Chapter 2 #3
“Sum-positive. So, if I kill someone, I have to spare two people. And in business, I have to help more than I harm. I have to give slightly more than I take. This will be part of the curse’s demands, not tied to any other business we may have together.”
His voice was velvet skies pierced with singing stars. Everything desirable and wicked.
“How can I trust you?” I couldn’t. Obviously. But did it matter at this point?
He smiled the most dangerous smile then said with his velvety voice, “You’re in Wonderland.
I make it a point to be more or less honorable here.
It makes business run much more smoothly if people aren’t too nervous when they visit.
Well? May I return your blood to your leg, remove the traces of it from the city, and heal your injuries? ”
He was still kneeling there, almost like he was proposing marriage. That thought was hilarious.
“Yes, thank you,” I said with a shaky smile that I wanted to be professional.
His answering smile wasn’t professional at all. He snapped his fingers, and then, with a lurch, my leg was smooth, the pricks in my face were healed, and my blood was completely gone. Even my hand felt better than ever.
He stood and gestured to the bench, his hand out, like he wanted me to take it. “Excellent. Won’t you have a seat, my dear? We can discuss business more comfortably.”
Was this really happening? When was the sky going to fall? When would he show his fangs and go for my throat? I blinked at him as I slowly lowered my hand into his and let him lead me to the bench he’d been lounging on, like he’d been waiting for me.
I sat on the smooth marble and set the cake box beside me before I gripped the edge of the bench with my fingers. He pulled a deck of cards out of his jacket then, with a flick of his wrist, the cards flew around in a whirl then reformed into a chair.
He lounged back on the face-cards chair, propping his feet in their slick black leather boots on the bench next to my cake box, and nodded at me. “You may proceed.”
I blinked at him. There was no way cards could hold his weight, but apparently, they didn’t know that. “Proceed?”
He gave me the slightest smile. “Did you not have some business you wished to discuss with me? Perhaps you’d like to see your father first.” He snapped his fingers, and an image appeared between us: my father in a cage above a crowd of people at different gaming tables.
There were other cages, but they had dancers inside them.
My dad didn’t dance, just glared, with rage and pain in his eyes that I’d never seen there before.
He was dressed in feathers from the waist down, painted over his chest and arms, hair braided and pulled back in rows.
I stared at that face. How fierce and mean he looked. I’d never seen him like that. He looked like he’d bite the faces off all the goblins who’d attacked me. Or at least try. He was in danger of losing the person my mother had loved. That would be worse than death, to lose who he’d been.
I half-rose and glared at the devil. “You should’ve let him come to the funeral!
” Then he wouldn’t look like a stranger.
And why did the devil have to humiliate him by dressing him so ridiculously?
My dad wore a button-down shirt and dark pants.
Always kept his hair as neat as his nails.
But this person wasn’t the father I knew, and it was all the devil’s fault.
He steepled his elegant fingers. “He was the collateral for the funeral. That’s the deal he made, and he was grateful that I made it considering how much he already owes me.
” He cleared his throat and waved a hand, vanishing the image of my father.
“Enough talk of money and debt. How can I help you?”
I glared at him. He had all the cards. Literally, because he was sitting on a chair made of them.
And the worst thing was how incredibly gorgeous he was and how he had absolutely no shame about what he did, what he was.
Sum-positive? And who calculated that? “How can you help me? You can release my father.”
He raised a brow. “Will that really help you? Where will you go? Even if I were to forgive his debts, where would that leave you? No, Miss…” He raised a brow. “How rude of me to proceed without introductions.” He gave me a slight bow. “I’m Philius Gray, and you are?”
I rolled my eyes and bared my capped teeth at him. “You know exactly who I am.”
His grin was unbearably charming. “Do I? How can you be sure if you don’t give me your name?” His eyes glittered, and I gripped the bench tighter.
“I’m not giving you anything.”
He laughed, throwing his head back then giving me the sweetest, most delighted smile.
“Very well. Then I’ll be on my way. I’m sure there’s some tedious business I need to take care of in the castle.
Enjoy my garden as long as you like.” He started to rise, and I grabbed his sleeve, the jacket’s fabric like cobwebs and stardust in my fingers.
“Wait! I’m Kesty Charles. That is, Charles is my father’s name, and I use it for a surname.” I swallowed hard while my heart tried to climb up my throat. “I’d like to make a deal with you.”