Page 133 of Steal My Heart
God, I love that.
“You need something to drink?” Corinne doesn’t wait for a reply, pouring Remi a glass of water.
“Maks, you’re not allergic to sweets?” Alessandra raises an eyebrow when he appears next in line. She cuts him a random chunk; an interesting choice.
D Minor. The chord of tragedy.
Not to be melodramatic, but from what I know of Maks’ background, it fits.
“Depends. Did you poison this piece?”
My sister hesitates. “That would be pretty ingenious to poison only a section of the cake. Gum paste would actually be a good medium to hide arsenic. But this is a two-layer cake, so I’m not sure if poison would soak into the bottom layer…”
Remi’s fork hovers at her mouth. Alessandra glances at her expectantly, and she smiles and takes a big bite. “Delicious.”
“She didn’t poison the cake,” I whisper in Remi’s ear, but I catch myself discreetly sniffing my piece.
My phone buzzes, and I excuse myself from the festivities. “Nic.” I answer.
“It’s done,” he says solemnly.
“Excellent.” I end the call.
My loyalty is to the boss of this family; you know that.
What I know is my cousin said “the boss,” but he never said me. What I also know is that it isn’t done, because Fabien was released on parole this morning. A supposed “recalculation” of his time served.
Remi is now behind her actual keyboard, a bluesy melody filling the room.
Joining her, I take a seat on the bench facing opposite her. “Be ready for the second part of your birthday surprise when I return.”
“I can’t believe there’s more.” She smiles, moving her fingers over the keyboard smooth as silk, never taking her eyes off mine.
“Sei la ragione di ogni mio sorriso.” I smile, pressing my lips to hers.
“What does that mean?” She asks when I pull back.
“While I’m away handling business, I need you, Al, and Nola in the panic room,” I tell her.
“Why?” Remi asks with wide eyes, ending her play.
“No!” Al shouts, eavesdropping from the kitchen.
“Just a precaution,” I lie.
Remi’s forehead bunches. “Will you be in danger?”
“No.” Not exactly danger; more a calculated risk. Remi looks like she wants to argue, and I hold up my hand. “Nonnegotiable. When I return, you’ll get your present, and then we’ll attend the Monarch ball.”
“And you’ll be with Laurie. On my birthday.” Remi frowns.
Al whistles. “You’d better come through big with that present.”
“Stop eavesdropping on my business.” I chide my sister.
“Your business sounds dumb as hell.”
Unclenching my jaw, I explain to Remi, “This is the final part of my ceremonial duties. There will be fireworks,” I promise.
