Page 15 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)
L eila stared at the bank draft with an unseeing gaze when a man entered her sitting room without ceremony.
He had a straight, aristocratic nose, lance-straight posture, and dark hair that fell to his shoulders in perfectly groomed waves. His parchment-white skin was unblemished, save for a tiny scar that traced a thin white line along his neck and disappeared behind his ear.
He carefully removed his gloves and tossed them onto the table beside Leila, revealing pale, soft, impeccably maintained hands. These were not the hands of a man who engaged in manual labor; they belonged to someone accustomed to commanding others to do his bidding.
“I saw the Kensingtons’ carriage here,” he said without preamble, his voice cultured and smooth. “What did they want?”
“It was the duchess. She gave me a bank draft for my charitable endeavors.” She tried to keep the disgust from her voice as she said the last two words.
She wasn’t sure she succeeded, but her companion didn’t seem to notice or care.
She handed him the bank draft, her fingers barely brushing his as she did so.
He examined the document, his brow furrowing. “She’s worth hundreds of thousands. She could have been more generous.”
“She patronizes the orphanage and a women’s shelter. She’s giving more than enough,” Leila replied, though she wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to defend Caroline’s generosity.
“Yes, but not for our purposes.” His tone was dismissive. “You’d better make sure to collect much more than this.”
“I’m already doing a lot.”
“And I’ve yet to see the fruits of your labor.” His voice took on a sharp edge that made Leila’s skin crawl. “Explain. What’s the holdup with Wolverstone?”
Leila straightened her shoulders. “He’s the leader of The Shadows—a dangerous secret society by your own admission. He’s not some naive chap. He’s very careful.”
“Well, I know that,” the man said with an air of condescension. “That’s precisely why your particular skill set had to be employed.”
Ah yes. Her particular skill set. She was supposed to seduce him. “And still, it’s not an easy job. Even for me.”
“Make it easy.” The words were clipped. “Seduce the damn duke and murder him in his sleep.” He paused, then added with almost playful cruelty, “Or do it in the midst of tupping. At least give the man one last moment of bliss.”
Leila recoiled at his casual suggestion, horrified at how comfortable he felt commanding what she did with her body. Not that she was surprised.
“I tried to,” she confessed. “But I failed. I’ve tried a few different approaches and failed every time. I can’t keep showing up at his house or seeking him out without making him suspicious—if he isn’t already.”
“Do. Better.” The words were calm. Even. Yet more terrifying than if he had shouted.
Leila swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.
“If I keep appearing at social events alone, people will start becoming suspicious. I am certain some already are, including the duke.”
“What are you trying to say?”
A note of irritation tainted his voice, and Leila flinched instinctively. She let out a steadying breath, willing her voice not to tremble.
“I am saying that I will have to alter my approach. I have an idea how to do that. I want to set a trap for him instead.”
He raised a brow, curiosity playing across his features. “How so?”
“He’s hunting down your business associates—you said so yourself. If you give me a list of people he’s targeting, I can—”
“No.” His voice was so sharp it seemed to cut through the very air in the room.
“But if I knew—”
“I said. No.”
She swallowed again and bit her lower lip in a nervous gesture.
For a moment, he stood perfectly still, his entire body tense, a terrifying expression crossing his face as if he were ready to pounce and tear her throat out with his teeth.
The transformation was so sudden that Leila froze in place, her hackles raised.
Then, just as quickly, the moment passed. He relaxed his posture and adjusted his cufflinks.
“Very well. I shall leave you to it. You know how to reach me if anything changes.”
He picked up his gloves, almost brushing her shoulder as he did so. Almost. But he was close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off his body, a warmth that sent a chill down her spine.
She could smell his scent—tobacco and horses. It should not have been unpleasant, but it twisted her stomach into knots.
He turned and walked toward the door, whistling a cheery tune.
Leila stood. She couldn’t let him leave just like that.
“When can I see Em—?”
He rounded on her so quickly that she stumbled backward, his finger raised in the air. His mask of nonchalance slipped completely, revealing the beast beneath.
“Stop!” His voice cracked like a whip. “I already told you. Not until your job is done.”
“But—”
“No buts, darling.” His voice softened to an almost gentle croon, which somehow made it more menacing. “We have a deal, do we not? This is your last mission. Finish it, and then you both will be free.”
Leila clenched her jaw so tightly she could hear her teeth grinding. Somehow, she didn’t believe he would honor the deal.
She took two measured breaths before trusting herself to speak without shaking. “Yes, sir.”
His face split into a warm, friendly smile—the kind of expression that might make a stranger believe he was the kindest man in the world.
If she didn’t know the monster beneath that charm, she might have been fooled too.
“Good girl.” That phrase made her shudder and her teeth grind in revulsion.
He spun on his heel and stalked away, locking the door behind him.
Leila stood for a long moment, staring at the door.
She tried to take deep, calming breaths, but they came in short, unsatisfying gasps. She placed a hand over her chest, trying to regulate her breathing.
Unsuccessful, she rushed to the window—desperate for fresh air—and yanked at the latch.
It didn’t budge.
Right.
In her panic, she’d completely forgotten.
Her gaze fell to the window frame.
It was nailed shut.