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“Yes, I said that it has been a horrible shame you have not visited lately. Come to the kitchen. We’ll have Sangre and talk. It has been ages, and I’ve missed you.”
Lila allowed herself to be led into the kitchen.
Dixon followed uncertainly.
Max dropped her hand once they arrived in the kitchen, ushering them to a little nook in the corner. Four burnished steel chairs sat around a glass table. Max fetched a bottle of Sangre on the counter and snatched up a wine opener. After uncorking it with a hollow pop, he poured the wine into three glasses and carried them to the table. His chair squeaked against the floor as he sat between the two, facing the glass so he could stare out into the night, like a king surveying his property.
He shoved a glass to her and another to Dixon, watching their faces.
Lila eyed the wine. She didn’t dare refuse. A man like Max would latch on to her reluctance instantly, peppering her with questions and languid stares.
“You nearly got thrown into a holding cell,” Max said. “I bugged the room myself. I know how close it came.”
“Bugged?”
“Yes, before you threw it out. I wasn’t the only one, either. It seems your new friends took an interest. I’d ask what that’s about, but I don’t believe you’d tell me. Besides, there are things I want to know about more.”
“Like?”
“Like you left the Closing Ball with Senator Dorian La Roux last month. I know of him, and what I know of him doesn’t paint the brightest of pictures. You disappeared from New Bristol before we could have a chat about that.”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“Plenty. Out of all the senators in that room, why did you choose him?”
“Why not him? I picked a senator for the season. It turned out to be a very short season indeed.”
“I don’t believe you.” Max turned to Dixon. “Lila likes her little jokes, but when something is really bothering her, she can’t joke about it at all. She just made a joke, therefore I can only assume she had no feelings for the man at all. I’m glad for that.”
“I barely knew him, and it’s been a month.”
“Yes, you barely knew him because he died the next night. I read it was a car accident, but I’ve heard all sorts of whispers.”
“You always hear whispers. Not all of them turn out to be true.”
“Not all, but I have more than one spy in Bullstow. It seems his father, the elder Senator La Roux, took ill the day after his son died. He didn’t even go to the funeral. The man won’t talk about his son and gets bristly whenever he’s mentioned.”
Dixon fixed his gaze upon her.
“People grieve in many ways,” Lila said.
“Not the senator. He lost a dog and grieved more.”
“Perhaps he liked the dog better than the son.”
The corner of Max’s mouth twisted. “That’s not what my sources say. He was beloved. Charming and a bit cocky, as are many men of Bullstow.”
“I barely knew him, but I know that calling him a bit cocky is an understatement.”
“I bet you know a great deal more than you’re letting on, but then, you usually do.”
Lila faked a small sip of her wine. She licked the taste of blackberry from her lips and set the glass down once more.
Reluctantly.
Max folded his hands in his lap. “Fine. Tell me something else instead. You’ve either been exiled or you’ve left your mother’s estate by choice. The information my people have gleaned is fuzzy at best.”
“Perhaps it’s a little from column A and a little from column B.”
