The Socialite - J'nell Ciesielski Page 0,68

As if she wanted to reassure herself more than him.

Tossing back his second drink, he set the glass on the table with a clank. Kat jumped as if a shotgun had gone off. Her eyes shone in her pale face.

Say it. Say the words. Tell me you’re leaving me tomorrow. Tell me you’re leaving me right at the moment I need you.

Anger spiked in his blood. He didn’t need her. And she certainly didn’t need him. Their forged relationship was a means to an end. All he had was himself to rely on, and more the better for him. The sooner he started to bet on someone, the sooner disappointment came knocking. Life was too short for regrets.

Windowpanes rattled as more lightning tore from the storm. The lamp flashed, then, with a soft pop, went out. Darkness crashed over the room.

“Where is your dresser?”

Kat fumbled around the table, jittering the champagne bottle. “What do you need with my dresser?”

“Because there are emergency candles in there.” He didn’t bother covering the irritation in his voice as he pulled out his lighter and struck it. A dim glow burned at his fingertips.

“It’s over here.” Drawers pulled open as she shuffled through the contents. “Who puts candles in a dresser? Oh, here they are.”

Placing the stubby wax pillars on the table, he touched the lighter to the wicks. The light sprang against the walls, beating back the shadows that swarmed around them. Their dark weight pressed on him like a cage, blocking out everything except the pulse of survival. Primal and hard, it gnashed its teeth for release from the captor holding it back.

“Tell me why.”

Her intake of breath hissed in the silence. Surprise, fear, and anger splayed across her face before she yanked a curtain of defiance around her. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out the white envelope and tossed it across the table to her.

“Tell me why you did it. And don’t you dare lie to me.”

Her eyes flickered down to the envelope then back up at him. Blue steel rang in their depths. “Where did you get that?”

“The porter from the train station dropped it off at the front desk. As I was crossing the lobby to bring up this bottle of champagne, the concierge asked if I might deliver it to you. Lo and behold, I found two train tickets to Switzerland for tomorrow morning.” He jammed the lighter back into his pocket. “By the way, I’ll need back that forged document you borrowed from me. Handy bit of paper when you need Eric’s signature for travel papers, isn’t it?”

A pulse ticked wildly on the side of her neck. “You had no right.”

“I have every right when you put everything in jeopardy, especially our safety. Do you really think you’re going to make it across the border? Do you think Eric will let Ellie set one foot outside this hotel without him knowing about it? If you did manage to get her on a train, he’d have it stopped in the next town and have her carted back here under lock and key.” He gouged a hand through his hair. Of course she hadn’t thought it through. Her one single focus had been on getting Ellie, and woe to anything that got in her path. Including him. “Your devotion to your beloved sister is admirable, but entirely misplaced, considering our circumstances.”

“My sister and I don’t belong here. This is your job. I never wanted any part of it.”

“You think I want to be here? Have you spared one thought for the amount of danger you put me in with your little disappearing act? Or are your thoughts too wrapped around your helpless little sister to consider anyone else?”

“That’s not fair.”

“I’ll tell you what’s not fair. Pouring every resource I have into keeping you safe, only to have you question me at every step. You agreeing to work together and all the while plotting to slip out behind my back, leaving me to deal with the consequences. From the Germans, aye, because I guarantee Eric won’t be keen on you stealing his girlfriend from under his nose, and guess who he’ll turn his wrath on? That’s right. Me. But also from our own side. They don’t take kindly to failed missions, and guess who’ll be to blame? Me again.”

“That was never my intention, but you have to see that you’re better trained for this type of subterfuge.”

“No, you’re trained for this. Afternoon teas, fancy dinner parties, smiling and

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