Page 54 of The Devil's Daughter

I wince. “Okay, I can see I need to tread carefully around him. If I don’t survive, at least I’ll know I died with honor and the love of a good woman.”

“Celeste didn’t seem worried when I told her what was going on,” she says with a dismissive shrug, then turns back to her work.

Baz slams his laptop shut and stares at her. “Youtold Celeste? Do you actually want us dead? Because this is how we die.”

“She’s my sister!” Elle snaps. “And there’s a sister code. She won’t say a thing.”

Baz’s nostrils flare and he glares daggers at her, but she doesn’t flinch.

“Is that actually a thing?” I ask. “I was an only child, so the whole sibling dynamic is foreign to me.”

Baz reluctantly nods. “It’s a thing for me and Ben, at least. And I know for a fact Celeste has known some of Toni’s secrets all along, and never said anything to either our parents or hers. But the old man justknowssome things. I don’t think it’ll be that easy to hide.”

“Then we’ll be honest,” I say. “Just enough of the truth is probably better than lying. We don’t need him to know we’re all sharing a bed though. Just that there are real feelings involved, and that we’re even more invested in keeping Elle safe because of those feelings.”

It sounds reasonable, at least, and does the job of defusing the stand-off between the two of them, but it does nothing to settle the churning anxiety in my gut.

No—anxietyis too benign a word. Pure and utter terror is what I’m actually feeling. Fear that Flores will decide I’m no longer worthy of watching over his youngest offspring, and that I’m disposable.

It’s a longshot that he’d have me killed, or at least that’s what I tell myself. Typhon’s an asset to him, especially now that he knows we share the same principles. He and my father hadn’t done business in a decade, but he started using our company to move his black-market antiquities again after Dad died. I might have even gone so far as to say we’re friends, but now I’m not quite confident enough in that relationship to know for certain he wouldn’t inflict serious pain on me if he knew even half of the things I’d done with Elle.

“I need to go let Chef know we’re having a dinner guest,” I say, and leave Elle and Baz to their work.

27

Ben

“You didwhat?”I can’t believe my ears when Elle explains what happened while I was away. I’m in a tuxedo, being checked over by the tailor to make sure everything fits right. It does. Though I’m in danger of popping a button and hulking out over this news.

Baz looks ill. Drake’s nowhere to be seen. I thought we’d have at least another day before we had to face our former boss—Elle’s father.

“It’ll be okay,” she argues. “I bet he’s not even as scary as you two make him out to be.”

“Elle, you don’t know the man the way we do. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.”

“But he’s also calculating and ruthless, and isn’t known for knee-jerk reactions. He always makes sure he’s well informed before he takes action. Not to mention, he’s making this trip to helpDrake, not to check up on me.”

“You don’t think that’s on his mind too? We didn’t call him the minute something was wrong.”

“Because you don’t answer to him anymore,” she says. “And the cameras were about Drake, not me.”

I sigh. “We’ve been over this. Everything we do is about your safety, Elle. Flores knows as well as we do. He’sgoingto punish us somehow, and once he actually sees us together, chances are it’ll be worse than it would’ve been if all we’d done is neglect to fill him in on your status.”

She stubbornly clenches her jaw as I shed the tuxedo and hand it back to the tailor. He carefully bags up all four outfits and hangs them on a curtain rod. I thank them both as they begin packing up to have Duffy shuttle them back to the mainland.

I need a shower and a change of clothes if I’m going to face Papá Flores for dinner, but Elle has dug her heels in and as much as I hate it, I know I won’t have any peace until I agree with her.

The thing is, I’ve always loved pushing her buttons, getting her riled up just to see that wildness flare to the surface. I must be a fucking masochist to keep doing it now and I’m on the verge of saying something dumb when my twin catches me.

“She gets it, brother. In her own way, she gets it. I think Drake had the right idea when he suggested we don’t bother trying to hide it. Maybe he’ll go easier on us if he’s aware of how we feel.”

I’m skeptical, but I give in with a nod anyway, then join the pair of them as we head to our separate rooms to privately freak out while we get ready for dinner.

A little later, I’m pacing the lounge in dress pants and a button-down dress shirt, trying to be chill while we wait for Flores to arrive. Baz sits on the leather sofa, staring blankly at his phone. Drake finally showed his face and poured us all drinks, but remains seated at the bar, staring out at the water without drinking. I took a sip, but my stomach’s too turbulent right now, and I really want a clear head for tonight.

Elle appears a few minutes later in a flowery blue cocktail dress I haven’t seen before. It’s a far more conservative outfit than I usually see her in—very tailored and proper—and her hair and makeup are perfect. But her eyes are wide, and for the first time, it hits me that she might actually be scared too.

“Ooh, let me have some of that,” she says, striding toward me and plucking the untouched Scotch from my hand to take a swallow. Her eyes water a little, and she lets out a soft belch as she hands the glass back.

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