He smiles. “Are you Clara?”
I’ve never seen this man before. And I have no desire to meet him now. “Excuse me. I’m looking for my sister.”
He grins, mouth stretching wide. He looks kind of like a movie star, and I don’t like it. “I’m afraid she’s indisposed at the moment. I hope that will give you a few minutes to talk to me.”
I’m standing in the middle of hundreds of people, but I’ve never felt more alone. I don’t know where Honor is. She could be anywhere in the house. Heck, she could have left the house. And with Byron, who is no doubt hurting her in some way. He will always hurt her. There’s no way we can stop him. As I stand in the crowded room, a deep and sorrowful certainty takes root.
We have to go. Leave. There’s no reason to wait.
There’s no reason to hope things will get better.
The only thing to do is leave—and never see Gio again.
“Excuse me,” I say again, this time more quietly. I’m breaking apart inside. “I think I need to be alone.”
His expression turns apologetic. “Actually, Honor sent me to check on you. She knew she’d be busy and wanted to make sure you had someone by your side.”
I narrow my eyes. Is he flat out lying to me? It feels that way. Honor would know I don’t want some weirdo stranger hovering around me. But then again, she does get protective sometimes. Maybe she did worry about me in the ballroom by myself.
But why not send someone I actually knew? Or at least introduce me to him first?
Then again, it’s not like Byron would have given her time to do anything. If he says to jump off a cliff, he’s already pushing you off. That’s how he operates.
I look back at the party. I do feel sick now. Sick of smiling. Sick of pretending. I want to be in the pool house, teasing Giovanni. But it’s still my sister’s party. And I don’t need to listen to my intuition to know she might be hurting right now. I have to find her before I go. I’ll make sure she’s okay. Then I’ll make excuses so I can sneak to the pool house.
“Can you bring me to my sister?” I ask the strange man.
“Of course.” His smile disarms me. He actually looks pretty nice when he’s not blocking my path and being pushy. “She just stepped outside for some air.”
*
The lights strung up over the patio cast the rest of the lawn into darkness. I can’t even see the outline of the pool house from here. A couple is making out, half-hidden by a bush, but they stop when they see us. Actually, not us. Him. Whoever this guy is, he makes their eyes widen and they run inside, straightening their clothes as they go.
“Where’s my sister?” I say.
He absently scans the dark landscape. “She’ll be along.”
It’s not only secluded here. It’s quiet. Much quieter than the voices and five-string orchestra inside. It makes me feel a little stranded, being out here alone with him, with no one to hear me. “Umm, what did you say your name was again?”
“Markam,” he says with an easy smile. “Javier Markam.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Wasn’t he in the news about some big controversy? “The governor’s son?”
“Does my reputation precede me?”
I can’t remember what he’d supposedly done. But no one in that ballroom has clean hands. Not even me. We all benefit from the criminal enterprise in some way, even if it’s only the bed we sleep in or the guards that lock us in. “Not really.”
“Good.” A glint enters his eyes. “I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot.”
Suspicion is a dark knot in my chest. “Are you friends with Byron?”
“Good friends, yes. We go way back.”
My heart pounds. Honor would never send one of Byron’s friends to me. She wouldn’t trust him any more than I do. “He said something about wanting me to meet his friends. Was he talking about you?”
Dark eyes study me. “Direct. I like that in a girl. I hope we can speak frankly with each other.”
“Why would that matter?”
“Because we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other. At least, if I have my way.” He winks to lighten the words, but I can read between the lines. He always gets his way.
“I don’t understand.”
He shrugs. “You know how these things work. Powerful people make powerful enemies. We need to stick together. Like Byron and Honor, for example.”
We are nothing like Byron and Honor. They’re engaged. And if that was a marriage proposal, it was seriously lame. “I’m fifteen.”
That earns me a chuckle. He has handsome features and an expensive tux, but he’s twisting and distorting while I look at him. Everything looks exaggerated, fake. His smile. His hair. Even the good humor in his eyes. It’s a creepy kind of humor. “I know you’re too young for anything serious. We’re just getting to know each other. Getting to know if…there’d even be a point in pursuing this, understand?”
No. “And if there is?”