Page 113 of The Scarab's Game

Emmett

I headed backto the auction room. The lightness in my chest at the prospect of seeing Jenn warred with the pressing need to get her out of the Casino. Before handing security my invitation, I cast one last glance at Martine’s office. No sign of Noah. The absence of his smug face should have been reassuring, but it only heightened my unease.

My team had done their job well—snagged both the scarab and the disc without triggering any alarms.

Not just minor irritants anymore, are we, Noah?

Once inside, I immediately checked the spot where I’d left Jenn. She wasn’t there. A quick scan of the room yielded nothing. No flash of gold dress, no glimpse of her radiant smile.

Where are you?

Dante stalked toward me, his usual frown—at least for me, since he was all smiles for Jenn—morphed into barely concealed anger.

“Whoareyou?” Dante demanded, his accent thickening with emotion.

What game was he playing?

“Emmett Stone,” I replied, falling back on my cover. “Antiquities?—”

“Che cazzo.” Dante’s hand sliced through the air, cutting off my practiced introduction. “You and Noah Pierce—how do you know each other?”

Pierce? We’d assumed Noah had been using an alias since we hadn’t been able to find any trace of him under Noah Turnbull, since we discovered he was alive and well.

“That’s none of your concern,” I said, keeping my voice level.

Dante’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with anger. “Are you two here to check up on me?”

“You two?” I asked, genuinely confused. Was he talking about Noah and me?

A bitter smile twisted Dante’s lips. “It’s always a pretty woman.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, still searching the room for Jenn. Had she stepped out, and I missed her? Passed right by her? Maybe she’d seen the commotion outside the ladies’ room? Not something I wanted to have to explain to her.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he spat, ignoring my words.

“And I don’t have time for this.” I tried to push past him, but Dante’s hand landed square on my chest, stopping me in my tracks.

“You can tell my father I’m holding onto his secrets,” he growled, leaning in close. “He can stop sending his little spies.”

Spies? Massimo’s secrets?

Noah’s cryptic warning about the break-in at Jenn’s hotel room came back to me—Enzo thought Jenn was trying to seduce Dante to get at Massimo. How did this all fit together?

“Listen, Dante,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. We needed to leave before Noah could retaliate. “I don’t care what you think is going on, but I need to find Jenn right now. Have you seen her?”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “Because our mutual friend’s going to wander in here any second, and I’d rather not be here for it.”

Dante’s face contorted. “Friend?”

“Noah.”

A flash of disgust crossed Dante’s face. “He’s not my friend.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “I thought you were working with him?”

“You’re the one”—as the words left my mouth, I knew they were wrong—“working with him.”

Dante’s disgust deepened. “I’m not working with any of those?—”

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