Chapter 2

“ B ingo,” I whisper, leaning closer to the screen and zooming in on the photograph. A rare smile graces my lips when Sinclair knocks on the doorframe.

“Should I be worried?” he asks, adjusting his circular glasses. “I can’t recall the last time I saw you smile.” Without invitation, he enters my space and sits across from me—formidable and larger than life in his pressed suit and designer glasses. “Who died?” Interlacing his fingers on his stomach, he kicks his expensive Berluti Oxfords up on the desk and crosses his ankles. I’m too intrigued by the mysterious little intruder to be annoyed by Sinclair’s apparent lack of manners or the patch of dirt on his soles. We both know he likes to push my buttons.

I turn the screen. “As soon as I saw her face, I knew she looked familiar.”

“Who?” Sinclair points over his shoulder. “The help you plucked from polishing duty? I must say, I was surprised. It’s not like you to act so impulsively. I was beginning to think you were a born-again virgin.”

I ignore the amusement in his voice. “Does she not look familiar to you?”

Sinclair puts his feet on the floor and leans closer to study the photograph of Cecilia. “Since when are you into working-class girls? I thought they were more up Beaumont’s alley.”

My jaw twitches at the mention of my arch nemesis. “Since I took one look at her and realized she is Cecilia van der Meer.”

That gets his attention. He straightens in his seat. “ The Cecilia van der Meer?”

“The one and only.”

“You found her.”

“ She found us ,” I reply. “Katarina van der Meer’s daughter grew up.”

The girl is careful—I’ll give her that. She went to great lengths to cover her tracks. It took a quick phone call to my best investigator and a large sum of money to find out everything there is to know about her after she was hidden from the Exodus to keep the family’s legacy and fortune safe. Seems she grew resentful of the events during the last Reckoning when her father disappeared after he declined a very generous offer for his daughter and disrespected the Bishop. Why else would she be back? If not to seek revenge?

I turn the screen and bring up a different article my investigator sent me. Sinclair frowns when I show him it. “Antichrist? What the hell is that?”

“Looks like van der Meer has teamed up with a well-known rebel group that has a history of attacking Exodus members on Reckoning night. There are plenty of rebel groups, but this one is particularly pesky. It’s all being swept under the rug, of course.” I lean back in my seat, waving a dismissive hand.

Sinclair rolls his eyes and rakes his fingers through his silver hair. “So where is she now?”

“I sent her on her way.”

He blinks at me and then laughs, but it dies just as fast. “You’re serious. Why did you let her go? Are you feeling okay?” He sits forward. “Do I need to call an ambulance? Did the Delacroix let a pretty woman go after she snuck in here to snoop around? I’ve never seen you think with your dick before.”

“Please,” I say with a scoff, “don’t be ridiculous. I’m giving her a head start.” Sinclair watches me slide open the drawer to retrieve a warthog mask. It’s an ugly golden thing. Tossing it on the counter, I smile darkly. “Tomorrow night, I hunt.”

Sinclair chuckles, placing his ankle on his knee. “I rest my case; you think with your dick. I’m proud of you. Always knew you had it in you. Though I must say, I never realized how much you like to play with fire.”

I don’t react to his mediocre humor. “You know as well as I do that Beaumont will show his face when he gets wind of van der Meer’s daughter. Their fortune is dwindling fast, and the Exodus has been hunting for her for a long time. Beaumont will do just about anything to get in good standing with the Bishop.”

“Oh, the rivalry.” He smirks. “You torpedoed their ship like the Britannic after you went to great lengths to interfere with their weapon trade late last year so you could swoop in and pick at the remains. Don’t pretend you don’t love watching them sink.”

“I enjoy it immensely. Beaumont has been a thorn in my side since day one. Which is why I can’t let him get his hands on van der Meer’s daughter.”

Sinclair stands up and walks over to the minibar. “This has nothing to do with a shapely pair of legs and green doe eyes or your hatred for her father?” He pours himself a tumbler of whiskey, his eyes on the task. “If you wanted to kill this woman to cut off Beaumont’s last chance of resurrection within the Exodus or to avenge your family, you would’ve killed her without hesitation when you had the chance. Instead, you let her go. I know you, Darian. You’ve always liked a challenge. This petite woman has balls big enough to sneak in here to snoop around in broad daylight. Not only was it courageous, but it was also reckless. When was the last time anyone stood up to you? Your reputation precedes you. Let’s not forget that she’s forbidden fruit and a woman you should stay far away from if you have an ounce of survival instinct.”

“What are you saying?” I ask, bored with this conversation. The chair creaks beneath my weight as I ease back and drum my fingers on the armrests.

He takes a sip of the amber liquid, appreciating the expensive alcohol at his disposal. “Beaumont might indeed try to track down this woman, but his desperate death throes do not explain why you defiled the poor thing on your desk.”

I roll my eyes.

Smirking at me from behind the rim of his tumbler, he takes another small sip, letting the smoky flavor mature on his tongue before he swallows it down. “I’ve known you your whole life, Darian. You don’t act impulsively, and you don’t date women below your own tax bracket. You keep your affairs out of the public eye and refuse to take a wife. Yet this young woman was moaning loudly enough to make the gardener blush mere minutes after I left this room.” His smug smile irks me. “She broke in here, ballsy as hell, which caught your interest, whether or not you’re willing to admit it. Even more so when you realized that she looked familiar. You’re intrigued by this woman. Intrigued enough to betray the Exodus.”

I try my hardest to ignore my eye twitch while watching him drink. Sometimes, I hate how observant he can be and how much he loves watching me squirm like a worm on a hook.

“It’s okay,” he says, shrugging. “We’ve all chased pussy.”

“I’m not chasing pussy.”

“No?” Placing his drink down on the bar, he saunters to my desk, retrieves the warthog mask, and inspects it. “Since you’re so set on playing with fire, you should wear this when you fuck her face-first into the dirt tomorrow. Make her choke on a leaf or two. Women dig that nasty stuff.”

He tosses me the mask and walks out, but not before he turns over his shoulder and winks. “Oh, pull her hair. You’ll thank me later.”

My eyes roll again. “It’s a hunt, Sinclair. I’m killing her, not fucking her,” I call out after him. Today was a blip on my radar. I won’t give in to such carnal urges again. Sure, I threatened to fuck her after I chased her down, but I won’t. I’m excited for the hunt. That’s all. Not her taste, sweet moans, or fiery attitude.

Sinclair pops his head back inside with a mischievous smile big enough to earn him a part as Pennywise in the next adaptation of Stephen King’s IT . “If van der Meer is still alive after the Reckoning, your Bugatti La Voiture is mine.”

I wave him off without a second thought. “Deal. Now, find out who let her in. Someone helped her, and I want them brought as sacrifices to the party tomorrow.”

He shakes his head, chuckling. “What do you take me for? A Pawn? I’m out of here. Business to attend to.” Before leaving the room, he taps the doorframe and says, “Hey, Darian?”

“Hmm?” I’m distracted, leafing through paperwork.

“I look forward to taking your Bugatti for a spin the day after tomorrow.”

I flip him off, but he’s already gone.