Chapter 16 #2
I slid the glass over toward him with more force than I’d intended, frothing champagne onto the counter.
He made a face. “On second thought, I’ll have a scotch,” he said. His smile faltered at the look on my face as he reached for a bottle from behind the bar.
I shot him a look that clearly said I couldn’t care less.
Red-hot rage roiled over me, heating my cheeks and threatening to simmer over.
Why was I so angry with him? Hadn’t I asked him to interrogate Bryce?
Hadn’t I given him permission to use whatever talents he possessed?
Maybe it was because I hadn’t truly expected him to use his wiles quite so effectively to seduce the information out of her.
“Well?” I ground out. “Did all that flirting get us anywhere, or have you wasted both of our time?”
Casimir’s smirk faltered. “Is something the matter, Farrow?”
The serene tone with which he asked the question finally pushed my temper over the edge.
I scowled over at him. “When I told you to use your abilities to get information, I didn’t mean you had to make yourself so—”
“Charming?” he suggested.
“Libertine,” I corrected.
“Ah,” he drawled, smirking into his glass.
I didn’t like the way his lips curved up at the edges, or the knowing glint in his eye that meant he’d guessed why his behavior bothered me so much.
Mercifully, Casimir redirected the conversation. “I don’t think Bryce knows anything about the Keeper, but I did find out where her family keeps their jewels.”
“Did you even bother to glamour her, or were you too busy seducing her for information about that stupid necklace?”
His brows disappeared beneath his dark curls. “Might I remind you, it was your idea to get information by any means necessary.” He reached behind the counter for a bottle of whiskey.
“And?” I pressed. “Did you?”
Casimir paused mid-motion to study me with a penetrating look. “You do realize I don’t enjoy violating innocent people’s minds? I avoid it when I can help it.” Suddenly, he leaned in closer, and I drew in a sharp breath. “That girl would’ve told me anything I wanted to hear.”
I suppressed a shudder at the underlying threat in his tone.
“But yes, Farrow, I took advantage of the opportunity to rifle through her mind, for all the good it did.” Seeing my frown, he explained, “She doesn’t know anything about the Keeper’s Heir or the Order. Her family isn’t involved, at least, as far as she’s aware.”
I deflated slightly.
“You know,” he added, “you’re not the only person who can tell when someone’s lying to them.”
“And just so you know, not everyone is so easily won over by your charms,” I shot back.
Amusement flared in his eyes as he tossed back his drink.
“Ah, now I see. You’re jealous.” He appeared positively delighted by this revelation.
My mouth fell open. “I am not!” My cheeks flamed with heat. “You’re just so arrogant and conceited that you assume everyone’s in love with you.”
He shook his head and sighed. “It’s sad, really.”
“Excuse me?”
He clicked his tongue and continued, “It’s sad that tasting other people’s lies hasn’t made you better at telling them yourself.” And then he raised his glass to me before draining it.
“What—You—” I was so outraged that I was momentarily robbed of the power of speech. When at last I regained my composure, I said firmly, “I wasn’t lying. I do think you’re arrogant. And I’m not jealous.”
His lips had already curved into a self-satisfied smile.
“Perhaps,” he shrugged. “But you don’t find me entirely charmless.
” Before I could argue, he went on, “I only mean that I understand most people. In all their predictable, tragic, messiness. It’s what makes them so human.
For example, take Bryce Yu-Ri. She wears her desires on her sleeve.
It’s obvious to any moderately observant bystander.
Most people are like her, and unfortunately for them, it means they’re easily glamoured by someone like me.
” He regarded me from beneath his dark lashes.
“Even without the use of my powers, though I know how you love to accuse me of abusing them.”
I settled for shooting him a dirty look, still too irritated to trust myself to utter a civil response.
“You, on the other hand—” he grimaced “—are difficult to read. Even harder to predict.”
I blinked in surprise. “What are you talking about? You can hijack my mind and access my memories at your whim!”
“I don’t mean that you hide your emotions—quite the opposite,” he mused.
“But your motivations—your reasons for doing things—are entirely foreign to me. And just because I can infiltrate your mind, doesn’t mean that I understand its inner workings.
Let’s just say I find you…intriguing, to say the least.” He laughed quietly, the low sound of it snaking over my skin.
“Maybe surprising is a better word for it.”
Our gazes collided over the bar, and the noise of the party faded into the background.
