“I wasn’t,” he told her. “I wouldn’t.”
She snorted her disbelief at his words, but she didn’t pull away, and he realized that he liked the way her skin felt under his fingertips. Soft, when there had been so little softness in his life for so long. He knew enough not to depend on it, though, because it couldn’t last. Not with so much standing between them. He had to get out of the city, and for that he had to remember that she was just another thing standing in his way.
He dropped his hands from her shoulders.
“Do you think he’s out there?” she asked, peering past the stage into the theater.
“Second box to the right,” he told her. “There’s no need to be nervous. This is going to work.”
“I’m not nervous,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “Just ready.”
“You’ll come on when I give the cue, just as we rehearsed.”
“I know. I know,” she said. “You’ve gone over this a hundred times. Two hundred times.” But her voice didn’t have the usual bite.
“Don’t forget to—” The organ trilled his introduction, and it was too late for any more instructions. “Just like we practiced. You’ll be fine.”
She nodded, but there was something in her eyes that worried him.
“Esta—”
“What are you waiting for?” Shorty hissed. “That was your cue!”
Unable to wait any longer, he gave her what he hoped was a stern but encouraging look, and took the stage.
Word that he was debuting a new effect had gotten out, and the seats were nearly full. The audience went gratifyingly silent when he stepped into the spotlight, and when he lifted his arms to salute the crowd, a rumble of applause rolled over him, settling his nerves and steeling his resolve. He worked through his usual bits, and the audience seemed willing enough to watch, because they knew something bigger, better was coming.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” The words came as easily as the prayers his mother had taught him when he was a boy, but this time, much more was riding on his performance than a good night onstage. “I have a special treat for you this evening. A new demonstration and a new beauty for you to feast your eyes upon.” He held out his hand, as they’d practiced, and Esta glided onto the stage.
If she’d been nervous before, there was no sign of it now. She walked like a debutante, like she’d been born to tread the boards. But then maybe she had. After watching Esta the past few days, he’d come to understand that she was one of the best grifters he’d ever seen. Maybe even better than him.
“May I present to you Miss Esta von Filosik of Rastenburg. I studied under her father, the foremost expert on the transmutation of the elements. He made great breakthroughs in the hermetic sciences before his untimely death, and now Miss Filosik has come to these shores to share her father’s secrets with all of you. Tonight she will demonstrate her mastery over the powers of the Otherworld by cheating death”—he paused dramatically, letting the crowd’s anticipation grow—“in the Glass Casket.”
Excited murmurs rustled through the crowd. As the assistant rolled the box onto the stage, he chanced a glance in the direction of Jack’s box and was relieved to see him leaning forward against the railing of the balcony, watching with clear interest.
“If you would?” he said, offering Esta his hand, as they’d practiced.
She hesitated, though, and didn’t take it as she was supposed to.
“My dear,” he said, offering his hand again.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She shook her head and took a step back.
He offered his hand again and forced the smile to stay put on his face. This can’t be happening. Not again. Not now. “Come, my dear. It’s perfectly safe.”
A slow smile curved her lips, and he had the sudden feeling that he wasn’t going to like what happened next.
“Oh, I bet you say that to all the girls,” Esta told the audience in her throaty accented voice as she crossed the stage, ignoring his outstretched hand and turning all his careful planning on its head.
He could practically feel the audience’s confusion and their amusement. Hushed whispers rustled through the room as they waited to see what the girl would do next, and whether he would be able to regain control.
Harte Darrigan had survived his mother leaving him, a childhood in the streets he’d rather forget, and working for a boss who thought it was easier to kill people than to talk things over. He’d made a life from keeping his cool in sticky situations, but none of that had managed to prepare him for being in the spotlight—his spotlight—with Jack Grew in the audience and himself completely at her mercy.
He was afraid to look in Jack’s direction, afraid to see what his reaction would be. This whole con depended on Jack feeling like Harte was real competition, feeling like he had something to prove and someone to beat.
She could ruin everything.
He’d let himself believe that he’d taken control of the situation, but he’d been as easily conned as any mark, taken in by a pair of honeyed eyes and pink lips and the soft, clean scent of flowers. He had known she was up to something. Worse, he’d let himself forget that anyone working for Dolph Saunders had to be a snake. And he had the sinking feeling he’d just been bitten.
Then something shifted in the audience. The murmuring died a bit, as though they wanted to see what would happen next.
He hadn’t lost them yet. He could still save this.
“Please, if you would simply step into the casket, we can continue our demonstration.” He held out his hand. “As we planned,” he said through clenched teeth.
She let out a dramatic sigh, raising her hand to the curve of her chest—a move he had no doubt was intentional. “Oh, all right, darling,” she said with a wink to the audience. “But there are easier ways to get rid of me.”
Someone in the audience chuckled.
“My father always said a handsome face would be the death of me,” Esta said dramatically. ?Then she shrugged. “I hate when he’s right.” Finally, she took his hand and climbed the steps to sit in the glass box.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, as he made a show of helping her arrange her skirts.
“I’m improvising,” she told him through her smile.
Improvising? He’d show her improvising.
Her eyes went wide when she understood what he was about to do, but she didn’t have time to stop him before he closed the lid.
It was wrong of him, maybe even a little cruel. He knew she hated to be in there. Through all their practicing, he’d gathered that there was something about being in that small, confined, airless space that made her jittery like nothing else could. They’d worked it out so he closed the lid at the last possible second.