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I waited to see what he was going to say next.
“You realize, of course, that as a member of the jarl, he can pay you handsomely,” he apprised me. “Simply tell me what kind of payday you’re looking for and it will be arranged.”
It hit me then, and I straightened from my tense, ready position and put the dirty cheese-covered knife down on the counter. “You have no idea who I am.”
“Pardon me?”
“That’s funny.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
I crossed my arms, staring at him. “Did Wyn not tell you whose house you were breaking into?”
“I didn’t break in, Wyn invited me in.”
“It’s not Wyn’s house to invite you into.”
“That hardly matters.”
“Regardless, you’ve made a mistake.”
“I don’t think so. You’re a cataloger at Hudson’s. Tell me what you want for the diary.”
“What makes you think I found anything?”
“When I told River about the hope chest today, he checked his records, and there was no mention of such an item. That, combined with the fact that you’ve denied nothing, clearly means you’ve stumbled across what his whole family has been hunting for.”
“If they were so concerned over the possible existence of a diary, why not make certain that no stone went unturned, as it were?”
“There’s only so long they can look, and a hundred years seemed like more than enough time to hunt for what everyone thought was simply a family legend.”
I nodded.
“But you’re very clever and found it.”
“It sounds like whoever discovered the hope chest in a sealed-off servant’s quarters might be the clever one.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But now, back to me making a mistake.”
“You don’t remember me,” I said simply.
“Remember you? Wyn told me all about you today, read me your entire personnel file.”
I turned to Wyn, feeling the anger rolling through me. I was such an idiot. Out of the blue Wynton Coe was interested in me? What a fool I was. “This probably goes without saying, but this was the first and last meal we will ever share.”
“Now wait, I—”
“When he goes, you need to go too.”
“No, Sasha, I really—”
“You really wanted to be paid,” I told him. “Which Royce here, through River, will do. I hope you’ll have the good manners not to speak to me at work ever again.”
“But I—”
“And so you know,” I said, turning back to Royce. “I’m Aleksander Norwood. My father is Artyom Norwood, who owns Norwood Alliance. He builds all over the world, and lately he’s begun many new ventures with Graeme Davenport… so I certainly don’t need your money, alpha.”
His eyes went big and round. “You’re an omega.”
