Vance’s face goes rigid. The polite mask finally shatters. He looks old, suddenly. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."
"I’m not a judge, Vance. I don't need a defense," I say. I lean forward. "I just need to know one thing. How much does Silas pay you for my routes?"
He stares at me, his lip trembling. "He tells me you are finished. That you are a liability. I am just... I am saving myself."
"You aren't saving yourself," I say, standing up. "You are selling me."
I signal to the guards by the door. "Take him."
"Lorcan, please—"
I don't look back. I walk out, the concrete floor vibrating under my boots. I don't want to hear the rest. I have what I need.
I go straight to the East Wing and find her in the sunroom, watching the mountains. She's on the rug with a book in her lap, not reading. She looks up as I come in, guarded, until her eyes land on me and something in them eases.
"It's done," I say.
She sets the book down. "Is he gone?"
"He's gone."
I cross to her and stop, hands in my pockets. "You found what we missed. Twice."
"I'm good at my job." Calm, with a flicker of pride in the set of her chin.
"You are."
I stand there looking at her. She seems small in the middle of the room, but the air around her isn't the trapped, frightened air of a hostage anymore.
"You should pay me," she says.
It's the most direct she's ever been. No stutter. She just waits.
A smile pulls at me—rare enough that I notice it happening. I reach down, take her hand, and draw her up. She comes without hesitation and stops in front of me, eyes on mine.
"You're tired," I murmur.
"I'm exhausted," she admits.
I walk her toward the bedroom, and she comes, her hand tight in mine. For once it doesn't feel like keeping a captive. It feels like keeping an equal.
The room is dim, the evening light coming through the curtains in long gold stripes. I sit on the edge of the bed and pull her between my knees, trace the line of her jaw, the curve of her ear. I look at her—really look.
"You're staying," I say.
"I'm staying," she answers.
I kiss her. It is slow and deliberate. We move together, the sheets cool and smooth beneath our skin. Everything feels heightened. The way she makes that small, hitching sound when I kiss the sensitive skin at the base of her throat.
"I have the ledger," she whispers against my neck, her breath hot. "I found your reward."
"Have you?" I growl, pulling her hair back so I can see her face. Her eyes are dark, glazed with desire. "And what is it?"
"You," she breathes. "You're the reward."
I don't wait. I pin her wrists to the mattress, my body settling over hers, heavy and hard.
I dive into her. I trail my tongue from the hollow of her throat, down the line of her collarbone, and over the rise of her breast. I take a nipple into my mouth, sucking hard, using my tongue to swirl around the sensitive tip until she is arching her back and crying out my name. My hand moves down, over the flat of her stomach, tracing the curve of her hip before sliding between her thighs.
