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He smiles, studies me, then shakes his head and returns his focus to his plate.
“I mean it, Santiago. This wasn’t fair, and you know it.”
He puts his fork and knife down and wipes his mouth. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were purposely trying to push my buttons.”
“I’m not. I just wanted to see my dad. We had a deal.”
“A little bit of respect will go a long way. I realize you’re quite young, and your upbringing leaves much to be desired, but I thought you’d understood that at least.”
“You want me to ask you for permission? Is that it? Do you get off on that?”
“That’s one.”
“One what?”
“One strike. And I’m being generous. You have two left so take care.”
I open my mouth to tell him where he can shove his strike but think better of it and stuff a potato in while I think. I have a pretty good idea where strikes two and three will lead me.
“Mercedes mentioned the masquerade ball at IVI?” he asks.
“She said something about readying me for an event, but she wasn’t specific, and I didn’t get a chance to ask when she proceeded to remind me how lucky I am you chose to grace me with your attention. How grateful I should be to carry your last name. How I have a duty as your wife to devote myself to you and to The Society. Etcetera, etcetera.”
“Well, she is thorough if not dramatic.”
“Can I at least call her?”
“My sister?” he feigns confusion.
“My sister.”
“I will personally take you to see both your sister and your father myself after the gala.”
I’m surprised. “You will?”
“If you behave.”
I bite my lower lip. “For more than fifteen minutes?”
He nods.
“When is it?”
“In two nights.”
“Do you promise it’ll be a normal visit? No tricks? Nothing stupid you can talk your way out of?”
“You’re not a very trusting little thing, are you?”
“I’ve learned my lesson with you.” I resume eating, feeling at least a little victorious.
“You’re close with your sister?”
I nod. “I was close with both of them until Hazel left.”
“I remember that. Have you had contact with her?”
I look up at him, study his face in the play of candles. I would give anything to see him in full light.
“If I said yes, would you report it to The Society?” I know what will happen if they ever find her. She’ll be punished publicly for having turned her back on The Society. For having walked away from a Sovereign Son.
“Have you, Ivy?”
“No, Santiago, I have not. But if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Your father doesn’t search for her.”
“What?”
“He hadn’t ever really.”
I’m confused. I’m sure he sees it on my face, too, and maybe he’s just trying to figure out if I’m lying or if I know anything. Because he doesn’t fill in any blanks.
“How do you know that?” I ask a little more uncertainly.
“I know a great deal.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Of course he’s looking for her. She disappeared after—” I stop abruptly. Was he friends with the man she was supposed to marry? They’re all like brothers, right? The Sovereign Sons. All have each other’s backs.
Hazel ran away days before her wedding. She just vanished into thin air. No note, no nothing. I understand her not leaving anything for our parents because they were the ones pushing her, but she didn’t even leave one for me. I have always wondered if she could because I don’t believe she’d leave without a single word to me.
“They won’t stop looking for her. But you probably know that,” he warns.
I do. The Society does not let those who wander from the path they’ve laid out for them go unpunished. If they let them go at all.
Especially a woman.
Especially a woman ranked as low as we are.
“And they will find her. In time,” he adds.
I shudder at the thought and slip my fork and knife diagonally on my plate. I’ve lost my appetite.
“It’s been six years. They can’t…hurt her anymore,” I say. He remains silent. “Can they, Santiago?”
“They? Don’t you mean we?”
I just watch him. Is he trying to scare me? Or is he trying to figure out if I truly have information on her whereabouts? I don’t, and for the first time in six years, I’m glad I don’t because I have a feeling my husband can detect lies.
“You’ve gone pale.” He pushes his chair back, stands, and comes to pull my chair out. He holds his hand out to me.
I look at it, then up at him.
“Come, Ivy. I will put you to bed.”
25
Ivy
It was funny that he asked me if I was searching for which buttons to push when he knows exactly which to push for me.
He put me to bed after dinner last night, exactly as he said. Dressing me in a sexy silk slip, then taking care to rub salve into the tattoo, he tucked me in like a freaking child, knowing all along how angry it made me. He didn’t touch me apart from taking care of the tattoo. When I saw the negligée, I assumed there would be something, and the fact that I’m bothered by that is even more frustrating than the rest of it.
