* * *
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?”
“Then you’d still stay here, finish your studies. You’d be under Byron’s protection. I’d visit from time to time.”
In other words, he’d be free to play the field while I’d stay locked up in here. Gross. “I’d like to find my sister now.”
“Look, Clara.” He drops his head. It’s an endearing move. A practiced move. “The truth is, Byron didn’t only introduce me to you because of the family connections we could make. He thought I’d like you…and I do.”
Somehow I don’t think he’s talking about my personality. “Why would he think that?”
“You have a certain innocence. A youthfulness I find appealing.”
It’s called being underage, jackass. “Well, thanks. I guess. I’d like to find my sister, though. I’m worried about her.”
“You never have to worry about her. Byron would never let anything happen to her.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. I take a step back. Then there’s a hand clamped around my wrist. Javier’s hand. “Let me go.”
He pulls me closer. I wobble on my high heels, almost falling into him. The shawl comes lose. His gaze drops and darkens.