Page 124 of Savannah Royals
“Please.” He reaches for my gloved hand. My left hand. “Don’t insult me, Kat. I’m no simp.”
I glance down at my ring finger, then do a quick scan of our surroundings. There are too many people around, so I grab his arm and pull him into an empty sitting room.
“Relax, Mrs. DaMolin. I’m not going to spill the beans,” Ethan assures me. “But it wasn’t hard to figure out. My brother’s been grinning like an idiot all night. I’m happy for you both. Does anyone know?”
“No. He only asked a few hours ago.”
He smiles. “I knew he would. Everyone else here should know too, honestly. The DaMolin rubies don’t come out of the vault very often. And they’re only worn by the women we choose.”
“What if it’s not a woman you want to choose,” I whisper, eyes full of significance.
A flicker of pain crosses Ethan’s face, and I reach for him.
“Ethan,” I begin, “about earlier today…with Harry—”
“Don’t, Kat.” He pulls back. “Whatever you think you’ve seen, whatever you think you understand, I’m asking you to forget. Because you can’t possibly evenbeginto understand. Not ever. I am the firstborn son of the DaMolin publishing dynasty. There are rules.”
“Hang the rules! You don’t have to stay here, Ethan, in a world that keeps you locked in a rigid little box. There are places you can go, out there, where you can be anonymous and live your own life. Any kind of life you choose.”
He shakes his head. “There’s no way I would abandon my family, Katarina. I’m going to do the job I was raised to do, and I’m going to do it damn well. It will have to be enough.”
“And if it’s not?” I tilt my head. “If it’s not enough, Ethan?”
“It will be. My family writes headlines, we don’t feature in them. I don’t plan on repeating history.”
“It just doesn’t seem fair—”
“Life isn’t fair, Kat,” Ethan replies. “Don’t let your miraculous ascent from the Catacombs allow you to forget that. It’s one of the things I like best about you. Please don’t lose that when you marry into this family, into this world. Be my ally, myfriend, from the inside. God knows, we can use some forward thinkers in here to freshen up the place.”
I nod, my heart tight in my throat.
“I’m glad you’re here, Kat. I’m glad Matthew found you. He’s lucky in a way not all of us can even dream to be. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need another drink.” He tips his empty glass. “A stiff one.”
With that, he takes his leave. I shake the conversation from my mind and push deeper into the club until I arrive at the powder room.
I slip inside and twist the lock. Then I reach behind my neck to work the clasp on the DaMolin rubies. I sigh quietly with relief when it gives, releasing the weight from my neck. I drop the necklace into my right pocket, exchanging it for the forgery.
As I secure the Trojan horse around my neck, I gaze into the gilded mirror. A doe-eyed beauty with flushed cheeks in a black gown stares back at me. I look closely, trying to find the girl from the Catacombs who Ethan just referenced, but I’m not sure I can. She’s there and gone in mere heartbeats. There in a flash of resolve in my eyes as I straighten my spine, gone when a genteel smile rises on my lips. There in the steadiness of my fingers as I fan out the counterfeit necklace, gone when I reach for the door.
When I rejoin Matthew on the dance floor, my face is smooth, demeanor unruffled. As we revolve and spin, my eyes flick around the room, this way and that until I spot him. He’s leaning sideways, casual and comfortable, in a doorway to the clubhouse. His eyes are locked on me, watching as I dance in Matthew’s arms beneath the stars.
When Paul sees me looking, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out his silver cigarette lighter. He thumbs it twice, then drops it back into his pocket. I give him the barest of nods, recognizing the signal, but I don’t rush; I linger with Matthew for another song. Only when the band pauses for a break do I extricate myself.
“I told Constance Pulitzer I would make a few rounds with her. Do you mind?”
“Really?” Matt steps back and scans the room, presumably looking for her. “Shall I join you?”
“No, of course not. It’ll be shoptalk with the other gals. You’d be terribly bored. I’m sure I won’t be long, just five or ten minutes.”
“Okay.” He looks quizzically at me but gets distracted when he spies a small cluster of gentlemen, Daniel included, waving him to the sidelines of the dance floor.
“Go on.” I shove him toward his friends. “I’ll be right back, and I’ll come find you.”
When I’m confident he’s sufficiently sidetracked, I look back to the doorway where I saw Paul. As soon as our eyes meet, he fades backward into the club, melting away. I take a deep breath and follow, moving at a leisurely stroll. When I reach the entrance to the clubhouse, I do a quick sweep for nearby security officials but find none. Paul chose his moment well.
Once inside, my stride lengthens. The crowd is thin here, but there are still bystanders. I know Paul well enough to know exactly where he’ll go to avoid them. I move deeper into the labyrinth of the clubhouse, down a heavily paneled corridor with rows of closed doors. At the end of the hall, I turn left and pass through an open doorway, giving a cursory glance over my shoulder to ensure I wasn’t followed. My cape slithers on the marble floor behind me.
The hallway dead-ends in a sitting room. There are bookshelves and a fireplace along one wall. Silhouetted against the windows at the opposite end stands Paul. I walk toward him, stepping through rays of moonbeams. It’s dark in here, but I can still see his sharp eyes. His arms are crossed tightly, muscles on edge.
