Page 20 of Saint of the Shadows

“If our egos offend you so, why are you here?”

“Good question.” Marisol turned around. “Good night, Mr. Varian.” She headed toward the door.

“Please don’t go.” Vincent followed her. “I’m enjoying the conversation.”

He had a funny view of enjoyable conversation. Fine. She needed a verbal punching bag, and Vincent seemed up for the challenge. “You don’t understand. If you walked a mile on the Westside—or hell, a block—in your dress shoes that haven’t seen the crease of a day’s work, you wouldn’t be among the elites, congratulating yourselves on a job well done. You’d hang your head in shame because there are plenty of children left behind in my city.Left behind by a system that leaves them fighting for scraps and rewards you with obscene wealth.”

Vincent put his hand on the door handle. “Long live the revolution. Give me a moment to lock up the silverware.” His tone oozed with sarcasm.

If he went inside, she was definitely staying outside. She stomped back to the edge of the terrace. “That’s what you all think. We point out injustice, and you think we’re going to storm your palace with pitchforks.”

“Pitchfork doesn’t seem your style. Your dress suggests that you’d lure me with your beauty and stab me in the back.”

Oh please. She narrowed her eyes.

“Stab me in the front?”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Marisol had been particularly prickly to him, but then, had she been prickly to everyone tonight? She toyed with Abuelita’s cross necklace to chase away her discomfort. Any second now, he would leave, and she’d return to normal—alone on a terrace in the dead of winter. She whispered, “Si no puedes decir nada bueno, no digas nada en absoluto.”

Vincent walked back to her at the balustrade. “You were saying?”

“Something my abuelita would say to me. Sort of like if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”

“Which is why you’re out here alone at a party.”

“Something like that.” Marisol looked up from her necklace.

He looked down at his empty glass. “Tenía que ser dicho y tu lo dijiste.”

It needed to be said, and you said it. Marisol straightened. Despite the gossip noise, she knew nothing about Vincent Varian. “My friend and I talked about you. You don’t make a lick of sense to us. How could someone from such a line of scientists and doctors become... you?” Vincent’s expression seemed to relish the implied insult. However, Marisol’s gaze focused back on the city lights above the trees, toward home. “If I had what you had, I’d want to change the world.” Marisol faced Vincent, who looked at her as if a defensive layer had shed away, from sparring to surrendering. Did she wound him? “I’ll take that as my cue to shut up.”

He chortled and smoothed his hands over the top of the balustrade. “I don’t mind. Keeps my ego in check.”

Marisol looked back inside the ballroom. Whit DeWinter played around with the DJ’s headphones and turntable. She laughed, and the DJ seemed happy, too. “Seems like your date is accomplishing that just as well.”

Vincent shook his head. “Ah yes. A match made in PR Heaven.”

“She’s making you look like a chump.”

His expression turned steely. “I can handle it.”

His sonorous voice rattled her nerves. A shiver traveled through her body and ended in a tight sensation below her belly. The cold must be getting to her, not Vincent’s voice. She squeezed her thighs together. Please, not that voice.

Annie stumbled onto the terrace. “There you are.” She sounded joyous. Perhaps the champagne killed enough brain cells to forget their argument. “And I see you’ve found—Holy Mother of God—Mr. Varian.”

Thank the Lord. Drunk Annie offered the escape she needed from the siren allure of Vincent. “C’mon Annie. We should get you home.” Marisol grabbed Annie by the arm and pulled her toward the door.

Annie finagled away from Marisol and staggered toward Vincent. “Mr. Varian, I would like a sample of your DNA.”

“Annie, we’re leaving!” Marisol had to stop Annie before she further embarrassed herself.

“I’d be interested in replicating an experiment of your father’s. With your DNA.”

“For what ends?” Vincent laughed, but the tremor in it signaled that he might call security.

“For scientific progress!” Annie raised her arms to the sky, and her declaration echoed through the night.

Marisol turned to Vincent, apologizing. “Did I mention we’re leaving?”

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