Page 13 of Unlawful Lies

“How long do I have to think about it?” I ask into the silence.

Edward huffs out a laugh. “I’d say the sooner you agree to let me help you, the better it will be for everyone.” His gaze hardens, and all hints of mirth disappear. “Nicola, you know your father’s reputation, and I’m sure there is much talk on the street that is not just conjecture. He’s a drunk, and he’s a gambler, and he’s made his living by stepping on other people’s toes. It’s made him rich, but how much longer can his luck hold out? Father won’t stop.”

I stay quiet because Edward is right, and there is no point in arguing about it.

“I’m sure he’s done some fucked up shit in his time, just as my father has. Just as I have.”

It’s like the door is open for me to step through and admit to the terrible things I’ve seen. I haven’t done enough. Nothing that will stand up against the black hearts of the men in my life, and right now, that includes Edward.

“What will he do? Giovanni?” I ask tentatively, drawing my fingers along the cottony soft bell of a foxglove blossom. “If he truly believes Arden stole from him?”

“You already know the answer to it.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Edward groans and slides a hand through his night-black hair. “He’ll make a statement, whether he’s right or wrong.”

“Obliteration.”

“Scorched earth,” Edward agrees. “Only you did not hear it from me.”

Of course not. If either monarch found out that kingdom secrets had been spilled, even something someone on the outside might coin as innocent, we were done.

“Let me use what I’ve learned for you this time. I am at your disposal.” He holds his arms out wide, and a sudden deep and irresistible urge makes me want to walk into them. To lean into the comfort and stability he’s offering.

Get close. By any means necessary. Those were the words I’d heard before the fist raised to make sure I understood, the period at the end of a horrifying sentence.

Damnit, Daddy.

“Fine,” I agree. “But you’re in trouble now. I expect a great deal out of your so called help.”

Edward arches a dark brow so high it disappears into the lock of hair across his forehead. “You’re serious.”

“I am.”

“Seems like a far cry from your earlier no, little fox. I’m not going to stop to question it, but I am going to make you shake on it.” He thrusts his hand between us, and I stare at it like it’s a snake ready to lunge at my throat. “On your honor.”

“My honor? Is that really what we’re questioning?” I force out a laugh and ignore the way I shiver looking at those fingers. Knowing exactly where they’d been and what they’d done.

“My honor, too. Let’s call this a step toward the peace those men in there are constantly touting and yet never manage to accomplish. We’ll be the change we want to see in this tiny world of ours. We’ll work together,” he finishes.

I slap my palm against Edward’s, and he squeezes my hand. Why does it feel like I’m signing away my soul to the devil himself? Willingly, too. “Then tell me where we’re going to start. Since you talk like you’re the man with the plan.”

“I’d say let’s start by searching your house for this painting. Or whatever else we come across.” He stumbles over his words at the immediate glower on my face at the suggestion that we’re starting here because my father is guilty. Why else? “I know your father didn’t do it, but at least that way, we can both say for certain. Father won’t question me if I back you up. He’ll trust my word.”

“You’re a jerk,” I growl out, tugging my hand back from his.

Only Edward refuses to let me go and grips me tighter to keep me in place. He slowly lifts my knuckles to his mouth and kisses one after the other. “I’ve never claimed to be anything else. Jerk is a compliment.”

How easy it would be to lean forward on my tiptoes and kiss him again. To taste the strength in those lips of his, to feel his tongue tangle with mine, and the way his hands are a brand on my body. He’s started to write himself on my skin in a way that no other man has before.

My inexperience will be the death of me.

The stolen moments over the years will have to count, the fumbling fool around of someone who knows their time is short. Several of the guards made great playthings. Even when I knew what would happen to them if we were caught.

And the one time I managed to sneak out with a friend, only to meet a boy. I’d been there for an hour before the guards found me and dragged me back to the house.

But in that hour, oh, that hour.

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