Page 5 of Goldsin

One look from him and I feel things I’m not supposed to. Not ever.

It’s just a look . . .

But it’s one I haven’t felt in years.

“Wise words,” the man murmurs in agreement, licking his fingers. “Very wise indeed.”

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The night drags on, and I start to itch with the pestering thought that DeMarco’s body is still upstairs and at any minute someone could find it.

What if I messed something up? What if they can trace his death backto me?

I try to distract myself with every loose-lipped guest, but no one seems to hold anything of value. They clearly believe I do, charming me into spilling every Harrow secret.

Gathering information is more boring than I thought.

“Ah, there she is.” A smooth voice interrupts my train of thought as I approach the bar.

I know that voice. The sweet tone is a pretense as it slithers down my body, stiffening it, stealing the serenity away from me and leaving me on my toes for what’s to come.

Not bothering to turn to my right, I pretend to ignore Adrian as he leans against the polished walnut counter. But we’re standing so close to one another it’s hard to ignore him completely.

He doesn’t waste time. If he’s talking to me, there must be a reason, and since getting me into bed isn’t one, there must be something else he wants. And I don’t like how uneasy it makes me feel.

Adrian studies me carefully, the ice cubes gently knocking on his glass as he twirls it in his hand. “Enjoying the festivities?” His lips curve into a lopsided smile.

Not good.That smile is never a good sign.

“I can’t complain.” I finally turn to face him. “Your family certainly knows how to throw a party.” I match his tone with practiced ease.

“I have to admit, I find these events somewhat boring. The same faces, the same conversations—it all becomes dull after a while. Don’t you agree?”

“Dull” seems like the correct word coming from Adrian. Our relationship was dull. His love for me was dull. And the sex ...

Actually, “dull” seems too exciting a word.

“Depends on the company.” I try to hide my smirk. Instead I pick up a champagne flute from the ones left on the bar for guests to take.

He follows my every move, and I see the gears turning in his head before he glances past me.

“Speaking of which.” He tilts his chin at something behind me. “It seems my father has taken an interest in tonight’s proceedings.”

Following his gaze, I suppress the urge to stiffen as I spot Julian and Lucian Harrow locked in what appears to be an intense conversation.

Is this another one of their family feuds, or is this about DeMarco?

Lucian’s jaw is clenched. His ice-blue eyes narrow slightly. He’s visibly irritated, yet he maintains a polite façade.

“Family business?” I ask, turning back to Adrian.

“Something like that. My father has a habit of involving himself in matters that don’t concern him. It’s a trait Julian and I both find ... tiresome. But you already know that.”

Why is he telling me this? Why does it feel like we’re talking about something else?

How can I exploit it to my advantage?

“Tell me,” Adrian continues, “what do you make of all this? The wealth, the power, the constant maneuvering for position.”

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