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Chapter Twelve
Sebastian
I just lied to my brother, and I can’t honestly say I know why.
Technically, if you count lies of omission, I’ve lied to him twice now. The first time being when he told me the Raven Society was planning to interfere with the summit meeting, and I hadn’t revealed to him that I know exactly who they sent to do that. I should have told him that instant, but I didn’t. Something had stopped me.
And now, in my office, it had come off my tongue just as instinctually. I’d told him Luciana was a waitress so he wouldn’t think she was anyone important. So, hopefully, he wouldn’t spare her a second glance after this. If he thinks she’s just my daily fuck, he won’t deem her special in any way.
Because that’s all she is. Obviously.
I glance over my shoulder at her as the thought moves through my head. I’m leading her down to the main wine cellar, not my smaller private one, to meet with Violet so they can start delivering presents to our new arrivals. Luciana has a strangely serious look on her face. Perhaps I should admit I’m lying to myself as well, at least a tiny bit. Otherwise, I’d have outed her by now, locked her up somewhere so she can’t continue whatever her plan is.
But she intrigues me. It’s not that she’s the first part-witch-part-demon I’ve come across, but they’re fairly rare. And I’ve never met any that have magic like hers, the way it feels when it interacts with mine. Then of course there’s the whole spy thing. I’m curious to see it all play out, and if I tell Caspian, he’ll kill her instantly.
That’s where my brother and I are different. He likes to crush any threats, very shoot first, ask questions later. Whereas I… I want to play this little game to the end. Or at least until it gets boring. Luciana thinks she’s spying on me, while pretending she’s spying for me, but I’m really spying on her. It has a certain poetry.
“There you are,” Violet says as we enter the main cellar.
It’s a large room with low ceilings made of brown stone, arched like a tunnel and filled with huge wine-stained barrels running in neat rows down either side. The far wall contains floor-to-ceiling wine racks.
“Drazos is here,” she continues.
“So I heard,” I respond, trying not to sound petulant. She raises a brow, and I say, “Caspian told me.”
“Apologies, sir.” Violet drops her eyes. “I only just got the call from the front desk myself a moment before you walked in.”
“Well, it seems they saw fit to notify my brother first and foremost.” I smile with a clenched jaw.
“I’ll take care of it,” she says with a sharp nod.
“Do that,” I say. “Luciana can handle the deliveries for our guests.”
“Sir—”
My eyes flash. “Now, Violet.”
Violet strides past us, and I don’t miss the withering look she casts Luciana as she does. That’s interesting. Violet’s not usually the jealous type. I’ll have to see how that plays out as well.
“What would you like me to deliver to our guests?” Luciana asks after Violet has left the cellar.
“I’ll email you a list of what each of them likes.” I pause a moment and forward her a list from my phone. “Gather up the bottles first. In the next room over—” I pause and point— “There are several refrigerators full of luxury cheeses and chocolates. There’s also a pantry with local honey, jams, bread, and the like. Ice buckets for the bubbly, baskets, glasses. Put something nice together and deliver to Aza and Drazos over at the hotel. Then repeat as the others arrive.”
Luciana nods, then pulls up my email on her phone to scroll through the names of our guests. I’m playing with fire sending her the list, though it’s first name only. I’m not sure what the Raven Society’s plan is, but this no doubt benefits them. Flirting with danger is one of my favorite pastimes.
Of course, I’ve also put a trace on the email so I can see any recipients she sends it to and the IP address they read it from. This game goes both ways.
Luciana keeps a perfectly neutral expression as she reads through the email. “For Julian, it has a question mark next to red wine?”
“Ah, yes. I haven’t yet found his favorite.”
“Has he tried the 2005 bourbon-barrel aged Pinor Noir?”
“Well, someone did their homework,” I say, impressed. “That’s an excellent choice, let’s try it and see.”
“I can behave myself occasionally,” she says with a teasing smile.
“As long as it doesn’t become a habit.”
