Page 29 of Stormhold

He sighed, swirling his nightcap. “That’s the question in all our heads.”

Arkane Stormhold was elusive; that much was obvious tonight, but he was also a master at any game he played. The one he played tonight with DeLuca was proof enough. Something deep inside me asked—was I a part of the game too? Him sharing more than he should just because of an alliance didn’t seem right.

I wondered what Arkane really wanted with me. Or did he really want something at all? Because no matter how hard I thought about it, it seemed very unusual for someone like him to indulge me.

I deeply hoped that none of it was the case, and we were simply two associates working together for mutual benefit. Even then, I think my resolve was slowly melting for this man, and I would blindly hang onto every word he said like it was my true saving grace.

CHAPTER 11

ARKANE

My eyes remained fixed on the bold headline on page four of the Twins Daily, splayed out on my desk. It read, “Even a private island of the rich and the famous is not safe. An attendee of the infamous Galliano auction event was found dead like a frivolous mummy, his skin parched and unrecognizable. Sources confirm it to be poison.”

“It was her,” Mikhail stated the obvious, looking at me with his stoic gaze from the corner of the room where he had taken up residence since he had handed me this morning’s newspaper.

I nodded, swiveling my chair to face the windows. The crepuscular rays of the sun crept through the stained glass, forming a late afternoon glow of blues, greens, and gold in my office. Every time I looked at it, it brought me comfort, but now I felt nothing but unrest.

My mother was insistent that she’d paint this window for me. Glass painting was a hobby of hers, and she was one of the few people in the world I could never say no to, so I agreed without a thought.

The tree of life would bring me strength and hope, she said while she painstakingly crafted the art with its long, winding roots and branches, the green of the leaves bleeding into the luminescent blue background, almost as if they were floating in the air. She even added a single deep red rose in the bottom corner, because everyone needed a little love and beauty and some color, she said with a wide smile that made her gray eyes sparkle.

I didn’t think much of the painting or her meaning behind it, but every time I looked at it, it made me think of her, and that made me feel an ounce of peace. But now she lay cold in a bed, fighting for her life, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

Over the years, when my father enforced discipline like a strict army general, my mother was the only person in the world who showed me care and something near comparable to love. There was nothing in this world that I wouldn’t do for her, including finding the men who did this to her.

“She beat you to the game,” Lucien voiced over my shoulder. “Would you consider it an act of betrayal?”

“I think the more important question would be…” Karl mused. “What was he going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” I said flatly.

Neither man bothered to respond as they went on about other matters. They did know me better than most people—I could go as far as to say, better than anyone in this world. They were the men I would consider my closest friends, that is, if one of them hadn’t betrayed my family or me already. I spared my siblings from this meeting. In fact, I wouldn’t even call this a meeting. Karl, Lucien, and I met almost every day to take a break from the outside world, and this was one such occasion.

My mind drifted back to the situation at hand. Harvey Walters was an important piece of my plan. I was going to make Kill lose sleep, thinking he had a mole among his trusted inner circle, a taste of the same medicine he fed me. And Harvey Walters losing the Serb deal created a perfect opportunity for that. Only now, there wasn’t any life in his useless body, and I knew exactly where Kill would be pointing fingers. Me. I didn’t like how I had to change things now because of an unexpected interruption.

His death was an interesting development, but the question was, could I still use it to my advantage?

An hour later, our conversation wrapped up, and they both slipped off to their evenings, doing whatever it was that deemed appropriate for a Greigewood and Ford on a Friday night. Possibly, good bourbon and a good fuck.

Somehow, the idea of my evening thrilled me more, like seeing a certain someone who had caused trouble when I least saw it coming.

Ten minutes later, I was walking through the same long hallways of the Twins Codex, past the marbled sculptures and high shelves lined with books bathed in soft light, till I reached the section secluded in the far back, separate from the main library block.

Perfect spot for a little killer.

“Ms. Esteal,” I said, leaning over the same bookshelf as last time.

She sat at her desk, this time in a rosy-pink dress, with capped sleeves and a flowing skirt that came just below her knees, her creamy legs finished in a pair of her usual three-inch black heels with gold tips. Her straight black hair fell perfectly over her beautiful face, bringing out the gold of her delicate earrings as her glass-covered eyes lay focused on the book she was intently reading on her desk. Graceful and beautiful as always.

“Are we back to Ms. Esteal now?” she asked in her soft, melodic voice without looking up from her book while she took her sweet time to add a bookmark to her page before leaning back to fold her arms and lock her eyes with me.

I took deliberate steps toward her and tossed the newspaper on her desk. It landed with a soft thud, with page four on full display.

“You care to explain this?” I asked in a tone that conveyed no emotion. I wasn’t the kind of person who liked surprises. I made every move in my life with intention. My every action served a purpose toward my family. I plan, study, and calculate to anticipate every possible outcome, and Bellrose Esteal calmly assassinating Harvey Walters while being by my side the entire night wasn’t one I ever expected.

“I killed Harvey Walters,” she admitted without hesitating.

“I think I got the gist of that information,” I replied dryly. “My question is why? This isn’t what we agreed before going to the event.”