Page 10 of Illusionist
I force myself to meet his gaze instead of watching the subtle play of muscles in his forearms as he maintains perfect control. “Escape artistry. Locks, chains, handcuffs, straitjackets—whatever restraints you've got, I can get out of them.”
“Everyone says that.” Jules's voice carries a hint of breathlessness, but her tone stays conversational. “What makes you different?”
“I've never failed to escape.” I lean back in my chair, projecting confidence I don't entirely feel. “Not once. Give me thirty seconds with any lock, and I'll show you why.”
Silas crosses his arms, skeptical. “Thirty seconds is a bold claim.”
“It's not a claim. It's a fact.” I pull a bobby pin from my hair, straightening it with practiced movements. “Test me.”
Elias tilts his head, studying me with those unsettling pale eyes. Jules reaches for another strawberry, her movements causing him to draw in a sharp breath through his nose. But his attention never wavers from me.
“What's your background?” he asks. “Where did you perform before this?”
The question I've been dreading. I keep my expression neutral, fall back on the half-truths I practiced during the bus ride here. “Small venues mostly. Underground circuits, private parties. Places that value discretion.”
“Underground.” Jules repeats the word like she's tasting it. “Illegal gambling rings? Fight clubs?”
“Among other things.” I shrug, letting them draw their own conclusions. Better they think I'm running from debt collectors or angry gamblers than the truth. “The pay was good, but the atmosphere got... complicated.”
Silas frowns. “Complicated how?”
“Let's just say some patrons got too invested in whether I could escape their particular brand of restraints.” I meet his gaze steadily. “I prefer audiences who keep their hands to themselves.”
It's not entirely a lie. Roman's grabbing, his demands, his threats—that counts as complications. Just not the kind they're probably imagining.
Elias nods slowly. “Fair enough. Show us what you can do, and we'll consider adding you to our roster.”
Jules shifts again, deliberate and slow. This time, Elias's control slips just enough for his jaw to clench.
“Find her some chains, Silas,” he says through gritted teeth. “Put her to the test.”
I glance at Silas, expecting him to move, to fetch the chains his boss ordered. Instead, he leans against a nearby post, an infuriating smirk spreading across his face.
“Chains, huh?” His blue eyes rake over me with deliberate slowness. “I've got plenty. The question is whether you can handle what I'll wrap around you.”
The innuendo is unmistakable. Jules makes a soft sound that might be a laugh, might be something else entirely. Elias's expression doesn't change, but I catch the slight tightening around his eyes.
I narrow my gaze at Silas, letting him see the flash of temper he's been poking at since we met. “Honey, I've slipped out of tighter spots than anything you could dream up.”
“Is that right?” He pushes off the post, stalking closer. “Because I've got a very active imagination.”
“Good for you.” I tilt my chin up, meeting his approach head-on. “Must be all that time you spend alone.”
Jules definitely laughs at that, a bright sound that cuts through the tension. Even Elias's mouth twitches.
Silas stops just outside my personal space, close enough that I can smell his cologne—something dark and woody that makes me want to lean in despite myself. “Careful, little fugitive. You don't know what kind of games we play here.”
The nickname sends ice through my veins. Does he know? Has he figured out?—
No. He's fishing, same as before. Testing boundaries, looking for cracks.
“I'm not here to play games.” I keep my voice steady, bored even. “I'm here for a job. So get your chains and stop wasting everyone's time trying to impress me.”
“Trying to impress you?” His grin turns wicked. “Sweetheart, I haven't even started. Though I should warn you—I don't need chains to make a woman beg.”
Heat floods my cheeks before I can stop it. The arrogant son of a?—
“Silas.” Elias's voice cuts through like a blade. “The chains. Now.”
