Page 13 of Cashmere Ruin

“That’s still Ms. Flowers to you.”

He makes a winding gesture with his free hand, as if amending his words. “Ms. Flowers, then. Nevertheless, you’re a very lucky woman.”

“She’s a very smart girl.”

He gives a slow hum. “Like her mother, perhaps.”

Smart or not, I’m not stupid enough to miss the blatant threat.Do as I say, and I just might let you live.“You still aren’t talking,” I point out.

“My apologies. Let me start over,” he clears his throat. “My name is Carmine.”

I notice he pronounces it asCar-mee-neh.It’s not a common name, not by a long shot; I’m unsure how you’d even spell it.

But then, as if reading my thoughts, he adds, “Ah, but I know that’s a little bit tricky to say for you Americans. Feel free to call me ‘Carmine,’ like the color. I always did like red, after all.”

I don’t give a rat’s ass what you like, motherfucker.

“Charmed,” I deadpan.

For the first time since we met, I let myself take in his appearance: tall, reasonably built, with salt-and-pepper hair and a swanky black suit. His eyes are coffee-dark, pupils nearly invisible, and his hands are filled with rings of the gaudiest gold-and-gemstone variety. He practically smells like money.

And danger, a part of me adds.

It’s so weird. This man couldn’t be more different than Matvey: the way he speaks, the way he acts—it all screamsslimeball.

And yet, something also feels familiar.

But before I can put my finger on what, Carmine speaks again.

“You can’t outrun Matvey forever, you know. Sooner or later, he’s going to catch up to you. And then who knows what will happen?” he says casually. “It pains my heart to think about it.”

“Maybe it’s a coronary,” I suggest.

He gives a warm laugh. “Such a spitfire. I get what Matvey saw in you.”

“You know nothing about Matvey,” I snap.

He sends me a look then—something briefly cold. Like the icy prick of an unexpected raindrop. “Oh, but Ido.”

The moment passes. When he speaks to me next, he’s jovial again, as if nothing happened at all. But I know I didn’t imagine it—the chill down my spine is proof.

“Anyway,” he continues, “you can’t think too highly of him. I mean, you’re on the run, aren’t you? Surely you’re not dying to see him again. You must know what he does to his enemies.”

I’ve never once doubted that Matvey would never hurt me. Ever since I got to know him, truly know him, I understood: however sharp his fangs may be, he would never turn them on me.

But Carmine’s words are sinking deeper than I’d like. Without even realizing it, I’ve already started to feel it: fear.

Stop it,I scold myself.It’s not Matvey you’re scared of.

That’s when it dawns on me: he’s doing it again. Playing mind games, leading me in circles. It’s how he got me last time.

I can’t let it happen again.

“And what would you suggest?” I ask.

“That we join forces to destroy him.”

I almost let myself get carried away again. Almost hurl at him all the choice words crowding my head.

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