Chapter Thirteen #3
Perhaps not, Mavis thought, running through the list of her past fiancés, most of whom tended to look right through her. Unbidden, a memory came to her—a dark room, Arden’s mouth trailing kisses along her jaw as he slid a ring onto her finger. Emerald, for your eyes.
Leif groaned. “Please tell me we didn’t waste all that money on a new wardrobe for nothing.”
“Not necessarily,” Arden said before Mavis could respond. “He might not be repelled by your fashion sense firsthand, but other people will, and once Thaddeus realizes the prize jewel he won isn’t as coveted as he thought, he’ll question whether he wants it at all.”
Though Mavis resented being referred to as someone’s prize, she knew Arden was right—that was exactly the way Thaddeus thought of her.
“You seem to understand Thaddeus Mayles quite well,” Rafe drawled. “Perhaps you might be able to help Mavis as she helps you with Oriana.”
“I don’t need help,” Mavis snapped. “Every con is a matter of trial and error—it’s just that you two aren’t usually peering over my shoulder while I work.”
For a moment, they fell silent, but finally Leif leaned toward Arden. “She gets a bit peevish when she’s hungry,” he muttered under his breath.
Mavis shot him a glare. “I heard that.”
“Of course you know what you’re doing, Magpie.” Rafe patted her shoulder. “Though it is difficult to take you seriously when you look like a carrot that got massacred in a doily factory.”
This time, all three men burst into laughter, but Mavis’s indignation ebbed. They could make fun of her dress all they liked, so long as they weren’t doubting her.
By the time the second starting pistol shot rang out, the beach near the finish line was crowded with more familiar faces as the Lusters joined the fray, and they did so as extravagantly as Lusters seemed to do everything else.
From their vantage point on the bluff, Mavis watched through a pair of binoculars as the Ballan family arrived—two parents, three children, and half a dozen servants who carried a brocade blanket that had no business being outdoors and silk pillows to sit on.
Not to be outdone, the Tsus came with a table and chairs that their servants set up beneath a wide silk umbrella that surely blotted out the view of anyone unfortunate enough to be sitting behind them.
Even the families who kept things simple brought baskets filled with finer fare than sandwiches and lemonade—Mavis spied tins of caviar being spread over crackers, half-shell oysters served over ice, and waffle cones topped with brightly colored balls of ice cream.
“I hope you don’t expect me to fan you,” Leif said dryly, nodding toward where the Ulstead family was set up on their blanket, Mariana Ulstead lounging against a pile of tasseled pillows, sipping champagne while a servant fluttered a paddle fan in her direction.
“Let me see those?” Rafe held his hand out toward Mavis, and she passed the binoculars to him. He used them to sweep his gaze over the beach. “Money is wasted on the wealthy.”
Mavis glanced at Arden, but if he took offense at Rafe’s comment, he gave no sign.
She studied him as he stared out at the sea, his dark-blue eyes a world away.
She wondered what he was thinking—of the life he lost, of how he wished he was with the other Luster families instead of stuck with them, of Oriana and what she could give him.
More than that, though, she hungered to know if he was thinking about that afternoon at the modiste’s.
Gods of Old knew the memory was never far from her own mind.
A cheer went through the crowd, and Mavis looked out just in time to see a trio of boats tear into view. Unlike with the Lack race, there was no clear front-runner.
She quickly found Thaddeus and Oriana’s boat, recognizing the spray of water Thaddeus directed with his magic that let them practically fly over the water.
They were neck and neck with the Hoxha family, who used their weather magic to drive the wind in their favor.
Trailing just barely behind them were the Prindles, who used their ice magic to freeze the water directly in front of them, allowing their boat to slide over on the blades fitted to the bottom like an oversize ice skate.
Thaddeus and Oriana won by a hair, and Mavis put on a show of cheering obnoxiously enough to draw more than a few eyes away from Thaddeus and toward her—much to his displeasure, she hoped.
When the excitement began to die down, she smoothed out the skirt of her dress and fixed a wide smile onto her face.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go congratulate my fiancé—with an embarrassing lack of decorum in front of all his friends and those reporters, who, with any luck, will let the display overshadow his win. ”
Mere moments after Mavis left, Rafe and Leif took their leave as well.
“Thaddeus is going to be unbearable when he wins,” Rafe said as he gathered up the empty picnic basket, leaving the blanket. “I’d rather swallow sand than watch him gloat.”
“The Lacks might beat him,” Arden pointed out, though he didn’t need Rafe’s derisive snort to tell him that was a slim possibility. “What about Mavis?”
Leif shrugged. “She’s perfectly capable of handling herself—prefers it, really.”
“She has a job to do,” Rafe added. “As she said herself, we’ll only get in the way. You’d best not get in her way either, Ryskamp.”
Arden frowned, but before he could respond to the warning, Rafe and Leif were already walking away, trudging back up the shore toward the hotel.
When they were gone, Arden used the discarded binoculars to watch as Thaddeus, Oriana, and the other winners posed for the photographers and shook the mayor’s hand.
Mavis clung to Thaddeus like a barnacle, fussing with his hair and, at one point, making a show of wiping the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief, much to Thaddeus’s vexation.
Arden dropped the binoculars and looked away, staring out at the open sea, but he couldn’t get Rafe’s comment out of his mind—you’d best not get in her way either, Ryskamp.
The entire conversation Mavis had with the brothers had made him uncomfortable, but it wasn’t until that comment that he understood why.
When he confronted her in Montenari’s, he’d assumed she must be working for someone, but now he wondered if it was Rafe and Leif who were forcing her to work cons for them.
It hardly seemed fair—she was the one taking the most risk, doing the most work.
What if Mavis had never had a choice in this life at all?
A few moments passed before the Luster winners left the beach, no doubt making their way across the island to prepare for the final race, and Mavis made her way back up the bluff toward him.
“Oriana asked where you were.” She collapsed on the blanket beside him with a huff. “She wanted to thank you for the good luck charm.”
Arden gave a noncommittal grunt, and Mavis turned toward him, eyebrows arched high. “What’s the matter with you? I do hope Rafe didn’t threaten you while I was gone.”
His frown deepened, something ugly and tight taking residence in his chest. “Did he threaten you?”
Mavis blinked in surprise before she burst into laughter so strong tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “Rafe? Why on earth would Rafe threaten me?”
Arden clenched his jaw. “I’ve been trying to figure out why you’re doing this. I already guessed that you’re working for someone else.”
“And you thought that someone else was Rafe?” she asked, a fresh bout of laughter taking hold.
“Is it Leif, then?” he pressed. “Are they forcing you to do this?”
That sapped her laughter, and she let out a sigh, shaking her head. “You’ve got it all wrong—we’re partners, just like I told you. They don’t make me do anything. As to why I do this . . . a girl’s got to eat, Arden.”
Arden scowled. “Don’t give me that. I don’t believe that anyone would choose to do what you do. There must be something else at play.”
She looked at him then, and if Arden thought her cold and distant before, she was carved from pure ice now, and despite the oppressive heat in the air, Arden suddenly felt chilled to the bone.
“You want a sob story to make you feel better? Something to humanize me and make me pitiable instead of the ruthless villain who breaks hearts out of greed?”
Arden considered his answer carefully, aware that he had crossed over into dangerous terrain without a map. “I have a hard time imagining this is the life you imagined for yourself when you were young.”