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I open it, and carefully ease the lining away from the seam, to find the hidden pocket. Inside, is a locket. With Miles’ photo inside. It’s from an old photo-strip, we took it at Coney Island, in one of the old-fashioned booths, skipping out of the city for the day to ride the roller-coasters and eat salt-water taffy on the shore.
It was a perfect day. I look at his goofy, smiling face, and feel my resolve strengthen.
Whatever it takes, it’ll be worth it to avenge his death.
I finish dressingand go downstairs. The dining room is dark and empty, but I can see lights and some staff outside, so I follow them to where a beautiful candlelit table has been set up by the edge of the cliffs. There are fresh flowers, linen tablecloth, silver cutlery… With the moon overhead on a clear night, and the dark waves crashing below, it looks like something out of a romance scene.
Too bad the effect leaves me cold.
“What do you think?” Sebastian’s voice makes me turn. He’s approaching, dressed in a suit, with his shirt open at the collar. I know a hundred—if not a thousand—women would be swooning over a handsome man like this, staging a romantic dinner, but I can’t bring myself to pretend I’m one of them.
“It looks lovely,” I say evenly, and take a seat. “Do you treat all your gambling wins like this?”
Sebastian chuckles. “Only the most beautiful,” he says, nodding for the staff to leave. He picks up a bottle. “Champagne?”
“Fine.” I shrug. Then I remember, I can’t be surly or offended for too long. Sebastian might lose interest and figure I’m too much of a downer. “Thank you,” I add, giving him a shy smile.
He pulls out my chair for me, then pours us both a glass. “Cheers,” he says, raising his in a toast to me.
“What are we drinking to?” I ask.
“To… unexpected new acquaintances.” Sebastian is still watching me, like he’s gauging my mood.
I give a wry smile. “Unexpected is right,” I say, clinking my glass to his and taking a sip. “When I left America, I definitely didn’t think I’d wind up here. With you.”
Sebastian seems to relax a little. The server brings our first course, some kind of beef tartare. I poke it, dubious.
“Here, you need to mix it in with the egg yolk, and lemon. It’s delicious,” he reassures me, and reaches over to prepare the dish for me.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’m not exactly used to fancy food, or fine dining.”
“No?” Sebastian seems surprised. “I would have thought… But never mind. How did you find yourself with Nero?”
I look down. “Much the same way I found myself with you,” I say quietly. “My pops used to have a saying, ‘Out of the frying pan, into the fire.’ That’s kind of what the past few weeks have been like for me.”
I glance up. Sure enough, Sebastian is fixed on me, curious. “Tell me more.”
I’ve been over my fake backstory a dozen times, and it almost feels natural as I explain.
“I grew up with my dad, upstate. We had a small farm, and I guess things got rough, because it turns out, he was in debt to the Barrettis. I didn’t know, not until after he passed, and Nero showed up to take the farm. He saw me, and, well… He let me stay with an aunt of mine, the past few years, until I turned twenty-one. And then… Then he came to collect.”
I look down again, playing the innocent.
“And did he?” Sebastian asks, taking a sip of champagne.
“What?”
“Collect.”
My eyes fly up at the question. “I… Don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.” Sebastian’s lips curl in a knowing smile.
I flush, for real this time. There’s something about the candlelight and champagne. I feel exposed. Like Sebastian’s blunt questions are stripping me bare, right in front of him.
I shake my head. “I… I was supposed to be his reward. For beating you, at the poker game,” I say.
And I know my demure answer is the right one, because Sebastian’s smile grows.
