Proving myself and taking over Corvo would’ve been lovely, too—but there was no way to rewire what my father thought of me, not without bathing myself in my past victimhood, a tarpit from which I’djustgotten loose—and after encountering Freddie Sr tonight?
Fuck him.
Fuck my past.
And fuck Corvo.
Fuckeverybody—except the magnificent man who was in love with me.
I watched the clock tick down—I even danced with my father again—knowing it might be the last time we saw each other—and then I left at midnight, pulling a reverse Cinderella, practically running for the elevator lobby, because I already knew who my prince was.
The only problem was, someone was sitting there, waiting for me.
Marcus.
He glanced up when I arrived. “Miss Ferreo.”
“Mister St. Clair,” I said, with a head tilt, before looking around to make sure no one was watching us—that I wasn’t about to be punked.
“I bought a gift for you, for tonight,” he said, standing up. “Before last night,” he added, then gave a short laugh.
“I’m sorry you had to find out about your son’s drug use like that,” I said, without a hint of emotion: like I was repeating letters at a spelling bee. “I understand how painful it can be to have secrets exposed.”
He pulled something out of his pocket. It was a small velvet case. “Consider this a consolation prize, for the end of our engagement,” he said, opening it up to reveal a necklace with a large teardrop shaped emerald pendant inside. He picked it up and it swung out at me. “You should put it on.”
I frowned and backed up. “Red and green?” I said, flicking the line of my dress with a hand. “Too Christmasy.”
“Well—it’s yours,” he went on, settling it back in the box.
“I don’t want it,” I said, shaking my head. “And—I’ll have my engagement ring sent back to you tomorrow morning.”
“I insist,” he said, offering the velvet box again.
“And I don’t care,” I said. But then a burst of party attendees stumbled out, hitting the elevator buttons too.
“Just take the goddamned jewelry,” Marcus growled—and people were starting to look over.
I wanted to tell him to shove the box up his own ass—but I’d promised Trevia—and I could make it for another two hours, I was certain.
Now that I knew that everythinghadan end.
“Fine,” I snapped, grabbing it, and throwing it into my purse.
It didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered.
The elevator arrived. I got on with a crowd of other people, as Marcus stayed behind.
And just like that—I was free.
63
RHAIM
Ileft not long after Lia—the second after Nero called it a night—and caught a ride back to my apartment.
Pack light.
