The Spider
Page 25
“Yes,” I said simply. “I did.”
I didn’t tell her that I was sorry, even though I was. I didn’t tell her that it was what I did as an assassin. I didn’t tell her that it was simply my own way of surviving and trying to quiet the screams in my own soul. Of trying to protect her the way that I’d so miserably failed to protect Bria all those years ago. In the end, my reasons didn’t matter. All that did matter was that I’d killed her father and that she hated me for it.
But she couldn’t possibly hate me as much as I loathed myself at this moment for taking an innocent man away from the daughter he’d been trying to protect.
Charlotte slowly backed away from me, as if she thought I was going to lunge forward and stab her with my knife. Then she whirled around and darted down the hallway, running away from me as fast as she could, each soft footfall stabbing into my chest like a red-hot poker. I watched her go, my stomach churning, churning, churning with guilt and my heart aching for how much pain I’d caused her.
My head spun around, as that languid fog threatened to take hold of me again, and I staggered back, bumping into the wall and rattling a photo there. Ironically enough, it was a picture of Sebastian in one of his business suits, smiling at the camera, although now his grin seemed more cruel than kind, his expression more smug than happy.
Sebastian . . . Sebastian knew what was going on. He was the one I needed to find, the one I needed to get answers from.
My hand tightened around the hilt of my knife—one way or another.
I pushed away from the wall and wobbled down the hallway until I reached the library. It wasn’t that far, but I didn’t pass a single soul. No guards, no housekeepers, no stuffy butlers, no one. Noise drifted up from the floor below, though. Clinking dishes, the scrape of furniture, the snap and rustle of garbage bags. The staff must all have been in the ballroom, cleaning up from Sebastian’s soiree.
I passed another set of windows. Through the glass, I could see that most of the cars had vanished, meaning that the party was over and everyone had gone home, like Charlotte had said. That fact only made me more curious about who had stayed behind to meet with Sebastian.
Well, I was going to find out.
It took me longer than it should have, since I was staggering around like a drunken sailor on shore leave, but I eventually reached the library doors. For a moment, I thought about sneaking out one of the windows and trying to cling to the side of the building like I’d done at Dawson’s mansion, but that option was foolish at best. I could barely keep my feet under me. There was no way that I had the strength to hang on to the outside of the building for any length of time, much less pull myself across the stone and over to one of the library windows.
But I didn’t have to, because the doors were wide open, the murmur of voices drifting outside to me. I recognized the deep timbre of Sebastian’s tone, but the voice that responded seemed a bit lighter.
I eased up to the doors and glanced inside, but whoever was in there with Sebastian was deeper in the library. They must be on the right side, gathered around Cesar’s desk—Sebastian’s desk now.
And I was the one who’d made it his.
I eased through the open doors and tiptoed over to the fireplace. I made sure to stay in the shadows as I peered around the corner of the stone.
Sebastian stood next to the desk, one hip resting on the edge of the antique wood, his legs stretched out in front of him, looking as casual, relaxed, and handsome as ever—if the devil could ever be considered handsome. He held a snifter of brandy in his hand, slowly swirling the amber liquid around and around. He lifted the glass to his nose and drew in a deep, satisfied breath before taking a small sip.
Savoring his victory, in so many ways.
I forced my gaze to move past him to Porter, who was leaning against one of the bookcases in the back of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, standing by like the perfect bodyguard. The giant kept his gaze trained on the person sitting in a chair in front of the desk, his bulky body tense, as though he was on high alert and expecting trouble at any moment.
“Well, I must admit that you’ve pulled this whole thing off quite brilliantly,” a low, throaty voice murmured.
I recognized the voice, and that strange, sinking sense of déjà vu swept over me again.
Mab Monroe stood up and walked over to Sebastian.
22
Mab moved over so that she was standing next to Sebastian. But instead of being intimidated by her, as he’d seemed to be in Dawson’s library, he gave her a smug grin.
