Page 50 of The Mourning Throne
Lex put down the fork, leaning in. His voice dropped to a whisper. “You’ve got to be screwing with me.”
“I am not.”
“They still—they still have that kinda thing? Isn’t thatreally fucking illegal,Morgan?”
Telling Lex this… perhaps it wasn’t the smartest decision. His tone hadn’t changed, but something bubbled beneath the surface. Morgan could feel it. A pull behind Lex’s voice, sharper than curiosity. He should’ve stopped.
But Lex was no longer the little brother he had to keep his eye on. Not the wide-eyed creature begging for a place beside him. Last year, Lex couldn’t have been trusted. Their games had been simple. Controlled. Contained. Just them.
Now Lex was clever and restless. Too sharp to be handed scraps and told they were a feast.
“Morgan,” Lex hissed, even quieter. “Don’t do that. Answer me.”
Case in point.
Setting the knife down, Morgan blotted the sides of his mouth.
“I never used the word slave.You did that all on your own.”
“Sowhat kindof auctions?”
“The kind where people become food.”
Lex’s mouth stayed open. A grain of rice clung to his bottom lip, but he didn’t notice. His face didn’t move. Then he sat back, blue eyes narrowing until they turned to slits.
“You’d like it,” Morgan said after a moment, when the quiet turned sour. He cut into the steak again.
“People—”
“The show.”
“They like…” Lex trailed off, fingers drumming against the table. “Jesus, I lost my train of thought. You’ve been to them?”
“Many times. Last September was the most recent one. I haven’t had a chance to get away since then.”
“It was the night I moved in, wasn’t it?” Lex said, and then answered himself. “Holy shit, that gives a whole new meaning toI’ll get food while I’m out.”
The laugh that came out of Lex was breathy, thin. Too manic for Morgan’s liking.
“Did Kate know?”
“Of course she did. Her family set it up.” Morgan finished the food, folding his napkin in his lap. “You jump to conclusions so often, it’s easier to agree with you than explain.”
Lex leaned back, arms crossed so tight his shirt looked seconds away from ripping at the seams. “And you withhold half the damn conversation. I have to make it up as I go so I don’t losemygoddamn mind. Explain.”
“When you think ‘mob,’ what’s the first thing that pops up in your head? Old gangster movies from the 1970’s and 80’s?”
“Uh,Goodfellas.”
Morgan couldn’t recall which one that was. He didn’t care enough to ask.
“The Sterlings aren’t like the movies. No cigars and razors. No messy street wars.”
Lex tapped his foot against the table, eyebrows raised. Waiting.
“They don’t flaunt power. They inherit it. Old money. Think private schools and marble foyers. Their bloodline’s soclean, you could drink from it. Some do. I think that’s Kate’s biggest concern. Being gifted to a different buyer that she doesn’t know.”
“Anyway,” Morgan reached for the wine.
