Page 71 of A Vicious Love

“And send flowers to Gideon’s wife.”

That made him look at me.

“Flowers?”

“White lilies.”

His expression sharpened. “Funeral flowers.”

I smiled without humour. “She’ll understand before he does.”

Reeves gave a short nod and typed it in.

Harlan tightened under my hands, with each error I corrected.

This was the part of me that worked.

I never got the dynasty heir role right.

This, the king beneath the casino. Syndicate work was cleaner than family. In my world, violence was violence.

By three, the first Harrington shell had frozen.

By four, Marrow’s river east house had no doors.

By four fifteen, our missing finance handler turned up at a private clinic with two broken ribs, no shoes, and enough fear to start talking before Reeves put the phone to his ear.

By five, I knew the fire had been planned in three parts.

Marrow lit the match.

Harrington paid for the access.

Someone inside Harlan society had chosen the date. That was the part that didn’t go well. Because it meant this wasn’t just syndicate noise.

One of the families smiling at me under chandeliers had helped decide when my hotel should burn. Worse, they had done it on a night Sienna was supposed to be beside me.

The thought lodged under my ribs.

If she had come, she would have been in the hotel.

Waiting somewhere too close to the west wing while men used stolen codes and delayed fire systems. To burn my fucking hotel.

My grip tightened around the edge of the table.

Reeves stopped talking.

“What?” he asked quietly.

I looked at the event timeline on screen. Birthday launch. West wing fire. Sienna absent. She had given me the gift of not dealing with her. And that kept her out of a burning building.

I stepped back from the table.

“Find who chose the date.”

“We will.”

“No,” I said. “You will find them before I leave that benefit tonight, or I start assuming everyone in this room is too comfortable.”