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I follow her up to the second floor and down a long hallway toward the back of the house. Gloria pauses outside a dark, imposing door and raps lightly with her knuckles. “Mr. Bettencourt, you have a visitor.”
“Send them in.”
She opens the door for me and keeps her eyes on the floor as I pass by. “Thank you, Gloria.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Chambers.” The door closes fast, nearly silent, and I slip my hands into my pockets and stroll into Bettencourt’s office.
He sits behind his big, fancy desk, watching me. Orange light from the fireplace refracts off the windows behind him. Glowing spheres in the garden give shape to the backyard below. It’s the only trace left of Lydia’s fairy-tale birthday party.
I pause in the center of the office and look at him, keeping my charming expression fully intact. “Evening, Mr. Bettencourt.”
He holds a cane lengthwise in front of his chest and rolls it between his fingers. It’s a sturdy piece. Looks like it would take some real force to break it. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a rack of antiques on the wall. There’s a sword, and—what the hell is that? A musket? An empty space between them is where the cane is supposed to go.
“I should kill you on sight for what you did.”
His tone is even, not an unhinged shout, and it sends a shiver down my spine. Even more charm, then. For Catherine. For Gabriel.
I purse my lips as if he’s expressed disappointment in my outfit, not threatened to kill me. “Listen, Mr. Bettencourt. You know me. I’ve been working for my father in London all this time, at his request. I never left the fold, unlike some of our mutual acquaintances.”
“Your actions at the initiation say otherwise.” He rolls the cane again. What is he planning to do with it? Throw it at me?
I put both hands to my chest and make my eyes as wide and innocent as possible, which at this point in my life is not as innocent as I’d like.
“You can trust me. I’d have gone through the initiation normally had Gabriel not been there.” This is probably—shamefully—true. If Gabriel hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t asked questions about it, I wouldn’t have seen the tarps. I’d have done what I needed to do and put it out of my mind. “I only went along with him to see what would happen next. I find his diversions entertaining.”
Bettencourt narrows his eyes.
“Obviously, at the end of the day, I’m with you. Gabriel doesn’t have your wealth or your power. It was only a bit of fun at the initiation. A…dalliance.”
I don’t like the way that lie tastes in my mouth. I’d expected Elise to be the one to break during the initiation, but the panic in Gabriel’s eyes will follow me for the rest of my life.
Elise’s father, the sick bastard who planned the whole thing, considers me. “A dalliance? I thought it might have been because you were fucking him as a teenager.”
My smile sharpens itself without my permission. “Well, yes. Gabriel is a beautiful man. But beauty is transient. Beauty can be bought. Which is why I’d much rather have money and power than any further dalliances.”
“It would be the correct choice, Mr. Chambers. I’m pleased you’ve come around to the appropriate conclusion.”
“Call me Jacob.” I do not want him to call me Jacob. I don’t want to speak to this man any longer than I have to. The energy in this room is substantially off. Who’s to say this hasn’t been the scene of a murder?
“Jacob.” Bettencourt says my name like a threat. “I know you didn’t come here to see me.” He lifts his chin and raises his voice. “Catherine.”
He barks her name, and the office door opens. Someone must have brought her to wait outside. Catherine brushes by me, leaving a hint of her scent in the air. It reminds me of sun and springtime. A fresh breeze.
The opposite of her father’s office, which smells like leather and homicide.
Catherine stands at the corner of his desk. The moment her hands fold in front of her, the moment her head bows—that’s when I decide.
Because even in profile, I can see red around her eyes, like she’s been crying. I won’t have her looking at the floor, cowed and afraid. She was pretty at that charity gala, with bright eyes and a sly wit, and I thought she was too young and innocent for me. That didn’t stop her from flirting, just a little, just enough to know she had a crush on me.
I was charmed, even as I dismissed her. It was my father who wanted the match. Bettencourt did, too, if his plan is to force her into it.
“There you are, sweetheart.” The words are out of my mouth and I’m in motion before she has the chance to say a word. It only takes a few steps to reach her. The first thing I do is put my fingers underneath her chin and tip her face to mine. I hope to Christ she won’t pull away.
She doesn’t.
I give her a quick breath of a kiss and take her in my arms. Catherine’s body is stiff, so I angle us away from Bettencourt. Bend low as if to inhale her. What is that scent? It’s delicious on her.
“Go along with it,” I hum into her ear.
