest, and I try not to sprint.
I hate feeling like I’ve turned my back on an enemy, but I also refuse to show weakness when I’m unarmed and at a disadvantage to the opposition.
“Don’t you want to find out what happened to your father?” he calls out.
I can hear the assured smile in his voice. Beaumont knows he’s caught me on his hook, and he humors me by allowing me to walk away because he knows I’ll turn around.
“Let me guess. That husband of yours isn’t giving you the answers you seek.”
I come to a halt.Don’t fall for it. He’s baiting you on purpose. Don’t turn around.
As I hold my breath, my frantic pulse pounds in my throat.
“Mr. Delacroix knows more about your father’s fate than he lets on.”
I’m sure my heart is about to beat out of my chest. I’ve looked for answers for so long without luck. Everywhere I turned was another dead-end, and I was ready to throw it all out, ready to die if it meant killing as many members of this corrupt secret society as possible. At least then, I would have dented their armor.
I slowly turn around. “What do you know about my father?”
His eyes crease at the corners, reminding me of a cat who caught the canary.
Before I know what’s happening, I’m striding up to him like a woman on a mission. “What do you know about my father?” I ask more forcefully this time.
He reaches out to trace my collarbone with his finger, so I swat him away.
“Don’t touch me!”
Chuckling, he slides the offending hand into his pocket. “I know your husband is connected to your father’s disappearance.”
“How do you know that? More importantly, how can I trust you? I know all about your family rivalry.”I don’t.“What if you’re making this up? For all I know,youmurdered my father…” I step closer, baring my teeth. “And I should kill you.”
“You can’t trust me,” he replies with a shrug, ignoring my threat, “but I’m your best shot at finding answers.”
“What’s in it for you? Money? I heard about your financial woes after Darian sabotaged your weapon run.”
His eyes darken, and he looks away, rubbing his ticking jaw. When he returns his focus to me, my insides shrivel. If hatred had a face, it’s staring back at me now. “Your money is no good to me, Mrs. Delacroix.”