“Well, that’s saying a lot, coming from you,” he replied. “Cheers to our new partnership. May it be fruitful . . . in so many ways.”
Sebastian held his glass out, and Mab clinked her brandy snifter against his. Sebastian sidled even closer to her, his smile widening when she tipped her head up instead of taking a step back. I knew that move; I knew that look. He’d given them both to me more than once over the past few weeks. The casual, slightly cocky saunter, the smoldering smile, the deep, dark, liquid stare. I thought I was the only woman Sebastian had ever looked at that way.
I was beginning to realize just how very wrong I was—about a great many things.
Sebastian leaned in even closer, like he was actually going to lower his lips to Mab’s, but she held up her finger, and a single red-hot spark shot up into the air between them like a firecracker. It was enough to make Sebastian flinch and step back.
“Don’t think that your pretty smile and clumsy attempts at charm will have any effect on me,” Mab said. “This is a business arrangement. Nothing more. Unlike some people in this room, I don’t sleep with the help.”
Sebastian’s eyes glittered with anger, but he made an obvious effort to rein in his temper, given whom he was talking to. Smart move, although I was starting to wish that Mab would go ahead and fry him on the spot, given what he’d done to Charlotte and his father.
And what I was beginning to realize he’d done to me too.
But Sebastian wasn’t easily daunted, and he leaned in again. “You don’t know what you’re missing,” he murmured. “It’s great fun sleeping with the help. You should try it sometime.”
Mab’s black gaze flicked over his body, cold and dismissive. “Doubtful. But do keep trying to persuade me. It seems you enjoy the thrill of the chase as much as I do.”
He smirked his agreement.
“But on to the business at hand,” Mab said, taking a sip of her brandy. “Your speech at the party seemed to go over quite well. You shouldn’t have any problems taking over your father’s company now. I’ll admit that when you first approached me with your little scheme, I had serious doubts that it would work.”
“Really? Why was that?”
“It was far too complicated,” Mab said. “Hiring an assassin to murder your father seemed a bit much, especially when you could simply arrange for him to have an accident at one of his job sites.”
I sucked in a breath. I’d suspected it as soon as I’d seen the bruise on Charlotte’s arm, but it was another thing to have confirmation. Sebastian—Sebastian was the one who’d hired me to kill his own father.
Once again, the thought that I’d murdered an innocent man devastated me, and I had to bend over double and clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from throwing up. It didn’t stop the tears from trickling down my face, though, each one as cold and frozen as my heart.
Sebastian shrugged. “Yes, well, I wouldn’t have even had to hire that assassin if the old man had agreed to step down following the restaurant incident like I wanted him to.”
“Something that you conveniently arranged to push your father out of his own company,” Mab shot back. “How did you get that terrace to collapse?”
He gave her another smug grin. “That’s my little secret.”
“Too bad it didn’t work out like you’d hoped.”
“I thought the public pressure would be too great, that he would get forced out immediately or simply resign out of guilt that one of his precious projects wasn’t as strong as he thought. But of course, my father ended up being a bit more . . . stubborn than I anticipated.”
“Which is why you went out and hired yourself an assassin. Another needless complication. Why not take care of your father yourself? Afraid of getting your hands dirty?” Her voice took on a mocking note.
“Hardly.” Sebastian sneered. “But my father is not without friends. Him having an accident, especially after the terrace collapse, would have raised even more questions. This way, it looks like one of the family members of the victims killed him or hired someone to do it for them. Not me.”
Sebastian had wanted to take over his father’s company, so he’d arranged the terrace collapse, which meant that he was responsible for the deaths and injuries of those innocent people at the restaurant—not Cesar.
More guilt roiled in my stomach, along with deep, dark, unending shame at what I’d done. I’d been so cocky, so arrogant, so damn righteous in my desire to kill Cesar that I hadn’t thought things through, like Fletcher had wanted me to. As a result, I’d given Sebastian exactly what he wanted.
