Page 23 of Silent Schemes
“You wanted to be seen.”
“I wanted you to know that I know everything,” she replies, tapping the glass. “In case you needed to run.”
I shake my head. “I don’t run.”
She watches me in the mirror.
I watch her back.
The whole conversation is a double reflection, neither of us willing to show the real angle.
She sets her hand on the bar, palm down.
The nail polish matches the dress, perfect and deliberate. “You think you’re untouchable.”
I grin. “No one’s untouchable. But some are harder to reach.”
She considers that. “You’re expecting me to try something tonight.”
I nod.
“Do you want me to?”
I finish my drink, pour another. “Depends on what.”
She tilts her head, bares her neck. An invitation, or a dare. “I could kill you right now.”
“Try,” I say, barely above a whisper.
Her hand flashes to her thigh.
The blade is out, edge glinting under the chandelier.
She holds it low, pointed at my femoral artery.
I laugh. “You wouldn’t.”
She shakes her head, almost regretful. “Not here. Too public.”
“You’re not as cold as your father says,” I tell her. “Besides, I cleared the bar out so you’d get your shot.”
She flicks the blade shut, sets it on the bar between us. “Maybe I enjoy the hunt.”
We stare at each other for a long time.
The bartender doesn’t come back. No one does.
“I could offer you a deal,” I say.
She smiles, teeth sharp. “You don’t have anything I want, Mr. Bane.”
“Sure about that?”
She glances at the bottle, then back to me. “You have power. You have leverage. But I don’t want your empire. I want your blood on the floor.”
I stand, slow.
She tenses, hand close to the knife again.
