Her father has been at this for the better part of three decades, and the fact that he’s still here, having never seen the inside of a cell, is fascinating.
“We’re not perfect, Carter. Yes, we’ve never been caught or found, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t come close.” She shrugs. “I think the worst was when we wereclaiminga Dubois painting a couple of years back. A small portrait called ‘Daydreams in G Minor’ of—”
“His wife playing the violin.” I finish the sentence, wide eyed. “I can’t believe that was you.”
“You heard of the heist.”
“Heard of it? Love, you stole it before I had a chance to buy it off of Grange.”
She bursts out laughing. A loud, full-belly cackle that shows zero remorse.
“Now that’s irony,” she says, snickering. “I heard he had a buyer, so I decided to move in before the transaction. Didn’t know it was you. Apologies, dear sir. Did you want it for yourself?”
“I’m a collector.” I nod, refusing to reveal more. Like my frustration over that painting.
“Oh, I know you are. Been to your place. Remember?” she teases.
And it works. I’m thoroughly teased and willing for more.
“It’s not fair, though,” she continues. “You know so much about me, yet you haven’t revealed anything about you.”
“Fair? Kitten, you should know plenty. You’ve been watching me for a while. Actually, for how long have you known it was me in the alley?”
“Pretty much since I saw you, but I confirmed it the next day. I knew already you were part of The Sanctum, but you’re certainly the only one who dresses dapper, and with such attention to detail. You weren’t hard to pinpoint.”
Fuck, it’s even worse than I thought. She’s known the entire time, and I’ve been thoroughly in the dark.
“Then you’ve had plenty of time to do your research,” I argue.
Scarlet scoffs, smirking as she shakes her head. “You and I both know that you are more than capable of controlling the information present online. I only saw what you wanted people to see. Yes, fair enough, I got into Metamorphosis and...saw plenty in there.”
I recoil slightly.Plenty?What the fuck does that mean?
“I have indeed researched deeper, and my skills allowed me better access, but...I haven’t scratched the surface. And I would like tocarveright into it and learn just who you are. Give me something good. Personal.Vulnerable.”
Her request lands like a challenge. She knows by now I don’t do personal. I certainly don’t do vulnerable. But she holds my gaze in a vise that tightens somewhere behind my ribs, prying open all those things the creature that lives there chews on every single day of my life. She wants them out, and I can’t think of anything worse.
She’ll run away.
She’ll hide from me.
And I’ll lose her before I truly figure out how I can have her. Protect her from me.Keep her.
“The violin you stole from me is called ‘The Crimson Violin.’ It’s the most precious thing I own. I wouldkillfor it.”
She narrows her eyes, expression falling gently from amusement to slight worry.
“Does that mean that you still want to kill me?” she murmurs.
The answers spill inside my mind before her sentence is finished. Voicing it wouldn’t scare her—but it scares me. Because I wouldn’t kill her. I would killfor her.
It’s too soon.
Too fast.
Too much.
Strains grip my chest, deep beneath my ribs, twisting and churning, fluttering lower around muscles, sinews, and hollow parts of my abdomen. A peculiar physical reaction to a sensation that has been blooming viciously in the intangible parts of me.
