“Promise me,” he repeated, and she felt his breath against her lips.
She squeezed his hand. “You asked me to trust you once. Now I’m asking you to trust me.”
His expression faltered. “I won’t let you—”
“Please.”
Breathless, she slid out of his grasp and disappeared into the crowd before he could catch her, praying she hadn’t made a heartbreaking mistake.
Enne followed the pull of the omerta toward the bar, where it whispered to her that she would find her mark. Her hands were clammy with sweat, her chest tight with fear. She would have to face Sedric Torren again. Him and the terrible, nauseating way he looked at her.
After a few moments, she stopped to glance back at Levi for a last push of courage.
He was gone.
“No,” she whispered. She shoved her way back to the alcove, but Levi was nowhere to be found. Maybe he’d left, just as she’d pleaded. Enne should’ve felt relieved, but bullets of worry buried themselves in her chest. This was not the night to make assumptions.
Had they found him already? Had they killed him?
She had no time to search. The omerta was steering her toward the bar, and the clock was ticking. Whether or not Levi was safe, she would find out from Sedric Torren, and she would finish what she’d come here to do.
The room was dark and hazy with smoke. A single figure sat at the bar, one with broad shoulders and slicked-back hair.
Sedric Torren caught her eye and gave her an inviting smile.
All at once, she was back in the St. Morse theater. Sedric’s hand had found its way to her thigh, and her mind had found its way somewhere else as she waited for the poison to work, waited for the night to end. Sedric’s mind, too, had seemed somewhere else. Fabricating reasons to lure her away, imagining the things he would do in the dark, the way he’d tell her she’d wanted this, the secrets and shame he’d convince her to keep.
She’d seen it all in his eyes then, and the same look was there now.
Enne reminded herself how far she’d come since that night. She was not Vianca’s doll. She’d walked into the Deadman District and emerged a lord. She carried poison in one pocket and a gun in the other.
She was a blade disguised as a girl.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she slid onto the stool beside him.
“’Lo, Sedric,” she said.
He inspected her dark lipstick and slip of a dress. His eyes traced over her face, her chest, the rest of her body. She could see the calculations in his head, trying to guess how old she truly was and whether he would still have her, anyway.
“Emma Salta,” he said, all smiles and snares. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. You spend an awful lot of time in casinos for such a young lady.”
It was so easy to slip back into that role. It felt like retreating to a different part of herself, a place where she didn’t need to think, didn’t need to feel.
“You don’t look happy to see me,” she said, feigning offense.
“You look awfully different.”
“I’m trying to impress,” she said. “You were right. Vianca wouldn’t hire me. I thought I would dress the part this time.”
“You’re asking me for a job?”
She couldn’t tell if she was fooling him. Everyone in this city had a perfect poker face. Lying was more of a necessity than a skill in New Reynes.
“We danced last time,” she reminded him. “It seemed a sort of audition.”
“You’re awfully ambitious.” He placed his hand under her chin and lifted it up. Her stomach twisted into a knot, and she fought the urge to slap his fingers away. If the bartender wasn’t hovering so close by, she’d pull out the syringe now. Anything to prevent him touching her.
“I’m sure we can discuss some type of...arrangement,” he said. “There’s a private room here no one’s using.”
A trap, she knew. But she needed to get him alone. There was no other way.
“That would be great,” she said.
He waved away his men, then whispered something to the bartender that she couldn’t hear. The bartender gave her a pitying look before walking away, and Enne clenched a fist behind her back in response. She wasn’t the first girl. Everyone in this casino was complicit.
“Come on,” Sedric said, putting his hand on the small of her back. It felt nothing like Levi’s had—his touch had felt warm and protective. Sedric’s felt wrong.
They entered a small dining room. He pulled out a chair for her at one end of a glossy table. Like the rest of the casino, the decorations were red and black. Red carpet. Black iron chandelier. Red candles. Black place settings. Enne settled into her chair, wondering just how many people had watched her walk in, how well they’d seen her face. If they found Sedric dead here later, would they remember her?
She couldn’t kill him yet, however. Not without knowing where Levi was.
“I sent the bartender for a few drinks,” Sedric said, winking. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Oh. Are you celebrating anything tonight?”
“You could say that. I managed to catch a criminal who was scamming a lot of people for a long time.”
Levi.
While Enne’s heart hammered, the bartender returned with their drinks, and she took hers—a sparkling pink liquid in a glass with a lollipop dunked inside. He handed Sedric a Gambler’s Ruin. “I helped a lot of people, maybe even got myself a few votes in the next election.”
To avoid responding, Enne took a sip of her drink. She couldn’t help noticing how delicious it tasted. Sweet as sin.
“You like it?” he asked, indicating the drink. “It’s called a Lollipop Lick.” Still trying to feign politeness, she nodded shakily and set down the glass. His smile widened.
“What’s going to happen to this criminal?” Please, please let him still be alive.
Her skin felt flushed all of a sudden—she was breaking under her nerves. Sweat rolled down her back, and she wished this dress wasn’t so tight on her hips.
“He’s to be executed. I arranged it myself.” Sedric licked his lips. “Why so curious?”
“No reason.” She raised her glass and prayed he didn’t see it shaking. “Cheers to your success.”
Sedric raised his glass and clinked it with hers. Then, to Enne’s shock and discomfort, he took her hand in his. It was such a little, unassuming touch, but to her, any touch from him felt repulsive. Every move he made was a rehearsed act, designed to seduce, to ensnare.
“You know,” he said, “you’re an excellent dancer, but I had no idea you were also so talented in acrobatics.”
“What?” Her heart sped up in panic. Did he know?
“Don’t be coy, my dear.” His eyes slithered over her once again, and Enne flinched. “I saw your show, and you were quite dazzling. One of the other acrobats told me your name is Enne Salta. You should’ve corrected me. I’ve been saying your name wrong this whole time.” Enne wrenched her hand away from his and let it creep toward her pocket. Her lie had unraveled, but it wouldn’t matter for much longer. She’d finish this right now.
But her hands trembled as she slid the case out, and she struggled to get a grip on it with her sweaty fingers. Thankfully, he didn’t notice her fumbling beneath the table. “I searched for you that night, but I couldn’t find you.” He leaned forward again, took her other hand again, smiled again. She was too dazed to push him off. Her cheeks burned, yet she was cold, shivering from the coolness of her sweat. Her vision darkened and lightened like she’d stood up too fast, though she hadn’t moved an inch from her seat.
This couldn’t be normal. Couldn’t just be stress or alcohol.
Amid her haze, she tried to focus on the black case in her hand. One puncture. That was all it would take to end him.
“I never had the chance, but I wanted to find you,” Sedric continued. “To buy you another drink.”
Enne’s eyes flickered to the Lollipop Lick.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asked, not sounding the least concerned. “You look a little pale.”