I was such a fool.
Mab shook her head, making her coppery hair float around her shoulders before it settled perfectly back into place. “Yes, but the assassin could always trace the payment back to you and use it to blackmail you further down the line.”
“Don’t worry about the assassin. She’s passed out in my bed right now.”
I sucked in another breath and straightened up. Sebastian knew that I was an assassin, knew that I’d murdered his father. He’d known the whole damn time.
Mab’s eyes narrowed with interest. “‘She’? The assassin is a woman? Do tell.”
“Oh, yes.” Sebastian practically purred with triumph. “You’re absolutely right about the possibility of blackmail, so ever since I reached out to this assassin, I’ve been keeping an eye out for anyone new in my father’s life. And lo and behold, a few days after I put down the deposit, I see a young woman snooping around.”
He went on to tell Mab how he’d found me lurking in the hallway outside the library at Dawson’s mansion. I cursed my own carelessness. I should have made sure that everyone was gone from the library before I’d slipped back inside the building, but I hadn’t, and it had cost me—even if I wasn’t quite sure how high the price was going to be yet.
He finished his story, and Mab arched her eyebrow.
“And you think that some random waitress is really an assassin in disguise? That’s a bit thin, darling.”
For the first time, a bit of doubt flickered in Sebastian’s face. “Well, I don’t know for sure that she’s the assassin, but she was outside the library at Dawson’s mansion after your meeting with my father. That can’t be a coincidence. And you should see the rest of her family. They’ve all been giving me the evil eye ever since I cozied up to her.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Mab drawled. “Given your oh-so-honorable intentions toward her.”
“Something’s going on with them, and I intend to find out what it is.”
“And how did you lure this supposed assassin into your bed?”
His face twisted into a sneer. “It was quite easy, actually. Seems she’s a bit starved for attention, poor thing. All I had to do was play the part of the doting suitor. She was practically eating out of my hand.”
Sebastian told Mab about all our dates, mocking all the time we’d spent together. I closed my eyes, my stomach turning over, but I couldn’t shut out the sound of his voice. He sneered as he told her about all the times he’d looked into my eyes, all the sweet words he’d said, all the lies he’d told me. And then he laughed—he threw back his head and laughed and laughed, as if fooling me so completely was the most amusing thing he’d ever done.
Mab joined in with his self-satisfied chuckles, but her face quickly became thoughtful once more. “And what if you’re wrong? What if your little waitress isn’t the assassin you think she is? What are you going to do then?”
“Kill her, of course, along with the rest of her family, just so there are no loose ends,” Sebastian said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Porter is sending some of his men to take care of her father and her brother after we wrap up here.”
My heart seized in my chest. He was going after Fletcher and Finn too. All because of me. All because I’d been too blind to see who and what he really was.
A monster.
“Well, it’s good that you’re tying up things, just in case,” Mab said. “But don’t you want to string her along a bit longer? See what else she might tell you? If there’s one thing that assassins have, it’s access to other people’s secrets.”
Sebastian shrugged. “I’ve f**ked her all I care to. She’s of no further use to me.”
My world shattered with every single cruel thing he said. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t even cry anymore. All I could do was just stand there and feel sicker and sicker at how thoroughly, how totally, how absolutely he’d fooled me. Sebastian Vaughn had been playing me this whole time, this whole damn time. Every heated word he’d said, every soft look he’d given me, every tiny tear he’d shed for his supposedly beloved papa.
Lies—all of it damn, dirty, rotten, heartless lies.
Even as my heart splintered into smaller and sharper pieces, the rage began to build brick by solid brick in its place, clearing the rest of the drugged fog from my mind. Rage that Sebastian had used me. It wasn’t just that he’d hired an assassin to kill his father. That was rather commonplace in Ashland. So was trying to double-cross said assassin somewhere along the way. But to go to such trouble to seduce me after the fact and now to be targeting Finn and Fletcher too . . .
