Page 21 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

Unlike Mrs. Hill, Leila hadn’t witnessed much love in her life. The only true love she’d experienced was for Emir. What she felt for Gideon was… lust. It was a pure physical need. She liked him, yes, but she also feared him. She didn’t trust him. With those emotions in the mix, it couldn’t be love.

He didn’t trust her either, hence the predicament she found herself in.

In another life, if their circumstances had been different, perhaps whatever they felt for each other could have blossomed into love.

But not here. Not now.

Not in this life.

The sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway interrupted her thoughts. Mrs. Hill immediately straightened and smoothed her skirts.

“He’s returned,” she whispered. “Please, miss, give him a chance. Give yourself a chance. Just tell him the truth. Ask him for help. You will see the true Duke of Wolverstone.”

When the footsteps stopped outside the door, Mrs. Hill quickly curtsied and scurried away.

Perhaps the housekeeper was right. If she told him the whole truth, maybe he would help her instead of hurting her. Perhaps they could be allies instead of enemies.

What other option did she have? Well, there was one other option, but she’d tried it numerous times and failed. Perhaps it was time to try a different approach.

The door opened, and the Duke of Wolverstone stepped inside, his gray eyes immediately finding hers.

He closed the door with deliberate slowness and leaned against it, his imposing frame blocking any hope of escape. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed in the silence.

“I know you’ve been lying to me,” he said, his voice low and measured.

Leila’s heart hammered against her ribs. What exactly did he find out? She forced herself to remain still, her face a mask of composure even as panic clawed at her throat. She kept silent, waiting.

He pushed himself away from the door and began to pace, the thick Persian carpet swallowing the sounds of his steps.

“I went to the place you’ve been staying and found a few interesting things.

” Each word was carefully enunciated, as if he were presenting evidence in a courtroom.

“Your husband is not there. The windows are nailed shut. The house is being watched.”

Is that all? Leila waited for him to continue outlining everything he’d learned.

The pause stretched between them like a taut wire. She could hear her own breathing, too loud in the stillness. Her wrists ached from the restraints, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the dread building in her chest.

“Tell me who you are,” he said finally, stopping his pacing to face her directly.

Was that all? Had he found her poison vials? Her mind churned, trying to come up with an explanation for their existence. If he realized she had tried to kill him, her life would be over.

His jaw tightened at her silence. “What is your real name? Are you even from Smyrna?”

That was a question she could answer. “I am,” she said quietly.

He cocked his head slightly, and she caught a flash of surprise in his silver eyes. He had expected her to remain silent, she realized.

“Where’s your husband?” he pressed, moving closer to the bed.

She swallowed hard; her throat felt suddenly dry. “I don’t have one.”

Was it relief that flickered across his features? It was so quick she almost missed it. Was she imagining it? The possibility that he might actually care about her marital status sent a flutter through her stomach.

Perhaps Mrs. Hill was right—he had developed deeper feelings for her than she’d realized. Could she use this to her advantage?

“So everything you told me is a lie,” he said, though his tone had lost some of its edge.

“Not everything,” she replied. “And don’t act as though I’m the one trying to deceive you when you are a murderer.”

His expression hardened again. “Well, I have reasons for my actions.”

“What reason justifies taking another human’s life?

” The question escaped before she could stop it.

She wasn’t being hypocritical by asking this, she told herself firmly.

She knew her own reasons for taking a life, but she wanted to know his.

She wanted to determine whether she would be safe with him or if she would become his next victim.

“Killing another human being,” he replied without hesitation.

No, she wasn’t safe. Her pulse quickened, and she felt the familiar cold grip of fear.

“What you’re saying is that others would be justified in killing you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

To her surprise, he nodded gravely. “Very much. And they have tried. Instead, they killed my family.”

There was pain in his voice. What had Mrs. Hill said? That his wife had died fifteen years ago. She hadn’t just died; she was killed. “Who’s they?”

“The Brotherhood of the Crimson Fist.”

Leila frowned, genuinely puzzled. “What does this mean?”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face intently. “I think you know.”

“I really don’t.” Why would he think she knew about some brotherhood?

“Don’t tell me you’re not following their orders,” he said, his voice gaining intensity as he stepped closer to the bed.

“How can I follow their orders if I don’t even know who they are?” Frustration crept into her voice. What was he talking about?

“They are a society of evil, murderous people,” he said, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“And Norfolk was one of them?”

“Yes. And I think you are, too.”

“You’re mistaken.” The word ‘Brotherhood’ echoed in her mind. She hadn’t heard the name before, but she wouldn’t, would she? However, a society of evil, murderous people—that summed up the people she worked for pretty well.

Could it be? Could she be one of them without even knowing? The thought was terrifying. She couldn’t entertain it, not now. If Gideon found out her thoughts, he would kill her on the spot.

“Then what in the hell were you doing with this?” He dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a vial of poison she had meticulously crafted specifically for him.

Leila raised her brows, pretending to be completely unfazed, though if he could hear her heartbeat, he would realize the turmoil she truly felt. “The lip balm?”

“Is that what it is? Because it smells exactly like something you put on your lips the night I fell ill. The night we kissed.”

Leila swallowed. “If you had an adverse reaction to my balm, it’s not my fault.”

He regarded her with narrowed eyes. He didn’t trust her, and he had every reason not to. But she couldn’t reveal the full truth of who she was, or she would be in more danger than she was already in.