“What about me surprises you?” I asked. I’d intentionally omitted the other adjective he’d used to describe me. The idea that Casimir Wrayburn found me intriguing was, well… a bit terrifying.
“I find it astonishing that you were willing to risk your safety to protect the life of August Sinclair, despite the fact that he put you through hell—”
I winced. “You don’t know August like I do.
He isn’t all bad.” I thought back to the agonizing weeks that followed my father’s death, how August had proved to be one of the only people I could open up to.
Despite August’s flaws, he was there for me when it mattered.
Even after our relationship ended, he’d stopped Devereaux from poisoning me and even risked earning Devereaux’s wrath to warn me about Casimir.
Casimir’s voice was soft when he next spoke. “Why do you feel like it’s your job to save August? Do you feel like you… owe him, or something?”
I cringed as though he’d slapped me. This was the second time Casimir had probed into my motivations for helping August. But he hadn’t been there when everything went to shit, when my father died and I didn’t eat or leave my room for days on end.
How could I explain that I was sick? That losing someone only made me love them more?
On some level, I knew I was using August as a convenient shield to maintain a healthy distance from Casimir.
I simply couldn’t afford another romantic catastrophe.
“No, I just… He was there for me when my father died. It’s just—” I swallowed hard. “I don’t want him to be dead. I suppose you think I’m pathetic?” I loosed a hollow laugh.
Casimir only shook his head. “I think Sinclair never deserved you.”
To that, I had no reply.
The heat that fanned across my cheeks had nothing to do with the alcohol I’d drunk, and for the first time, I caught myself wondering what Casimir’s lies would taste like. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his, as starless as an ocean, always luring me into their stygian depths.
At that moment, one of the revelers cackled, their laughter ringing high into the rafters, and the spell broke.
“It’s nearly time,” Casimir announced. A glint of danger, mingled with excitement, flashed in his eyes as he set down his glass. “Are you coming?”
I stared at him in bewilderment. “Time for what?”
“Our heist,” he stated, eyebrows raised as if this was obvious.
I hesitated, conscious of our proximity in the already heated room. I had little desire to get caught stealing jewels from Bryce’s manor. “Why do you need this necklace so badly that you’re willing to get caught?”
The arrogant smile returned to his lips. “Trust me, Farrow. I have no plans to get caught.”
I shuddered to imagine the gossip following such a scandal.
He shot me a cryptic glance. “Maybe I haven’t corrupted you thoroughly enough.”
Something in my lower abdomen pulsed at the implication. He turned to me again, his eyes resting on my third glass of champagne. A droll smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched me down the glass.
“Enough stalling, Farrow. Let’s go. I might need to use you as a distraction.”
“This is a very bad idea, and I hate you for involving me,” I retorted, and promptly drowned the lie in champagne.
Heists weren’t my usual cheap thrills, but something about the prospect of following Casimir into this adventure was—admittedly—intriguing. Casimir’s face twisted, a smile threatening to encroach upon his lips.
“Like I said, Farrow, I don’t need extraordinary abilities to know when someone is lying.” He smirked. “Come on.” He gestured for me to accompany him.
Reluctantly, I followed Casimir as he snaked his way through the throng of drunken dancers toward a small door under the staircase.
I balked. “No way I’m going down there!”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he scolded. “Bryce let slip that her family jewels are kept in a safe in the basement. Come on, hurry up.”
As it turned out, the cobweb-infested staircase led to a damp wine cellar, at the back of which sat an unassuming green safe with a silver dial. The thrum of music and voices was audible even down here.
I glanced around nervously. “What if someone catches us down here?”
“Then I’ll come up with a cover story,” he replied smoothly, leaning down to inspect the safe.
“Casimir,” I whined, “what are you doing?”
He didn’t reply, but continued to spin the dial experimentally.
“What, are you going to glamour it open?” I teased.
“No,” he said patiently, pressing an ear to the safe. “I’m listening for when the tumblers align.”
“What does that—” I began, but Casimir shushed me.
I grumbled mutinously. My neck was hurting from constantly glancing toward the top of the stairs to make sure no one was coming.
Suddenly, there was a click and the door to the safe swung open.
I whirled around in surprise. Wait—he’d actually managed to open it? Without thinking, I knelt down beside him to peer into the safe and gasped at what I saw.