Page 116 of Underground Prince

“I thought…” I quieted when we entered a room on the left and drew nearer to Rada. “I thought you didn’t want me to be a part of this anymore.”

His fingers clenched on my back. “I don’t.”

Theo’s touch left me all too soon, until he led me to a long velvet chaise and ran his fingers down my arm as a guide to sit next to him.

The room was furnished with cherry wood walls, exactly like the drawing room, but this had large oil paintings reminiscent of the Renaissance era adorning every side, with a wide, glittering chandelier dangling over us. An empty chaise identical to the one we sat on was across from us, with two smokers’ chairs—Rada taking one—capping either end and a gold-plated, glass coffee table at the center.

“Drink, Scarlet?” Rada asked.

“No. Thank you.” I was rather confused with this turn of events, and rattling ice in a glass due to nerves didn’t seem a great way to participate.

She drank from her goblet. “You used to be brunette.”

Rada’s observation startled both Theo and me, as the liquid in his glass sloshed after the question. I raised a hand to my hair. “Yes. I was.”

“You should change it back. It would bring out your color more. Your natural beauty.”

My hand drifted back to my lap and I stanched any memory that threatened to surface.

“Interesting,” she murmured, and I was conscious of every move, every fidget I made. “It was not vanity that made you want to transform.” Theo cleared his throat, and Rada, albeit reluctantly, returned his attention. “I suppose we should get down to business. We are keeping Scarlet from her earnings.” A smile pulled at her lips, a subtle lilt much the same as her voice. I wondered if she also started where I was and made her name not through her family, but on her own steam.

“The shipment’s been scheduled,” Theo said.

Shocked, I flicked my attention between the two of them.

“Indeed,” she replied, ignoring my reaction, but not out of rudeness. She’d arched, her body language indicating command, and her tone showed it. “It was in our verbal contract that Tracey confirm the initial dealings with me, and not to insult, but I wasn’t expecting you. The first transfer requires the best man. Is there a problem I should be made aware of?”

“Not at all,” Theo said, seemingly unaffected by the soft censure of her words. “I volunteered for this position. Both my father and Trace are aware, and condone, the change.”

“You what?” I said to him.

“I see.” She lifted her goblet of wine to her lips. “To what do I owe your enthusiasm?”

Though everything about Theo seemed unconcerned, he was not sitting back into the cushions. Nor was he acknowledging me, and worms of warning writhed under my skin.

“I’m to be inducted into Trace’s current position. He will be moving on to other avenues,” Theo said.

I gripped his forearm. “Theo, no.”

Rada studied me through lowered lashes, though she spoke only to Theo. “If that is what the Saxons wish. I assume Warren will be taking your position in the game rooms.”

“That is correct.”

He was leaving? Everything about tonight crashed together in my mind with perfect impact. Why Theo had me scheduled to serve here. Why he brought me into this room with him.

This would be the last time I’d see him. He’d make himself scarce—no, he was ingratiating himself further into his family’s crime ring, putting himself into categories that would become less and less redeemable. All to what? To get away from me?

I could not be that fucking important.

“Rada, would you excuse us for a moment?” My mind thrashed, my heart was near implosion, and my question came out steady and polite.

“Of course.” She slipped past us, saying, “Theodore, we have business yet to attend to.”

I waited for her to disappear out of the room, then swiveled to face him. “What in the actual fuck?”

He sipped his bourbon. “Problem?”

“You do not get to go all jackass on me now. I need an explanation.”

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