Page 42 of A Vicious Love

Emmie tried again. “Is Madame Aveline being terrifying?”

“A little.”

Jamison’s glass shifted in his hand.

A group of investors approached then, and I was grateful for them in a way that made me feel ill.

Jamison’s face changed before they reached us. The private, vicious mood hardened. The kind of menace wealthy men admired when it made them money.

“Crow,” one of the men greeted.

“Davenport,” Jamison replied.

Introductions moved around the group. I stood beside Jamison, hands clasped, posture perfect, smile soft.

That was what I was good for.

The monster of Harlan became easier to approach when there was a pale girl beside him looking harmless enough to imply he had one human attachment.

People looked at me and relaxed by half an inch.

I softened the outline of him.

Tonight, I did it while terrified of standing too close.

A woman in sapphire silk asked how I liked the hotel.

“It’s extraordinary,” I said.

That was safe.

A man joked about whether Jamison had built the casino to bankrupt half of Harlan personally.

I smiled because everyone else did.

“Only the half that deserves it.” Jamison said.

They laughed too loudly.

I did not.

I stood there for nearly an hour while people came and went. Investors. Dynasty heirs. Men from old money families who pretended not to fear Crow capital. Women who complimented my dress and then looked at Jamison to see whether he cared.

He spoke business.

Every few minutes, one of his brothers checked on me without making it obvious.

Marcel asked if I wanted water.

I said no.

Harrison asked if I had seen the rooftop yet.

I said no.

Emmie asked if I wanted to sit with her.

I said I was fine.