I didn’t tell her that I was sorry, even though I was. I didn’t tell her that it was what I did as an assassin. I didn’t tell her that it was simply my own way of surviving and trying to quiet the screams in my own soul. Of trying to protect her the way that I’d so miserably failed to protect Bria all those years ago. In the end, my reasons didn’t matter. All that did matter was that I’d killed her father and that she hated me for it.
But she couldn’t possibly hate me as much as I loathed myself at this moment for taking an innocent man away from the daughter he’d been trying to protect.
Charlotte slowly backed away from me, as if she thought I was going to lunge forward and stab her with my knife. Then she whirled around and darted down the hallway, running away from me as fast as she could, each soft footfall stabbing into my chest like a red-hot poker. I watched her go, my stomach churning, churning, churning with guilt and my heart aching for how much pain I’d caused her.
My head spun around, as that languid fog threatened to take hold of me again, and I staggered back, bumping into the wall and rattling a photo there. Ironically enough, it was a picture of Sebastian in one of his business suits, smiling at the camera, although now his grin seemed more cruel than kind, his expression more smug than happy.
Sebastian . . . Sebastian knew what was going on. He was the one I needed to find, the one I needed to get answers from.
My hand tightened around the hilt of my knife—one way or another.
I pushed away from the wall and wobbled down the hallway until I reached the library. It wasn’t that far, but I didn’t pass a single soul. No guards, no housekeepers, no stuffy butlers, no one. Noise drifted up from the floor below, though. Clinking dishes, the scrape of furniture, the snap and rustle of garbage bags. The staff must all have been in the ballroom, cleaning up from Sebastian’s soiree.
I passed another set of windows. Through the glass, I could see that most of the cars had vanished, meaning that the party was over and everyone had gone home, like Charlotte had said. That fact only made me more curious about who had stayed behind to meet with Sebastian.
Well, I was going to find out.
It took me longer than it should have, since I was staggering around like a drunken sailor on shore leave, but I eventually reached the library doors. For a moment, I thought about sneaking out one of the windows and trying to cling to the side of the building like I’d done at Dawson’s mansion, but that option was foolish at best. I could barely keep my feet under me. There was no way that I had the strength to hang on to the outside of the building for any length of time, much less pull myself across the stone and over to one of the library windows.
But I didn’t have to, because the doors were wide open, the murmur of voices drifting outside to me. I recognized the deep timbre of Sebastian’s tone, but the voice that responded seemed a bit lighter.
I eased up to the doors and glanced inside, but whoever was in there with Sebastian was deeper in the library. They must be on the right side, gathered around Cesar’s desk—Sebastian’s desk now.
And I was the one who’d made it his.
I eased through the open doors and tiptoed over to the fireplace. I made sure to stay in the shadows as I peered around the corner of the stone.
Sebastian stood next to the desk, one hip resting on the edge of the antique wood, his legs stretched out in front of him, looking as casual, relaxed, and handsome as ever—if the devil could ever be considered handsome. He held a snifter of brandy in his hand, slowly swirling the amber liquid around and around. He lifted the glass to his nose and drew in a deep, satisfied breath before taking a small sip.
Savoring his victory, in so many ways.
I forced my gaze to move past him to Porter, who was leaning against one of the bookcases in the back of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, standing by like the perfect bodyguard. The giant kept his gaze trained on the person sitting in a chair in front of the desk, his bulky body tense, as though he was on high alert and expecting trouble at any moment.
“Well, I must admit that you’ve pulled this whole thing off quite brilliantly,” a low, throaty voice murmured.
I recognized the voice, and that strange, sinking sense of déjà vu swept over me again.
Mab Monroe stood up and walked over to Sebastian.
22
Mab moved over so that she was standing next to Sebastian. But instead of being intimidated by her, as he’d seemed to be in Dawson’s library, he gave her a smug grin.
