Page 66 of Greed: The Savage
Malric gave her a questioning look.
“You asked what matters to me. You talked about honor and reputation. For me, loyalty is the only code worth living by.” Filled with self-disgust, Addien shook her head. “It was easier when I hated you, Malric,” she spat. “But you’ve pulled me out of the muck enough times now. If you can’t see you’ve got my loyalty, that I’m not looking to cross you at every turn, then your judgment’s worse than I thought.”
Her voice, fierce and unguarded, stripped her bare. Addien dropped her gaze, shot to her feet, and slipped past him. That he could think so low of her—she’d sooner put a knife to her own throat than let him see how it stung.
With a sleekness no man of his size ought to possess, Malric stepped into her path. He did not lay a hand upon her—no seizing of her wrist, no claiming of her arm. She knew why. For all his power, he was a gentleman, and mindful she had been handled roughly this day. He would not startle her.
“I have offended you.”
Addien lifted her chin. “Do you mean that as a question?”
His gaze held hers. Slowly, he touched his right fist to his chest and inclined his head. The gesture—simple, solemn—spoke more than any words might have done. He let his arm fall to his side.
“I served the Home Office,” he said, his tone low. “I was adept at my work.”
She didn’t have a shred of doubt.
“My brother worked for a man at the Home Office. As I understand it, in part regard for his employer and in part aspirations, my brother put an end to the gentleman’s days as an assassin.”
“How?”
“I’m unclear of the details, only that my brother ensured the man was marked. One cannot take on those covert duties when one’s”—Malric motioned alongside his cheek— “face has been laid open by a blade.”
A gentleman with half his face scarred, who’d served in the Home Office…
Everyone knew the tale. At least, that was everyone at war with the rival gaming hells throughout London.
Addien knew before Malric spoke it aloud.
“Lord Severin Cadogan.”
Addien tensed. “Of Forbidden Pleasures,” she spat.
Malric inclined his head. “The very same.”
Her mind spun.
Lachlan Latimer, second only to Dynevor, and only because Dynevor rescued Addien, proved as good, just, and loyal a man as she’d ever known. As such, she, along with all the other staff, guards, and servants in the Devil’s Den, were brought in when Lachlan Latimer was made partner.
The Duke of Argyll and the Marquess of Rutherford forced the street-born Latimer out in favor of Lord Severin Cadogan.
And the Devil’s Den embraced Latimer as one of their own.
Addien whistled. “That’s a story.”
“It is something,” he muttered.
Malric didn’t say anything else.
She frowned. “Not sure why that has anything to do with you, Malric?”
“In society, the actions of one’s family has everything to do with a man’s person.” Never more had he the look or sound ofthe duke he’d one day be than he did while explaining that to someone of another ilk. “My brother’s actions ended my career. His shame belongs to the family.”
Addien snorted. “Well, that’s a load of shite. Leave it to the nobility to not even let a single man stand guilty for the crimes he is guilty of.”
Malric went still.
A laugh burst from him with a suddenness and fierceness that left them both startled.
