Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Jet.” I throw myself into his arms and he holds me tight, exhaling and kissing the top of my head before drawing back to take my face in his hands. He looks me over as if making sure I’m in one piece before pulling me in to hold me again.
“Are you all right?” he asks after a long time, his large hand at the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair.
“I am now,” I say, letting my guard down finally. Feeling safe, finally. “Although Jameson is a creep. They all are. Can we get out of here now?”
As he takes in the room I get a good look at him. That’s when I see the strain behind the façade of calm control. He shifts his gaze to the food and calls the waiter over.
“We’ll need two more servings of the curry for my brother and myself. Are you still hungry?” he asks me. I shake my head. “Just that and whiskey. Bring the bottle,” he says and effectively dismisses the waiter. This is so Jet. He’s so used to giving orders and having those orders obeyed that even here, a place we are not welcome, he simply expects to be obeyed.
“What happened?” I ask.
“They want us to sign some nonsense paperwork before they let us off the island.”
“Paperwork? People were killed. What do you mean paperwork?”
The waiter returns with the whiskey, and we both wait until he’s gone to speak.
“Just nothing. I’ll make sure you’re out of everything, don’t worry. But we’ll need to spend the night.”
“The night? Here?” I ask, glancing at the wall containing those coats of arms, the vines and roses creeping throughout the plaques. I’m too far to see the detail but from this angle, I swear the bird in this carving isn’t merely standing on the branch. It’s impaled on a thorn.
I shudder.
“Hey,” Jet says, calling me back. “What is it?”
I glance over his shoulder at that thing again but shake my head. Whatever this is, I need to figure it out before I involve him any deeper than he already is.
“I just want to get out of here. I don’t like this, Jet.”
“Me either, but this is how The Society works. Creepy is part of deal. But, bonus, apparently there’s a ball going on tonight.”
“Masquerade ball, Jameson said.”
“Well, at least we’ll have entertainment?”
“Are you serious?”
He shrugs a shoulder and I get the feeling we don’t have a choice.
“Well, you apparently have your own room. We’re not staying together,” I say, knowing there’s no way I’ll sleep without Jet holding me.
“Is that what they think?” he asks, the revelation catching him off guard. He covers it up quickly though, and I get the sense he wants to reassure me, make it seem like it’s not a big deal, but I think we both know it is. “Well, they’re certainly not going to keep me away from my wife. No one is.”
Severin walks into the dining room and we both turn to him. He glances at us, his expression remaining hard as stone even when he greets his brother with a nod.
“I ordered lunch,” Jet tells him.
Severin glances out the window as he pulls out a seat looking not at all pleased.
“I think we should call Cassian,” I say, looking between them.
The brothers exchange a glance. “They blocked our phones,” Jet says. “Couldn’t if we wanted to. Anyway, I don’t want him involved.”
“He can help. He can—”
“This isn’t mafia business, Amal. This is something else altogether. I don’t want to involve anyone else in it,” he says with finality.
The waiter serves up bowls of curry and brings more of the accompaniments.
My attention shifts once more to the coats of arms over the fireplace’s mantle. Jet’s gaze follows mine before our eyes meet and I feel the squeeze of his hand on my knee.
“What is it?”
I consider telling him but telling him what? That I think maybe I recognize that strange design? That maybe my mother doodled it in her diary more than once?
But before I speak, Severin clears his throat and gives a subtle shake of his head. He eats a bite of curry. I look over his shoulder, over Jet’s. I don’t need to look over mine to know more staff have entered the room and they’re not wait staff. They’re soldiers.
28
JET
Amal is picking at her food, her gaze moving back again and again to that wall over the fireplace, to the coats of arms. Sev and I eat although with each bite I wonder if we’re eating our death. The Society is adept at poisoning. It’d be the cleanest way to solve the problem we’ve created for them. Although I suppose dumping our bodies in the ocean would do the trick too. So many options.
Except that we’re Blackstones and outside of The Society, we’re important. We have money and power enough to be missed. No, no poisoning for us. No disappearing of bodies. If they kill us, it’ll be made to look like an accident.