She didn’t say anything.
“You know that you’d just be cutting your own throat, right? If you told Victor about my magic?”
Claudia shrugged again. I stared into her eyes and saw rock-hard determination. She wouldn’t like ratting me out, but she’d do it, if for no other reason than because I’d have to work for her just to have some sort of protection from the Draconis, just to save my own miserable skin.
I barked out a laugh. “Mom said you were the most ruthless, selfish, and coldhearted person she’d ever met.”
“And Serena wasn’t coldhearted enough,” Claudia snapped back. “That’s why she got into some of the . . . trouble that she did. Especially with your father. Did she tell you about him?”
“She told me how Romeo and Juliet they were,” I said, thinking of Felix and Deah. “How he was from a different Family and they weren’t supposed to be together and all the problems it caused.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Claudia paused, as if debating whether to say more, but she must have changed her mind because she looked at me again. “But you are coldhearted enough, Lila. Ruthless enough. That’s why I need you. To help me protect Devon—to help me protect my Family.”
I was exactly what she said I was. Coldhearted, ruthless, selfish, and focused on my own survival, comfort, and well-being more than anything else. My feeding Grant and his men to the lochness last night had proved all of that.
My gaze moved past Claudia and focused on my mom’s tombstone. I thought back to what Mo had told me the first day I’d come to the Sinclair mansion—this was where my mom had wanted me to be, this was where I belonged. I didn’t know if Mo was right, but this was certainly where I was trapped, thanks to Claudia.
“Fine,” I growled. “Once again, you aren’t giving me much of a choice. So I’ll do it. I’ll stay and protect Devon and be a good little soldier. Just don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
For the first time since I’d known her, a flicker of a smile pulled up Claudia’s lips. “Oh, I would never expect that.”
“And don’t expect me to stay here forever, either. Just until we figure out what Victor is up to and how to stop it. After that, I’m gone. A ghost. And you will never see, hear from, or think about me again. Understand?”
She nodded. “Very well.”
“And if I’m going to stay here, then I want some say in Family matters.”
“Like what?”
“You need a new broker, now that Grant’s dead,” I said. “And that broker is going to be Mo.”
I’d never seen someone’s lips actually curl with disgust before, but that was the only way to describe Claudia’s expression.
“Mo Kaminsky? The Sinclair Family broker? My broker ? I don’t think so,” she spat out.
“It’s going to be Mo,” I snapped right back at her. “You need someone you can trust, and so do I. Like it or not, that person is Mo. Besides, he knows everyone, and he’ll be able to make deals that you never dreamed of. Not to mention ferret out information about what Victor is plotting.”
Claudia grumbled, but she nodded.
We hammered out a few more details, each of us demanding things from the other, and neither of us giving up an inch more than we had to. Finally, though, we’d covered all the major points, including my new and much improved salary. Claudia particularly winced when I told her how much I wanted, but I had her by the throat just as much as she had me.
“So do we have a deal?” Claudia finally asked.
I stared at her outstretched hand, once again wondering what I was getting myself into. But like it or not, I was stuck, and so was she.
So we shook on it, sealing our devil’s bargain.
Claudia and I walked back to the mansion, then split up. She went to go call Mo and tell him what we’d agreed to. I wandered through the halls, going from one room to the next, and brooding. But I kept running into people who wanted to hear all the gory details about the fight with Grant and the lochness, so I eventually retreated back to my bedroom. I propped my mom’s sword up by the nightstand, took off my suit, and threw on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. Oscar fluttered around, making snarky comments and trying to cheer me up, but I wasn’t in the mood for that, either.
Just after sunset, I found myself out on the balcony, staring down at the flashing lights of Cloudburst Falls. It was the same view my mom would have seen every night, living here at the mansion. I wondered what she had thought about them—Claudia, the Sinclair Family, Victor Draconi. I wondered if she would be happy that I was here now, following in her footsteps, whether I wanted to or not.
Several soft scrape-scrape-scrapes caught my attention, along with a few muffled curses, and I glanced over. That sounded like someone trying very hard not to fall and not really succeeding at it.
Sure enough, a second later, Devon came sliding down the drainpipe. Well, sliding was a bit generous. He hit the balcony so fast his knees buckled, and he landed on his ass. But he let out a soft laugh and pushed himself onto his feet, so I knew he wasn’t hurt.
“How do you climb up and down that thing?” he asked, brushing his hands off and walking over to me. “It’s so much harder than it looks.”
“Practice,” I quipped.
He must have been up on the roof, working on the heavy bag, because sweat had beaded at his temples again. He wore black gym shorts and a T-shirt that stretched across his chest in a delicious fashion. I remembered the feel of his body next to mine last night, his fingers curled around mine, his breath kissing my hair. And I wanted to feel those things again right now and more—so much more.
“What are you doing?” I asked to distract myself from those treacherous thoughts.