“Then who are you?” He moved closer, looming over the bed, his presence overwhelming. “How did you get to England? Why are you here?”

Leila took a shaky breath. The truth—or part of it—was her only option.

“I am here to do the bidding of powerful men. I was told to infiltrate society and steal money from the rich.” There.

She was not going to pretend to be innocent.

But if she weren’t a murderer, he wouldn’t deem her worthy of killing, right?

“How?” His voice was impassive.

“They set up fake charities, and I make unwitting do-gooders donate money for my causes. Except all the funds go to these men.”

His expression shifted, disgust replacing suspicion. “The orphanage you were talking about—it doesn’t exist?”

“Oh, it exists, but the money never reaches them. It’s a scheme.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth.

“So you’re a fraudster,” he said flatly.

Better than a murderess, she supposed. “I have no choice.”

“Making money the honest way never crossed your mind?” There was something almost mocking in his tone that ignited her temper.

“You don’t understand,” she said, straining against her restraints in agitation.

“I’m not working for those men of my own free will.

They have my little brother.” Her voice cracked.

She decided to lay all her cards on the table and pray that Mrs. Hill was right—that mentioning an innocent boy in peril would compel Gideon to help her.

“They’re holding him hostage, and if I don’t do what they ask, they will…

” She swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.

“Let’s just say what they would do to him would be worse than death. ”

His expression changed immediately, the coldness melting into something that might have been sympathy. “And you’re saying these men aren’t part of the Brotherhood?”

“I don’t know what this Brotherhood of the Scarlet Palm is—”

“Crimson Fist.”

“What?” she asked irritably.

“It’s the Brotherhood of the Crimson Fist—not—never mind.”

“Whatever they are called, they don’t refer to themselves that way in front of me. So I don’t know if we’re talking about the same group. They keep everything close to their chests, but I know enough.”

“For example?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I know who their leader is—they call him the Cardinal.”

He went completely still. “The Cardinal is what they call the leader of the Brotherhood.”

She froze as well. So it was true. She was working for the same men Gideon swore to eradicate—the people who killed his family.

She shouldn’t have been surprised, and she wasn’t.

But she was desperate. He might not be as forgiving or helpful if he thought she had been doing their bidding for over a decade.

“I didn’t know that. They don’t tell me things.

I’m not a member of their group; I’m a prisoner, just like I am here.

I was young and vulnerable, with no recourse against powerful men when they found me.

I’m as much a victim as the people they make me rob.

Even more so, because their losses are only monetary, while I’m losing my soul little by little each time.

And I’ve been doing this for over a decade. ”

“For over a decade, you were unable to escape them?”

“You saw the house. I’m under constant watch. My windows are nailed shut, so I can’t leave without them knowing. When I do go out, it’s only with their approval, their escort, and under their orders.”

“You’re not under their watch now,” he pointed out.

“Yes, well, I’m not in much better condition, wouldn’t you say?” She tugged at the restraints.

“That’s not my point.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, causing the mattress to dip. “If I could take you away without them noticing, you could have escaped if you really wanted to.”

“And gone where?” Her voice rose with desperation. “Do you think I have any funds? Do you think I have any friends? I’m all alone in this world. The only other person I have is my little brother, and they’re keeping him from me. If I leave, his fate will be worse than mine.”

“I’ve seen the house,” he said slowly. “There’s no one living there aside from you and the servants.”

“Those aren’t just servants; they are my watchmen.

I am under constant watch by dozens of guards, but they know I won’t escape without him.

Emir—my brother—doesn’t live with me. They keep us apart for the very reason you just mentioned: we could run away together.

I see him often; he visits me when I’m not on an assignment.

But that’s how they keep me focused. He is always guarded and lives under the Cardinal’s roof.

He receives an education and he is not to be touched.

Once he turns fifteen, which is soon, I was promised that we could go free, although I don’t believe they would honor that promise.

” Actually, they promised to let him go free once this mission was over—once Wolverstone was eliminated. But she omitted that part.

The truth was, she wished she could get her brother away from the influence of these men as soon as possible.

She believed the only reason they even spared him was that he was a boy. He could become one of them once he was grown. Or perhaps he could be of use to them in other ways. Whatever they wanted with him couldn’t be good. She needed to get him out.

Gideon was quiet for a long moment, processing this information. Then he stood and began pacing again, his movements restless. She watched him, trying to read his expression, but his face had become unreadable.

Finally, he stopped and looked up at her. “If you’re telling the truth—”

“I am,” she interrupted fiercely.

“Then I can help you save him. I can save him and free you from the brotherhood.”

Was he serious, or was this another trick? She had encountered many men who used this very tactic before, offering help only to extract something in return while ignoring their part of the deal.

Could she trust him? That was the main question. Or should she rely only on herself?

“Do you know where he is held?” he asked.

She shook her head instinctively, then stopped mid-shake. “No, but I might have an idea.” An idea was starting to form in her mind—raw, fresh, and not fully fleshed out, but perhaps…

“If I save him,” he said, his voice steady and sure, “then you know you can trust me, and you will tell me everything you know about the Cardinal, yes?”

Leila met his gaze, searching for any sign of deception. All she saw was determination and something that might have been hope.

“You will help me kill the Cardinal,” he continued. “Can you do that?”

Leila nodded cautiously. “I can.”