Page 111 of Goldflame

After crossing the office, I grab her by the throat, feeling the frantic beat of her pulse beneath my fingers. Valentine and my mother don’t flinch, their years with Lucian have trained them well, but one of the guards by the door takes an involuntary step back.

He’s new and clearly terrified.

Bianca shrieks as I pin her against the wall.

“What the fuck is this? You come in making demands, insulting what’s mine.”

She struggles to breathe as her face reddens, but she manages a defiant glare. “You… you haven’t… asked who she’s… with.”

“I already know who. Lorenzo.” My grip tightens.

She shakes her head, and something in her eyes makes me release her. She gasps for air then meets my gaze with a raw intensity.

“She’s with your brother.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

JULIAN

The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of our living room hammers against my skull. Each second stretches into eternity as I wait for my mother to return. Bianca’s words replay in my mind like a skipping record.

She’s with your brother.

Impossible. Adrian’s dead. I saw his body. Saw the life drain from his eyes. Saw the blood—so much fucking blood—pooling beneath him on the carpet.

Unless I didn’t.

Valentine stands by the window, his posture rigid as a statue. The shadows carve deep lines into his face, aging him decades in minutes. He hasn’t moved since Mother led Bianca away, saying she needed to “handle this delicately.” His stillness unnerves me; Valentine is never still unless something is truly fucked.

“You knew,” I say, the words slicing through the silence. Not a question. A certainty that blooms in mychest like a poisonous flower. He’s the one who took Adrian away and insisted I stay away from him.

Valentine’s jaw ticks, the only sign that he heard me. His gaze remains fixed on some distant point beyond the glass.

“Did you fucking know?” I snarl, rising from the couch. The room sways slightly, my vision blurring at the edges from the whiskey I’ve been downing since we left the office. “If you fucking knew, I won’t hesitate to kill?—”

Mother glides in, her face set in that careful mask she wears when delivering bad news. The one that saysI’m trying to protect you from something terrible.

“Leave us,” she says to Valentine, her voice gentle but firm.

Valentine hesitates—actually fucking hesitates—his eyes darting from Mother to me and back again. It’s so unlike him that cold dread seeps into my bones.

The fucker knows something.

“Did she stutter?” I snap, anger replacing fear because it’s easier. Always easier. “Get the fuck out.”

He straightens. “Of course.” As he passes Mother, they lock eyes, and then he’s gone, the soft click of the door deafening in his wake.

“Where’s Bianca?” I demand. “I want to hear more about this bullshit?—”

“She’s in the guest suite,” Mother interrupts, moving to the bar cart. Ice clinks against crystal as she pours two drinks. “She’s quite shaken. You were rather… intense with her.”

I flinch, remembering my hand around herdelicate throat. Not my finest moment, but can anyone blame me? My dead brother is suddenly alive, and the woman I love—the woman I sold like a fucking piece of furniture—is with him?

Mother hands me a glass. “Drink. You need it.”

I grab the glass but set it on a table. “I don’t need another drink. I need to know if it’s true.”

She settles into an armchair as I continue standing. Her expression is controlled, but there’s a tremor in her fingers as she lifts her own glass. “Yes. Adrian’s alive.”

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