Page 13

“Well, I do declare, who would have thought?” I drag my fingers across Lady Genevieve’s mahogany desk. “Straitlaced Matthew DaMolin…breaking all kinds of rules?”

“Who said I’m straitlaced?” He pulls a crystal decanter from the bottom drawer, then plunks down two glass tumblers. “I got you down here with me, didn’t I?”

“You did,” I admit. I can only imagine the repercussions if we’re caught here, alone, but I shiver with pleasure at the illicit thrill.

Matthew pours two thimble-sized drinks, clinks his glass to mine, and throws back. My stomach clenches deliciously as his stubbled throat bobs, the whiskey sliding down in a single gulp. He places the empty tumbler down with a soft clink , his eyes lifting to mine.

I toss my own shot back. It burns as it glides down…burns so good. I lick my lips, then extend my glass for a refill. “Another.”

Matthew’s second pour is heftier than the first.

“M’lady,” he murmurs as he hands the glass over. There’s a wry, challenging smile in his eyes as I accept the drink.

“Careful, pretty boy.” I sit on the wooden desk. “You might find you’re punching beyond your weight.”

He looks at me sitting, casual and irreverent, on his mother’s desk. “I think I am. ”

I swing my tumbler, gesturing. “This is every fella’s fantasy, isn’t it?

Alone at night with a pretty girl in his mother’s office, sipping whiskey.

Wow—I’m such a cliché. Wait a minute, we’ve come full circle.

We’re back to Freud…and your Mommy and Daddy issues.

” I open my mouth and place a mock-shocked hand over it.

“You’re a real trip.” His eyes glitter as he takes a slow sip of whiskey.

I hold his gaze and take a deep pull of my own. “Clearly, you enjoy the ride.”

“I do,” he admits, walking over to stand between my legs.

He looks intently at me, his face inches from mine.

“You were right. It drives me absolutely crazy that I can’t figure you out.

I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth next.

” His gaze drops to my lips, his voice now a whisper. “Who are you?”

I swallow the rest of my drink before answering.

My sight lowers to a framed black-and-white photograph on the desk.

It’s a wedding portrait, Lady Genevieve and her husband.

The infamous DaMolin ruby necklace hangs around her neck in all its glory.

I forcibly withhold a whistle, my fingertips tingling. Itching.

When I raise my lashes, the question still hangs on Matthew’s lips, his eyes brimming with it.

“Is that your final question?” I ask. “Who am I?”

“That one is going to take months to riddle out. So no, it’s not the question tonight.”

“What is it then? You gave me my drink, so I’ll give you your answer.”

He’s quiet for a minute. In the dim light, his sapphire eyes are ablaze.

“Katarina…” he breathes. He tucks a lock of dark hair behind my ear. “Katarina, can I kiss you?”

My heart stutters at his vulnerability, but I’m disappointed. It’s the first time all night he’s disappointed me. I consider for a moment before answering .

“No,” I tell him, placing my empty glass on the desk.

“Why not?”

“Because you asked,” I reply. “If you want to kiss me, I expect you to just do it. I don’t want to be asked . I want to be kissed .”

“I come from a world where people ask first.”

“And I come from a world where people take .”

“I’m not going to take advantage of you, Katarina.” He shakes his head. “That’s not who I am.”

I shrug one shoulder, unmoved. “I guess that leaves us in a bit of a predicament.”

“You like games, don’t you?” He nods, understanding. “I like games too. Maybe we’ll play by your rules next time, but tonight we’re sticking to mine.”

And with that, he takes my hands and slides me off the desk.

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning we’re going to put the whiskey away, and I’m going to lock up this office, then I’ll walk you to the front staircase to say goodnight. Like a gentleman.”

I pout. “That doesn’t sound like a particularly fun game.”

“It’s not the one you’re used to, I’m sure.”

It most certainly is not. “Your game, your rules.”

He takes my hand again and pulls me out of the office, locking the door behind us. He keeps ahold of me until we reach the main staircase.

“Goodnight, Katarina.” He lifts my hand to kiss the knuckles. Prim and excruciatingly proper. “Sleep well.”

“Wait,” I call out as he turns to go. I feel supremely dissatisfied, and that’s very annoying, but now two of these Academy events have been a heck of a lot more fun since he’s been around. Against my better judgment, I swallow my pride. “Will you be at the annual picnic next weekend?”

“I usually am. My parents are the hosts. ”

Right. Very smooth, Kat.

“But I may have to work this year.” He watches me closely. “My older brother, Ethan, will certainly be there though, and he’s still a bachelor. A charming officer, fresh from the ranks of the Great War. You needn’t worry. The trifecta will stay intact.”

I smile, amused by his quick wit.

“Besides, Ethan is a much better catch than me—a war hero set to inherit the family publishing empire.” Matthew’s smile is self-deprecating. “I’m sure the sharks will be out in full force.”

“Is that really how you see us? Sharks?”

“Yes. You are most definitely a shark.”

“Moi?” I place a hand to my breastbone in playful astonishment.

“Yes, you. Don’t act surprised.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment. Goodnight, Matthew.”

“You should. Goodnight, Katarina.”

A shark. Hmm…I mull it over as I traipse upstairs alone. That’s certainly a new one.

And then it hits me clear in the face. Sharks are scavengers and carnivores, just like wolves.

Maybe Matthew DaMolin really does have me all figured out.