“Well, that’s saying a lot, coming from you,” he replied. “Cheers to our new partnership. May it be fruitful . . . in so many ways.”
Sebastian held his glass out, and Mab clinked her brandy snifter against his. Sebastian sidled even closer to her, his smile widening when she tipped her head up instead of taking a step back. I knew that move; I knew that look. He’d given them both to me more than once over the past few weeks. The casual, slightly cocky saunter, the smoldering smile, the deep, dark, liquid stare. I thought I was the only woman Sebastian had ever looked at that way.
I was beginning to realize just how very wrong I was—about a great many things.
Sebastian leaned in even closer, like he was actually going to lower his lips to Mab’s, but she held up her finger, and a single red-hot spark shot up into the air between them like a firecracker. It was enough to make Sebastian flinch and step back.
“Don’t think that your pretty smile and clumsy attempts at charm will have any effect on me,” Mab said. “This is a business arrangement. Nothing more. Unlike some people in this room, I don’t sleep with the help.”
Sebastian’s eyes glittered with anger, but he made an obvious effort to rein in his temper, given whom he was talking to. Smart move, although I was starting to wish that Mab would go ahead and fry him on the spot, given what he’d done to Charlotte and his father.
And what I was beginning to realize he’d done to me too.
But Sebastian wasn’t easily daunted, and he leaned in again. “You don’t know what you’re missing,” he murmured. “It’s great fun sleeping with the help. You should try it sometime.”
Mab’s black gaze flicked over his body, cold and dismissive. “Doubtful. But do keep trying to persuade me. It seems you enjoy the thrill of the chase as much as I do.”
He smirked his agreement.
“But on to the business at hand,” Mab said, taking a sip of her brandy. “Your speech at the party seemed to go over quite well. You shouldn’t have any problems taking over your father’s company now. I’ll admit that when you first approached me with your little scheme, I had serious doubts that it would work.”
“Really? Why was that?”
“It was far too complicated,” Mab said. “Hiring an assassin to murder your father seemed a bit much, especially when you could simply arrange for him to have an accident at one of his job sites.”
I sucked in a breath. I’d suspected it as soon as I’d seen the bruise on Charlotte’s arm, but it was another thing to have confirmation. Sebastian—Sebastian was the one who’d hired me to kill his own father.
Once again, the thought that I’d murdered an innocent man devastated me, and I had to bend over double and clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from throwing up. It didn’t stop the tears from trickling down my face, though, each one as cold and frozen as my heart.
Sebastian shrugged. “Yes, well, I wouldn’t have even had to hire that assassin if the old man had agreed to step down following the restaurant incident like I wanted him to.”
“Something that you conveniently arranged to push your father out of his own company,” Mab shot back. “How did you get that terrace to collapse?”
He gave her another smug grin. “That’s my little secret.”
“Too bad it didn’t work out like you’d hoped.”
“I thought the public pressure would be too great, that he would get forced out immediately or simply resign out of guilt that one of his precious projects wasn’t as strong as he thought. But of course, my father ended up being a bit more . . . stubborn than I anticipated.”
“Which is why you went out and hired yourself an assassin. Another needless complication. Why not take care of your father yourself? Afraid of getting your hands dirty?” Her voice took on a mocking note.
“Hardly.” Sebastian sneered. “But my father is not without friends. Him having an accident, especially after the terrace collapse, would have raised even more questions. This way, it looks like one of the family members of the victims killed him or hired someone to do it for them. Not me.”
Sebastian had wanted to take over his father’s company, so he’d arranged the terrace collapse, which meant that he was responsible for the deaths and injuries of those innocent people at the restaurant—not Cesar.
More guilt roiled in my stomach, along with deep, dark, unending shame at what I’d done. I’d been so cocky, so arrogant, so damn righteous in my desire to kill Cesar that I hadn’t thought things through, like Fletcher had wanted me to. As a result, I’d given Sebastian exactly what he wanted.
