The Spider

18

Sebastian moved through the ballroom, shaking hands and greeting his guests again. He disappeared from sight but reappeared a few minutes later in the center of the floor, his arm around Charlotte’s shoulder, his head bent down as he whispered something in her ear. I wondered where she’d been hiding.

Like her friend, Charlotte wore a simple dress, although hers was black with splashes of deep blue, almost like abstract roses blooming across the pouffy skirt. Her black hair was pulled back into another French braid, the end tied off with a blue ribbon.

Sebastian left Charlotte standing by herself while he went over, grabbed a champagne flute and a fork from one of the bartenders, and gently ting-ting-tinged the tines against his glass. Slowly, the orchestra’s classical music faded away, and the crowd quieted down.

Sebastian moved back to the center of the ballroom, putting his arm around Charlotte’s shoulder again.

“I want to welcome you all here tonight,” he said, looking from one side of the crowd to the other. “Thank you all for coming and helping Charlotte and me honor our father. Tonight is my sister’s fourteenth birthday, and it would have been his fifty-first. I can’t think of a more fitting tribute to him than being here with all of you, his friends, his family.”

Sebastian’s gaze flicked over to Mab. An amused smile flitted across her face, as though she were in on some private joke that no one else knew about. Maybe she was simply glad that Vaughn was dead, and some of the problems that he’d caused for her along with him.

“A lot of rumors have been going around about my father’s death,” Sebastian said. “The police are still investigating this horrible crime, but I wanted to make all of you a promise here tonight. His killer will be brought to justice. My father wouldn’t accept anything less, and neither will I.”

The crowd clapped heartily at his words. This time, Sebastian looked straight at Harry Coolidge, who had his arms crossed over his chest and a sour look on his face. I wondered what the cop knew that I didn’t. But like Fletcher had said, I couldn’t exactly ask him.

“My father is gone,” Sebastian continued. “And although we are here tonight to celebrate his birthday, his memory, his legacy, we all know that we cannot dwell on the past and that we must move forward. That is why I will be assuming control of Vaughn Construction, effective immediately.”

Sebastian straightened, and his voice boomed through the ballroom as he outlined how he wanted to continue the work and projects that his father had started. Truth be told, I tuned most of it out, since it was obvious that Sebastian was trying to reassure his business associates that everything with the company would proceed on time and on budget. I wondered if that was why he’d invited Mab. Fletcher had said that she owned a significant stake in Vaughn Construction, and she wasn’t the sort of investor you disappointed—not if you wanted to keep breathing.

Charlotte squirmed out from under her brother’s arm, although Sebastian caught her hand and kept her close to him. She stared down at the polished floor under her black sandals. I wondered if all the talk about what a great man her father had been upset her, if that was what she wanted to get away from. I wondered if she was thinking about all the times he’d hit her, all the times he’d abused her, all the times he’d hurt her simply because he could.

“And so tonight begins a new era, not only for Charlotte and myself but also for Vaughn Construction . . .” Sebastian went on with his speech.

“What a boring, pompous, long-winded jackass,” a snide voice murmured in my ear. “Some people just do not know when to shut up. What do you see in him?”

Startled, I looked over to my right at Finn’s grinning face. Not many people could sneak up on me, but he was one of them. Finn was lighter on his feet than a cat. Despite my annoyance with him over the past several days, I had to admit that he cut an impressive figure in his tuxedo, and his hair gleamed like polished walnut in the soft glow from the chandeliers. Not that I would ever tell him that, though. His ego was big enough already.

“When did you get here?”

He waved his hand. “Not important. Just like everything your boyfriend is spouting up there on his soapbox.”

“He’s thanking people for coming and supporting him and Charlotte,” I said, rolling my eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Give the guy a break. His dad just died a few weeks ago.”

“You mean, you just killed his dad a few weeks ago.”

Fury flashed through me like lightning striking the earth. My eyes narrowed, and my hands balled into fists. “Is that why you came here? To remind me of that? Because my memory’s not that short. I never forget them—any of them.”

I remembered all the assignments that Fletcher had sent me out on, all the random people who’d foolishly decided to mess with me, all the punks who’d wanted to hurt me when I’d been living on the streets—all the people I’d killed. I remembered the way they looked, talked, laughed, snarled, smelled, and I especially remembered how they’d died and that I’d been the cause of their sudden, violent demises. Maybe that was where my dreams, my memories, were coming from. The fact that I just couldn’t forget about all the bad things that I’d done, even if some had been necessary simply to survive.

