Page 88 of Princess of Vengeance

A cold smile spreads across Imogen’s face. “Exactly.”

We spend a little more time strategizing—discussing potential approaches for each Syndicate member, timelines, and contingencies if someone refuses to join us. Imogen is meticulous, considering angles I wouldn’t have thought of. It makes me even more confident that she’s the right ally for this fight.

Eventually, though, I know I need to go. I’ve been here longer than I intended, and I still have another couple of stops to make.

“I should be going,” I say, reluctantly standing. “The longer I stay, the more questions it will raise.”

Imogen nods. “We’ll talk more soon.”

Princess has returned to my lap at some point during our conversation, purring contentedly as I stroke her soft fur. I gently set her aside as I stand up, but she immediately winds around my ankles, making a soft mewling sound.

Imogen rolls her eyes. “Take her with you.”

I blink in surprise. “What?”

“The cat. Take her.” Imogen waves a dismissive hand. “She clearly likes you more than me, and I’m tired of finding cat hair on my clothes.”

“Are you sure?”

She huffs, as if annoyed at having to explain herself. “Look at her. She’s practically begging you to take her home. Besides…” She glances toward the window, avoiding my gaze. “She deserves to be somewhere safer than here.”

Despite her effort to sound bored and annoyed with the cat, I can see through the act. She’s softer on the inside than she lets on, and she’s looking out for Princess, making sure she’s cared for if things go sideways with our coup attempt.

“And anyway,” she adds, more practically, “you don’t need an excuse to come visit me anymore. We have actual business to discuss.”

I smile, genuinely touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Imogen.”

“Don’t make it a thing,” she says, but there’s a faint smile on her lips. “It’s just a cat.”

“Still.” I bend down to scoop Princess into my arms. “Thank you.”

She walks me to the door. “I’ll contact you when I’ve spoken with Cassandra. If anyone asks why we’re meeting, we’ll say I’m consulting on the renovation of your tattoo parlor. My casinos have certain aesthetic elements that might interest you.”

I nod, appreciating the solid cover story. “Perfect.”

As I turn to leave, she catches my arm. “Be careful,” she warns. “Malcolm is dangerous on a good day. If he senses any change in you…”

“I know,” I say quietly. “I can handle him.”

She searches my eyes, then nods once. “I believe you can.”

A few minutes later, I’m back in the SUV with Princess cradled in my arms. I catch the driver eyeing me in the rearview mirror, his gaze flickering between my face and the cat.

“Is there a problem?” I ask, keeping just enough of Malcolm’s wife’s entitlement in my tone to make him uncomfortable.

“No, Mrs. Mercer,” he says, eyes snapping back to the road. “I just… the cat…”

“Take me to the tattoo parlor,” I direct, stroking Princess as she kneads my thighs with her paws. “Now.”

He hesitates. “I should inform Mr. Mercer about the cat?—”

“You think Malcolm wants a detailed report about a cat?” I laugh, deliberately trying to sound condescending. “But fine, if you must know, I’m dropping her off at the parlor with one of my members.”

The driver frowns slightly. “You’re not bringing it back to the house?”

I give him a look that suggests I’m questioning his intelligence. “Have you seen Malcolm’s furniture? His Moroccan silk rugs? His meticulous taste in decor?” I shake my head. “As much as I enjoy this little creature’s company, I’m not risking his expensive antiques getting covered in cat hair. Or worse.”

The driver nods, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. “Yes, ma’am.”

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