When I reach my bedroom, I’m confronted with a new problem. A quite pressing problem that somehow took a backseat to drinking whiskey tonight with Matthew.

Melinda is inside our room, already asleep—thank goodness—but I need to contact the Royals to tell them about Harry. We need to move on Astor Manor tomorrow .

I go to the window and quietly open it, peering into the darkness.

Usually after evening events at the Academy, Abe waits in Forsyth Park in case I have any inside tips to pass along.

But it’s late tonight—much later than usual—and there’s a very good chance Abe has already returned to the bayou.

I can hardly expect him to wait around all night while I’m busy drinking whiskey in glorified closets with cute rich boys.

Which, by the way, never happens.

I swing a leg over the windowsill, then push off the wall, flying down to earth instead of climbing.

I land nimbly on my toes with bent knees, gold heels slamming with a clack on the cobblestones.

I exhale in a huff and point my feet in the direction of the tiny arboretum that marks our rendezvous point. The park looks deserted.

There’s nothing for it, I realize. I’ll either have to find a running streetcar or hoof it all the way to the bayou on foot. I groan, bracing myself for yet another long night, when I see the slightest rustling at the edge of the trees ahead. My breath catches.

A dark silhouette steps forward, just enough for moonlight to flash across his face.

“Abe!” I fly into his arms, hard and fast. He grunts at the impact. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“Hi, Kat,” he rumbles.

“I can’t believe you’re still here. Thank god.” I release him and step back.

“Where have you been?” He sticks his hands in his pockets as though it doesn’t matter, but I can tell he’s a little miffed.

“I was with someone,” I say slowly. “I’m really sorry.”

“How was your night? You look grand.”

I swallow my guilt about Matthew. “It was good—I have hot news. Harry Astor is going to be out tomorrow. All night.”

“Tomorrow?” Abe’s face falls. “That barely gives us any time to prepare. ”

“But, Abe, it’s perfect.” I rush to explain. “It’s a Thursday night, which means the food delivery folks will be there, and Lady Astor will be alone in the house. Harry will be at a stag party on Jekyll Island.”

“Hold your horses, Kat. A stag party? Who in tarnation has a stag party on a Thursday?”

I wave the question away. “Unemployed rich boys, that’s who.”

“Are you sure you heard correctly?”

“Yes. Daniel Dufour and Harry Astor talked about it. They said…” I try to remember exactly.

“They said it’s an impromptu stag party for Johnnie Rockefeller, they’re opening the clubhouse early, and airing out one of the cottages on the island for an overnight.

I was standing right there when Harry said it.

Right beside him. He was inviting Matthew, and—”

“Matthew DaMolin?” Abe raises an eyebrow.

“Yes,” I whisper, suddenly nervous.

“Is that who you were with tonight?”

“Not that it matters, but yes. He’s who I was with.”

“Paul told me you met him last week,” Abe offers. “He had me shadow him for a few days.”

“Oh my god, he didn’t.” I groan.

“He’s pretty boring.” Abe shrugs. “Just works a lot, down at the hospital. He’s either there or his apartment in the city.”

“Good to know.” It’s hard to keep annoyance out of my voice.

“Don’t be mad, Kat. You know how Paul is.”

I do know, always keeping his tabs. I wrap my arms around my ribs, because suddenly, I feel like crying.

Abe’s face softens. “You okay?”

I blink a few times. It came out of nowhere, but I’m overwhelmed. Rode hard and put up wet.

I’m exhausted from the insane schedule I’ve been pulling lately. I’m sexually frustrated from the abrupt end to my game with Matthew tonight. I’m emotionally drained from having to compartmentalize so many twisted relationships, clutching secrets to my chest like daggers.

I shouldn’t have to justify anything to anyone. Not who I’m seeing or what I’m doing. None of it.

And because that’s how I feel right now—impulsive and vulnerable and positively aching with need—I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips very forcefully to Abe’s. Trying to prove I can have whatever I want, whenever I want it.

“Kat, no.” He pulls away. “You’re upset about something. I don’t know what, but this is not the solution.”

“It could be a very good solution, actually.” I give him my best puppy-dog eyes.

“Cute, but I don’t think so.”

I drop my arms and step back, rejected and dejected all over again. It’s worse the second time around.

“Hey.” He tips my chin up with his hand. “What’s going on with you tonight?”

“Nothing.”

“Kat, you haven’t kissed me twice in the same week…ever. What happened on Saturday should tide us over for months. That’s just how we operate. You know I love you, but you’re head over heels for my best friend. He would cut off my dick if I—”

“I know. I’m sorry.” My voice cracks. “I’m just frustrated from my evening, and I’m projecting it on you. I’m sorry,” I repeat.

“ Sexually frustrated?” Abe cocks an eyebrow. Once again, he’s too quick for his own good. “From DaMolin?”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t say that. You did.”

“Are you telling me you made a pass at him tonight, and he said no ?” Abe laughs incredulously. “Wow, I must be losing my touch. I missed the fact he was queer during my two days of surveillance. ”

“He’s not queer,” I say. “He’s a gentleman. And I didn’t make a pass at him. Please.”

“Sure.” Abe smiles, and I don’t miss the lines of hidden laughter etched onto his face.

“Can we just drop it?”

“Works for me.” He’s still smiling. Presumptuous.

“Just tell Paul and Tony about the job. I’ll see you tomorrow.”