I was such a fool.
Mab shook her head, making her coppery hair float around her shoulders before it settled perfectly back into place. “Yes, but the assassin could always trace the payment back to you and use it to blackmail you further down the line.”
“Don’t worry about the assassin. She’s passed out in my bed right now.”
I sucked in another breath and straightened up. Sebastian knew that I was an assassin, knew that I’d murdered his father. He’d known the whole damn time.
Mab’s eyes narrowed with interest. “‘She’? The assassin is a woman? Do tell.”
“Oh, yes.” Sebastian practically purred with triumph. “You’re absolutely right about the possibility of blackmail, so ever since I reached out to this assassin, I’ve been keeping an eye out for anyone new in my father’s life. And lo and behold, a few days after I put down the deposit, I see a young woman snooping around.”
He went on to tell Mab how he’d found me lurking in the hallway outside the library at Dawson’s mansion. I cursed my own carelessness. I should have made sure that everyone was gone from the library before I’d slipped back inside the building, but I hadn’t, and it had cost me—even if I wasn’t quite sure how high the price was going to be yet.
He finished his story, and Mab arched her eyebrow.
“And you think that some random waitress is really an assassin in disguise? That’s a bit thin, darling.”
For the first time, a bit of doubt flickered in Sebastian’s face. “Well, I don’t know for sure that she’s the assassin, but she was outside the library at Dawson’s mansion after your meeting with my father. That can’t be a coincidence. And you should see the rest of her family. They’ve all been giving me the evil eye ever since I cozied up to her.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Mab drawled. “Given your oh-so-honorable intentions toward her.”
“Something’s going on with them, and I intend to find out what it is.”
“And how did you lure this supposed assassin into your bed?”
His face twisted into a sneer. “It was quite easy, actually. Seems she’s a bit starved for attention, poor thing. All I had to do was play the part of the doting suitor. She was practically eating out of my hand.”
Sebastian told Mab about all our dates, mocking all the time we’d spent together. I closed my eyes, my stomach turning over, but I couldn’t shut out the sound of his voice. He sneered as he told her about all the times he’d looked into my eyes, all the sweet words he’d said, all the lies he’d told me. And then he laughed—he threw back his head and laughed and laughed, as if fooling me so completely was the most amusing thing he’d ever done.
Mab joined in with his self-satisfied chuckles, but her face quickly became thoughtful once more. “And what if you’re wrong? What if your little waitress isn’t the assassin you think she is? What are you going to do then?”
“Kill her, of course, along with the rest of her family, just so there are no loose ends,” Sebastian said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Porter is sending some of his men to take care of her father and her brother after we wrap up here.”
My heart seized in my chest. He was going after Fletcher and Finn too. All because of me. All because I’d been too blind to see who and what he really was.
A monster.
“Well, it’s good that you’re tying up things, just in case,” Mab said. “But don’t you want to string her along a bit longer? See what else she might tell you? If there’s one thing that assassins have, it’s access to other people’s secrets.”
Sebastian shrugged. “I’ve f**ked her all I care to. She’s of no further use to me.”
My world shattered with every single cruel thing he said. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t even cry anymore. All I could do was just stand there and feel sicker and sicker at how thoroughly, how totally, how absolutely he’d fooled me. Sebastian Vaughn had been playing me this whole time, this whole damn time. Every heated word he’d said, every soft look he’d given me, every tiny tear he’d shed for his supposedly beloved papa.
Lies—all of it damn, dirty, rotten, heartless lies.
Even as my heart splintered into smaller and sharper pieces, the rage began to build brick by solid brick in its place, clearing the rest of the drugged fog from my mind. Rage that Sebastian had used me. It wasn’t just that he’d hired an assassin to kill his father. That was rather commonplace in Ashland. So was trying to double-cross said assassin somewhere along the way. But to go to such trouble to seduce me after the fact and now to be targeting Finn and Fletcher too . . .