Finn’s face softened at my harsh words. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to fight. I just don’t know what you see in that guy, Gin. Look at him, holding court in the middle of the ballroom, crowing about all the things he plans to do now that his father is gone. He’s trying too hard, yet again, like a prince who’s finally seized the king’s throne and doesn’t want anyone to know exactly how ill suited he is for the job.”

I glanced at Sebastian. Sometime while I’d been talking to Finn, Sebastian had let go of Charlotte, who’d disappeared into the crowd, and was now waving around his free hand and stabbing his index finger up to the ceiling in order to punctuate his points. Maybe he was being a little overly dramatic, but I knew how important it was for him to make a good impression tonight, now that he was the head of the Vaughn family.

“He’s doing the best he can,” I said, turning back to Finn. “You can’t blame him for that.”

“No, I suppose not.” Finn sighed. “Just . . . be careful with this guy, okay, Gin? I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“And how is that?”

For once, Finn’s green gaze was dark and serious. “Like you’re halfway in love with him.”

I kept my face cold, calm, and expressionless, but he must have seen the uneasy agreement in my eyes, because he reached out and gently touched my arm, as if I were a piece of delicate glass. That’s exactly how I felt right now—brittle, fragile, and utterly exposed.

“You know that it can never work out, right?” Finn said in a soft voice.

“Of course I know that.” I sneered. “I killed his father. I might be an assassin, but I’m not stupid.”

Finn shook his head. “It’s more than just that. It’s what we do versus what he does. Our world versus his.”

“And here I thought that we all lived in the same world.”

“Not people like us. Our world is in the background, in the shadows, in the darkness, where few people dare to tread.”

“And his isn’t?”

Finn held out his hand, gesturing at the ballroom. “This is about as far from the shadows as you can get, Gin. And I think you know that deep down inside. You can be one thing or the other—you can’t be both.” He paused. “Except maybe if you’re Mab Monroe.”

Everything that he was saying was undeniably true. But I had just been so . . . so . . . happy with Sebastian, so thrilled with the way he made me feel like I was the most wonderful person he’d ever met. I’d never had that before.

Oh, Fletcher loved me like a daughter, Jo-Jo too, and of course Finn and I had our sibling rivalry going on. I supposed that even Sophia felt some sort of fond, grudging affection for me, although she would never go so far as to say it out loud. But the four of them had been a family long before I’d shown up like a lost puppy on the back step of the Pork Pit, and sometimes I still felt like an outsider looking in. I supposed that was one of the reasons that I’d trained so long and hard to be the assassin Fletcher had wanted me to be—so I could please him in one area that Finn never could.

So I could be the insider for a change.

But it wasn’t like that with Sebastian. Not at all. He made me feel important, he made me feel . . . special in a way that I never had, not even with my own family. Even when my mom and sisters had been alive, I’d always been the one in the middle. Not old enough to hang out with my mom and Annabella and too old for Bria and her dolls, even though I was the one who’d always ended up playing with her anyway, simply because I loved her so much.

I didn’t want to give up Sebastian and how he made me feel, but Finn was right. I didn’t have a choice. Because sooner or later, the sand would run out in the hourglass of my happiness, the carriage would turn back into a pumpkin, and my glass slipper would splinter into shards. Either I’d slip up and say something that I shouldn’t, or Harry Coolidge or some other investigator would get the bright idea to take a hard look at me and when and why I’d appeared in Sebastian’s life. I’d rather leave on my own terms, with at least a little bit of my dignity left—and my heart too. More important, I had to go out like that if only not to endanger Finn and Fletcher. I might be willing to risk my own safety but not theirs.

Not even for Sebastian.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll try one more time to find that file the old man wants tonight, and then I’ll get out—for good.”

Even if it would break my heart. I didn’t want to leave Sebastian behind, but Finn was right. There was no place for me in Sebastian’s world, and I didn’t want to drag him into mine. Not when he would hate me for it and what I’d done to his father.

Finn studied me, his features eerily similar to Fletcher’s in that moment. Then he nodded, apparently satisfied by whatever he saw in my face. He gave my arm another gentle squeeze before snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Now, on to more important matters,” he drawled. “Like who I plan on bringing home for the evening. I was thinking about her.”

He tipped his glass at a woman standing about twenty feet away from us, one of the most breathtaking women I’d ever seen. Her spaghetti-strapped black gown was sleek and stylish and brought just the right amount of attention to her perfect body while also highlighting the rich toffee color of her skin. She had wonderful curves, but her face was even more beautiful, with dark, expressive eyes and glorious cheekbones. A thin diamond headband held her black hair back off her face, showing off her scarlet lips and the gentle slope of her neck. She wasn’t wearing any other jewelry, but she didn’t need to.

I might have had something of a Goth Cinderella vibe going on tonight, but she was the sort of woman who would look gorgeous long after the ball was over.

