Page 32 of Chandelier Sin
I offered them a reassuring smile.
Aemon gestured to me. “Perfect timing, Eve.”
I approached the dais, walking with an elegantly confident stride to prove I had some authority here, too, and that no one in this room intimidated me.
I climbed the steps to reach him, feeling the intense stares from the onlookers behind me.
With feminine grace, I turned and sat on Aemon’s lap, reachingmy arm around his neck, and then studying the crowd. I refused to make eye contact with Lance, which I knew would rattle him.
Aemon wrapped his bulky arm around my waist and gripped me possessively. “Where were you?”
“Doing my own research.”
I brushed off his sinister scrutiny like it was nothing.
“I’m your eyes and ears,” I whispered.
“Yes, you are,” he said softly, and then added, “Pretty gown.”
“For you.” I planted a kiss on his cheek. “Jewel informed me I was to deal with this issue. You’re far too busy.”
He glanced over at Elle and Rachel and my gut twisted.
“Darling,” I cooed, “let me deal with them. I can get them to open up.”
He followed my gaze toward Lance.
Aemon smirked, refocusing on the silver-haired man standing before him. “You must excuse my wife, Mr. Merrill. She has demands I find hard to resist. When she asks me for something, she gets it.”
I forced a smile because that was a baldfaced lie.
I only wanted one thing, and it had been firmly denied.
With every rejection of my only desire, my heart twisted in agony, and a fragment of my soul died.
Aemon tipped up my chin. “Mr. Merrill has offered his interrogation talents.”
I was careful not to show how his comment had freaked me out.
Merrill stepped toward the dais, seemingly unafraid of the ruler of Pendulum. “Can I talk privately with you, High Chancellor? I have an offer you’ll want to hear.”
The room fell silent.
The firm arm around my waist went taut and then relaxed as Aemon considered the request.
Finally, he gestured to one of his men to lead the submissives away. They were escorted into the adjoining chamber.
“Let me deal with them,” I whispered to him. “While you speak with Lance.”
Aemon glared at me for interfering.
“Give them to me,” insisted Lance. “I’ll soon have them revealing everything about their conversation with Sinclair.”
These two men were quietly facing off with each other—men who were used to getting whatever they wanted, both with dark tastes and darker moods.
I squeezed Aemon’s hand to refocus his attention back on me.
I used a fluttering of lashes, a pout, an innocent head tilt, which often worked on Aemon when he was in a reasonable mood.
