that was sure to sound if she dropped them.
“I heard about your painting being stolen,” she said, unable to resist. “I’m sorry.”
Luke slid his hands into his pockets. “It’s fine. Worse things happen to people in this city every day.”
She avoided the urge to blink. Definitely not the answer she’d expected.
“You were in the Army, right?” A vapid, light question, if only to get them back on equal footing.
And an entirely wrong question to ask, from the way his back stiffened. Sore subject, then.
But Luke said, “The Marines.”
She batted her eyelashes. “Is there a difference?”
His jaw clenched. “Yeah. There is.” She knew there was, and part of her writhed under the vapid, inane weight of being Holly.
They reached the basement, and Luke was truly enough of a gentleman to hold the elevator doors while she swept out, aiming for the black Mercedes her driver had left for the weekend. A click of her fob had the trunk opening, revealing a pristine interior.
Luke headed toward the gray Porsche beside her car. He paused as he opened the door, as if the manners drilled into him yanked on his leash. “Enjoy your shopping,” he said tersely.
Selina waved a manicured hand. “Enjoy your…whatever you’re doing.”
He slid into his car. “Brunch with my parents. A Sunday tradition.”
Another surprise: it didn’t sound like a chore when he said it.
For a moment, she debated telling him that he was lucky—luckier than he knew—that he had parents who loved him, wanted to see him.
She debated scratching her key deep into the side of what was surely his beloved car, just for the fact that he had parents who gave a shit.
She hadn’t bothered to look her mother up once. Didn’t want to know. Even with the League’s resources, she didn’t want to know what her mom was doing. Where she was. If she was even alive.
And her father was a dead end. She sometimes wondered if he knew that he had a daughter. And if he did, would he even care?
At least Maggie was safe, cared for, in her new home in the suburbs. Even if all of this, what Selina was doing in Gotham City, meant that she had to stay far, far away from her sister.
It didn’t make it any easier, though.
Pathetic. She was absolutely pathetic for thinking such things. For that quiet, distant ache that still lurked deep in her chest. For the rage that made her want to put on her League gloves, flick open those claws, and start shredding.
Luke turned on the car, its thunderous roar filling the garage. It sounded an awful lot like the bellowing in her head.
Selina kept her face neutral as she slid into her own front seat and found him waiting. Stalling.
It took her a moment to realize Luke was waiting for her to leave. To make sure she got out of the garage safely.
A bit of an arrogant rich kid, but still a gentleman. She gave him another inane wriggle of her manicured fingers before backing out of the spot. Carefully—like how a rich woman unused to driving herself might maneuver the vehicle.
Not the graceful swoop her muscles screamed at her to do. The driving lessons on the deadly S curves of Italian roads had been one of Selina’s favorite parts of training at the League.
She inched along, out of the garage, Luke finally pulling his Porsche out to follow. He rode on her tail, as if he could barely keep the car from containing its impatience.
She debated letting her own vehicle roll back to tap his as she ascended the ramp onto the busy, sunny street, but it’d mean a delay in getting the money to the bank, and the possibility of getting her trunk opened up.
So she merely turned right while he went left, watching him vanish around a corner in her side-view mirror.
Perhaps she’d have to do something about him. Make sure his apartment became unavailable to him. Because having someone around asking questions, especially if he was a trained Marine, was not good.
She’d think about that later.
* * *
—
The alley in the Coventry district that night was quiet. Secure.
Selina had arrived early to ensure that. She’d bought her own burner phone today to contact Ivy, giving her the time and place. Nothing more.
Gotham City was stirring again. The rich were uneasy and the underworld was sitting up, paying attention.
Look. Look how easy it is, she’d been purring to them these two weeks, with each robbery. While you cower and