“Who’s that?”

“Roslyn Phillips,” Finn said, never taking his eyes off her as he sipped his champagne. “She’s opening up a new nightclub. It’s called Northern Aggression.”

“Northern Aggression? Clever.”

He nodded. “Clever, indeed. She came into the bank a few months ago to get the financing. You should have seen the way she had all of the bigwigs eating out of the palm of her hand. They thought she was just a pretty face to start with, but she really wowed them with her business plan. That is a woman to be reckoned with.”

And apparently, a woman to be admired, judging from the men standing three deep around her. Still, I had to respect the graceful way she spoke to each of them in turn, never favoring one over another, even though they were all competing for her attention.

“I see two CEOs, a couple of CFOs, and a drug lord gathered around her,” I said. “And you really think that she’s going to go home with you tonight? Keep dreaming, Finn.”

“Ah, yes. But I have one thing that all of those other schmucks don’t.”

“Really? What’s that?”

He flashed me a cocky grin. “I’m Finnegan Lane, baby. The best there is at everything—including the boudoir arts.”

I couldn’t keep myself from laughing or teasing him. “Well, good luck, Mr. Lane. Although I would think that someone like her would be more your speed.”

I pointed over at the blond girl who had come in with Harry Coolidge, the one who looked so much like Bria. She and Charlotte had finally connected, and the two of them stood next to the table full of birthday presents. The blond girl was talking animatedly, glancing around with excitement at all the people, but Charlotte was focused on the present that her friend had given her. She slowly untied the pink ribbon, lifted the box top, and set it aside. She dug through some tissue paper before pulling out a delicate pink cameo that was a match for the blue one the blond girl was wearing. Charlotte must have liked it, because she immediately hooked the cameo around her neck. The blond girl beamed at her friend.

“Her?” Finn asked, his voice taking on an offended, incredulous note. “She looks like she’s fifteen at the most. That’s way too young for me, Gin. I do have some standards, moral and otherwise.” He paused and glanced at the girl again. “Maybe in ten years or so. When she’s all grown up.”

I laughed at his arrogance, but if there was one man who could make something happen, even ten years into the future, it was definitely Finn.

“You know, one day, you’re going to meet a girl who won’t automatically fall in love with you or be immediately seduced by your so-called charm,” I sniped. “I just hope that I’m around to see it happen, when the ego of the mighty Finnegan Lane gets the bruising and beat-down that it so richly deserves.”

Finn threw his arm around my shoulders. “Have I mentioned how much I love it when you talk about me in the third person? Totally makes my ego kick up another notch. Or ten.”

I couldn’t help but laugh again.

“. . . and so I want to raise a toast to my father and to keeping his legacy alive and well for years to come.” Sebastian was finally finishing his speech. “Cheers.”

He raised his champagne glass high, and so did everyone else in the ballroom. There was a moment of silence. Then the music started up again, and the guests resumed their previous conversations.

Porter separated himself from the crowd and went over to Sebastian, who was shaking hands again with some of his guests. Sebastian whispered something to Porter, who handed him a fresh glass of champagne. Sebastian took that glass and headed in my direction.

“Looks like my cue to leave,” Finn said. “Just think about what I said, okay, Gin?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Despite all of our differences over the years, our childish fights, our failed summer romance, and our continued rivalry, he really was the best brother a girl could have, blood or otherwise.

Finn winked at me, then slipped off into the crowd, heading straight for Roslyn Phillips. One moment, he was standing on the fringes of the men around her. The next, he’d insinuated himself by her side. I didn’t know how he managed it. Sometimes I thought Finn was part magician and part cat.

“Ms. Phillips, I don’t think you’ve had the pleasure of my company yet,” Finn murmured, his smooth, suave voice drifting over to me. “My name is Finnegan Lane . . .”

And that was all I heard before Sebastian reached my side, a wide grin on his face from his moment of triumph. He passed me the glass of champagne that Porter had given him. I didn’t much care for champagne. It was too bubbly, too light and frothy, for my liking, as though I were drinking fizzy air, but I didn’t want to be rude. He tinked his glass against my own, and we toasted each other.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here and go have that talk.”

“Are you sure you want to leave now? The party is just getting started again.”

Sebastian stepped closer to me and pressed a soft kiss against my cheek. I breathed in his scent, sweet and spicy at the same time. Once more, desire stirred in my veins, deeper and more intense than before, because I knew that this night would be the only one that I ever had with him.

Sebastian drew back, his dark eyes searching mine. “I’m sure,” he whispered. “Are you?”

All I could do was nod, too overcome with emotion to speak.

He grabbed my hand, and I let him pull me out of the ballroom.