Page 38 of Greed: The Savage (Seven Deadly Sins #7)

D espite Addien’s protestations earlier that morn, the Duke of Argyll insisted she join him for dinner.

Given he was her new employer, she couldn’t very well have told the notorious rogue to go hang—as all her street-born instincts insisted she do.

He’d sent a gown, urging her—demanding, when it came from one’s employer—to don the cream, white, and gold lace evening dress.

He’d had her to dine in the same parlor where they’d taken tea that afternoon.

Just as he’d no doubt had his efficient servants position their table before the bucolic scene which had sucked Addien in, the same way he’d had their chairs positioned close to one another.

His game had been an obvious one.

Or so she’d believed.

He’d been bent on seduction, not because he wanted her, but because she’d come out of the Devil’s Den.

Only to be frozen motionless by the actual reason.

He’d anticipated someone would come for her.

And she’d been both broken and practical enough to never believe someone would come. Or that it would be Malric.

Because it couldn’t be anyone on account this was the place he couldn’t reach her. If one stepped outside Dynevor’s and into any other club, they’d surrender their livelihood with the earl.

As such, it definitely could not be Malric for that reason. If he did, he’d forsake his career and position of power at the Devil’s Den. And Malric’s livelihood was everything.

But he was here.

What did that mean? What could it mean?

“Malric,” she whispered.

She knew what she desperately wanted it to be.

“You have something I want, Argyll.” Malric’s piercing gaze remained on Addien while he spoke. “And very much need.”

Me?

For a heartbeat, the fire’s glow made her believe tenderness dwelled in his gaze, an answer to her unspoken prayer. Then the light shifted, and she saw it for what it was—an illusion. His eyes were only steel.

“…Tell me who you belong to…!”

Her chest ached, hollow and raw. Of course he hadn’t come for her. His claim had always been possession, not love. At most, Malric was here to take back what was his.

With a slow, false arch of his golden brows, the duke feigned surprise, every inch of it a taunt meant to undermine.

Addien wanted to weep.

The Duke of Argyll’s amused drawl shattered the raw intensity between them.

“Of all the gentlemen I expected to pay a call this day, you were certainly not the one, Thornwick.” With feigned casualness, the rakish proprietor lifted his champagne flute.

“I’d have been delighted if Latimer came crawling back. ”

Addien stormed to her feet.

“As if he would return to the man who betrayed him,” Addien spat. “You should be on your knees, begging his forgiveness.”

From the corner of her eye, she caught the faint curl of Malric’s mouth, admiration, wry amusement—but nothing more. It was not love. It could never be love. Only approval, tossed like a scrap at her starving heart.

The duke’s mouth curved, though not in a smile.

“I had hoped for Dynevor.” He poured his glass with unhurried grace, his voice smooth as poisoned honey.

“Never did I expect the brother of the man who nearly cost me my sister. Perhaps it is even sweeter to keep in my employ the exquisite prize a Mauley was too blind to hold.”

Malric’s broad shoulders drew taut. Her proud, impermeable Malric struck by a shame he would never show. And the sight of him taunted for sins not his own cut Addien to the core.

She could not protect him from the hurt of Argyll’s first taunt, but she could certainly save him from the other.

Placing her hands on the table, she leaned over the duke’s still languidly reposed figure. “You don’t know anything. Mal— His Lordship ” Addien swiftly corrected. At her slip-up, a knowing smile curved Argyll’s lips. “If ye brought me on staff thinking Lord Thornwick’s got some affection for me—”

“Oh, I would call it something more than that.” Argyll stretched out all the syllables of that rebuttal.

She spoke over him. “Or ye can somehow use me to anger him, then you’re going to be disappointed. It ain’t like that. He doesn’t care about me.”

There at least she could save Malric some part of his pride.

The duke slid a glance over at Malric, who remained stone-still and silent.

“What say you to the lady, Mauley?” The Duke of Argyll unfurled to his impressive height. “Hmm?”

The urge to slap the swaggering prig’s face burned hot; she curled her fingers hard into her palm.

“You owe him nothing, Malric,” Addien said, her voice somehow strong; the imploring hand she lifted for Malric proved far less stable.

Coming here had been a mistake. Desperation alone had driven her into the fold of men who carried a blood vengeance against Malric for his name and name alone.

