Page 89 of Beautiful Sinners

Aleksander makes a thoughtful hum. “I thought I was seeing a ghost last night. Our sister has been a very naughty girl. Faking her own death. I wonder what could have driven her to do such a drastic thing?”

Aleksander loves to talk in nuances, leaving behind tiny breadcrumbs for the listener to catch, like his quip about Dierdre right after I asked about Gabriel.

Turning attention off our sister, I say, “I want to speak to Francesco.”

“You’ll see him at the gala this weekend when he names me as the new head of the Council.”

He looks so pleased with himself. What a fucking douche. That was his grand design? All the shit he’s pulled and the people he’s hurt was just to get Francesco to acknowledge him and push me out of the way? The juvenile, petty jealousy rolling off him stinks up the room.

“I’d still like to speak with him.Now.”

“His phone privileges have been revoked. Besides, you know there’s no cell reception in the catacombs.”

Aleksander places his phone on the coffee table and spins it a hundred and eighty degrees, showing me a live feed on his screen of my father pacing a small room that I recognize immediately. It’s one of the cells the Society uses to detain people. My eyes briefly alight on the figure standing in the corner. Malin. I only get a glimpse before Aleksander blacks out the screen, but it’s enough.

“Where’s Helena?”

“Enjoying better accommodations.” Aleksander has been staring at me the entire time, his gun-metal gaze never wavering. “Did Aoife tell you that she wants her father’s seat at the Council? I think it’s a fantastic idea, don’t you?”

His round-and-round is giving me a damn headache.

“You went to a lot of trouble to take over the Council. You expect me to believe that you’d really give up that position so easily?” I counter and watch his reaction.

Flicking imaginary lint from his dress slacks, he drapes a casual arm over the back of the couch, looking nonplussed.

“I’d do it for her. Would you?” he challenges.

My knuckles pop when I flex my fists. “I’d die for her.”

Aleksander emits a sharp boom of laughter. “I can’t wait for her to find out what a lying sack of shit you are.” Rising from the couch, he cuts the distance between us. “I promised Aoife I wouldn’t lay a hand on you or Knight or Ferreria, so here’s my proposition. Why don’t we let her decide at the gala? If Aoife wants me gone, I’ll go. If she wants to burn the entire organization to the ground, I’ll be the first to light the match.”

That imagery hits too close to home with Aoife’s scars, and I’m sure Aleksander used the metaphor deliberately.

I don’t believe a word that has spewed out of his lying mouth. But I’ll play along only because it serves my purposes. He’s actually making it easy for me. Him, my father, Malin, Patrick, and Gabriel all in one place, under the same roof, vulnerable and unsuspecting.

What had Aleksander said to me? Oh yeah, “I did warn you that you had no idea what was coming for you.”

Endgame, motherfucker.

“Agreed,” I reply.

He holds out a burly hand, waiting for me to shake on it. I don’t.

Hopping on the elevator, I punch the ground floor button. “Stay away from Aoife. She doesn’t need you fucking with her head. She’s been through enough.”

That stupid grin returns. “What if she can’t stay away from me?”

The doors thankfully shut, and I take out my phone to text the guys.

Me: Still nothing?

Con: No. Checking her friend’s dorm, the girl from her calc class.

Hen: Just left the Bierkeller. Shelby wasn’t working, so I’m going to check out her place. No sign of our girl at the fucktwins?

Me: She was gone by the time I got there. Had an interesting conversation with Aleksander. Will fill you in later. Heading to the house.

Aoife, where are you?

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