Page 153 of A Sin So Pure

“The key to the safe?” he whispers.

I nod, confidence steeling the movement. “It’s officially yours.”

“But—wait—you can’t give this to me yet.”

“Why not?” I ask, a sad smile spreading between my cheeks.

“Because I’m not—you’re still?—”

“No, Leo,” I say. “You’re in charge now. When we get back home, you are the keeper of the secrets. You own the key to the safe.”

Leo gawks at the thing in his lap.

“Thesafe?” Nora asks, curious.

“You guys aren’t stupid enough to keep the shit you blackmail Royals with in an actual, physical safe,” Josie says, equal parts disbelief and concern falling over her features. “Right?”

Leo and I share a conspiratorial look.

“Right—” Leo says.

“Of course not. It’s a metaphorical key.”

“Right…” Josie drawls, seeing right through our terrible cover.

Nora squeezes my hand, pulling my attention back down to her.

“Imogen, what does giving him that key mean?” she asks tentatively, though by her serious gaze, I can tell she’s already putting together the pieces.

Leo makes an outraged squeak. “You didn’t tell her yet?”

“Mo…” Josie groans.

I wince, my lips curling over my teeth. “I meant to. But then I figured it would be easier to rip the bandage off like this.”

“You’re passing your title on to Leo?”

“Yeah,” I say. I don’t try to sugar coat it.

“Why?” Nora says, confusion marring her features.

I turn to Josie and Leo. “Do you guys mind if we end the morning now? Meet in the hall for the ball later?”

Josie and Leo are quick to gather their things. Josie gives me a small hug before leaving, whispering another thank you in my ear. Leo kisses my cheek, grumbling a sternwe’re talking about this lateras he holds up the key, but there’s no real bite behind the words.

He can’t fight me on this. I made my decision.

And then it’s the two of us, alone again.

Nora pulls me into her lap, both arms curling around, soft and warm. Her chin rests on my head and my ear presses against her chest; her heartbeat thumps in my ear, a beat off from mine, as if we’re two different music tracks pressed into the same record. It’s a confusing cacophony.

“Explain, please,” she says.

“I’m tired of danger, Nora.”

She sighs but doesn’t say anything more. We breathe together, sharing a still moment as she processes the new reality that I’ve thrust upon her.

I break the silence.

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