Malric remained carved in granite. “No,” he said quietly. “I owe Argyll nothing.” Finally, he moved his gaze back to Addien. “As for you, Miss Killoran—”

She tensed, bracing for his rejection, and she would deserve every last lash he’d hand her.

He opened his mouth.

Addien couldn’t have him say it. “I know ,” she said, her voice catching. “I have wronged you.”

Malric stared flatly at her.

She lay herself bare and humbled herself before him.

“I did come here because I can’t work with you anymore, Malric,” she rasped.

“Working beside you, seeing you daily a-and not truly having you the way I want you would destroy me in ways I will not survive.” A tear trickled down her cheek, dampening her face.

Impassive, Malric trailed those slow-sliding drops.

A diverted Argyll collected his flute and motioned with it for Addien to continue. “Do go on, dearest Addien—”

Addien and Malric spoke as one.

“Do not call me—”

“Call her by her bloody name again and it’ll be the last word you ever utter in your depraved life.”

The possessive flint in Malric’s eyes together with the lethal threat couched in his tones stirred hope within her heart.

Malric swung his commander’s gaze back to Addien. “Let me speak, Addien,” he harshly demanded.

Addien gave a tight shake of her head. “I need to finish this.”

“I’d rather you not,” he gritted out. “I would be lying to you if I did not say some part of me wanted to hurt you as you hurt me.”

A frisson appeared in the hard set of his features, the first crack in his composure.

She’d hurt him.

More tears fell. “For that, I will never forgive myself, Malric.” Addien took steps to shorten the gap between them and distance the space between her and the dryly amused duke.

“I do not want any more of this from you, Addien,” he said sharply.

Addien went on, ignoring his demands. “But it was wrong because I had no right to try and hurt you. It is not your fault you do not love m-me—”

His eyes blazed. “Stop!”

“As I love you,” she finished.

Collecting the champagne bottle, the duke beside them poured himself another and baldly watched.

They ignored him.

“Not another bloody word of your apologies, Addien,” he bit out.

Addien dipped her head. “I deserved that.”

“You deserve a whole host of things, all of them from me, Addien, but a self-lashing is not one of them.”

Blinking slowly, she picked her gaze up enough to meet his.

The force of emotion blazing from his eyes stole her breath.

“What I’d intended to say before you went on a lengthy diatribe against yourself…” A dark frown formed on his lips. “You will not do that ever again, Addien. Do you hear me?”

Dizzy with confusion, she managed a cross between a nod and a shake.

“As I was saying,” he repeated, his baritone husked with emotion.

“I owe Argyll nothing .” Malric moved closer, his gaze fixed on her.

“As for you, Miss Killoran,” he said with a gentleness that threatened to shatter her in different ways, “I owe you everything, Addien.”

Her heart climbed.

“I owe you an apology,” he said.

An apology.

Her heart fluttered painfully back to its regular place inside her chest.

“You do not owe me an apolo—”

“In God’s name, Addien,” he gritted out, “will you please let me speak?”

Wide-eyed, she nodded.

“You’re really rubbish at this,” Argyll observed lazily from his comfortable seat. “It is a wonder she didn’t fall to my charms.”

“Shut your bloody—” Malric stopped. His eyes blazed with the promise of death; he looked briefly at the duke and then at Addien. “You didn’t.”

“Fall for this one?” Indignant, Addien folded her arms before her. “Did ye really believe I’d fall for a fancy fellow like Argyll? Silk don’t make the man. I thought you of all men knew that.”

“I beg your pardon?” Argyll said with a frown.

“No, you are correct.” The first stirrings of a smile played with Malric’s hard mouth. “It does not.”

“This man in silk is, however, clever enough to know. Say what you like about me, Thornwick. What I do know is if you’re spending more time insulting me than charming the lady, you’re making a rather poor show of it.”

That gave Malric pause.

Argyll nudged his head between Malric and Addien. “I believe you were telling the lady everything you owe her?”

Addien’s lips twitched, as for the first time since their introduction that morning, she had a glimpse of why women supposedly swooned when the dashing Duke of Argyll walked into a room. It wouldn’t ever be Addien, but she saw his way now.

Malric grimaced. “Perhaps ‘owe you’ is not the correct word choice.” He met Addien nearer the table and stopped.

“I do owe you an apology for being such an unmitigated bastard, for failing to see that which was right in front of me. In truth…” Malric fisted and unfurled his hands at his side.

He let them fall open. “I could not bring myself to see because I was so damned terrified of you, of what I felt for you.”