Dark Queen - Ker Dukey Page 0,19

brothers. I lost my father when I was a teenager and spent most of my time at Luca’s. He’s not always an asshole.” He tilts his head, his eyes dipping over my face.

He pauses on my lips where my cut throbs. Luca? He looks like a Luca—or a Lucifer.

“It’s been a tough few months for him.”

Silence, then, “His mother dying…that’s something you can relate to.”

The bartender, Joelle, places a drink in front of him, and he picks it up, taking a sip.

I scrutinize him, unsure if he’s trying to be sincere or let me know he looked into me, knows personal information.

Bringing up someone’s dead parent is ballsy and oddly intimate. We all have that in common, how poetic.

I don’t address it, opting for the question burning a hole through my brain like a red-hot poker instead.

“What’s his connection to Swan Academy?” I ask, hoping he’ll appreciate my no bullshit approach.

He picks up a handful of some fancy nut mix Hannah puts out on the bar. It’s an assortment of nuts and seeds mixed with these stick looking things. It looks like it belongs in a bird-feeder.

“Actually, he has no connection to that place. It was his mother, my aunt. She was an admirer of the ballet. Used to tell us there wasn’t sophistication in the world like there used to be, but ballet always enriched and we had to appreciate and support the arts.”

I wonder briefly about this woman.

Did she have a long illness also?

Was he happy she was gone?

“So, he’s a benefactor?” I ask, and the pit in my stomach opens.

The way he looks at me, dissecting, feeding from my movements, my reactions, makes me feel exposed.

He’s rubbing at the raw nerves left behind from my interaction with Mr. Leto…Luca.

He throws another nut to the back of his throat, then licks his tongue over his teeth. “Aunt Marissa left a donation in her will. Luca wanted to hand deliver it. End of.”

He side-eyes me, and although I don’t know anything about him, I do know he’s not telling the full truth.

“What about the job? Does he always employ ballerinas? Is that part of the donation agreement?”

“No.” Grinning, he winks, then swipes the pad of his thumb at the corner of his mouth before getting to his feet. “You’re the only one—and that was on me.”

Thud.

“You?” I exclaim louder than I mean to. Hannah furrows her brow in our direction, and I shrink a little in embarrassment.

“I thought you’d be entertaining.”

Leaning in toward me, drowning me in his sheer size, his breath tickles my earlobe as he says, “And I wasn’t wrong.”

His dark chuckle chases behind him like a shadow as he walks away. My heart pounds, palms sweaty.

Hannah hurries over toward me, her fingers tightening around a cloth. “What was that about?”

She doesn’t look like the happy, beaming Hannah I’ve become accustomed to. There’s a strain in her voice, her features weary.

“I’m not entirely sure.” I sigh, getting to my feet. “How did you know about me when I came in for the job?” I ask, my eyes locked on her features.

Removing his empty glass and wiping the bar she adverts her gaze, “Marcello told me you’d be coming. Just said to be nice and make you feel welcomed.”

She dumps the cloth and fidgets with her polished red nails. “Is there something going on with you two?” Her voice catches on the words.

She likes him.

Giving her arm a squeeze, I say, “No. Thanks for looking out for me. I appreciate you.”

I hurry to grab my things and a grateful sigh leaves my lips when I find Simon waiting for me out back. “Ready?” He grins over at me as I slip into the passenger seat.

“Ready.” I mimic, pulling my seatbelt on and taking a deep breath. He’d offered to drop me off this week so I make curfew.

Instead of asking me questions about talking with Marcello or being done later than usual, he gives me my space, and unlike most people, I like him.

The radio plays low through the car, rain dusting the windscreen as we drive in silence. Hannah’s words play on repeat in my mind

“They’re dangerous men.” Her warning should strike fear inside me, but giddy excitement bubbles to the surface.

I kind of like danger.

“Are you getting out or…?” Simon’s voice jars me from my thoughts, I hadn’t realized we pulled up.

“Sorry.” I giggle, leaning over to dump a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for the ride.” I call, stepping out into the rain I make