Page 61 of A House of Gold
“Nothing.” The words rush out. “There’s nothing you could do or say or offer that would make me want you.”
“Another lie.” His thumb traces small circles over my racing heart. “But I appreciate the commitment to it.”
I grab his wrist with my free hand, pulling his palm away from my chest. Now I’m holding both his wrists, keeping his hands away from me, and he allows it. Just stands there with that infuriating almost-smile.
“Why are you doing this?” I demand.
“Because I’m curious,” he says simply. “About you. About this.” He nods to where I’m gripping his wrists. “About what would happen if I kissed you again. Right now.”
“I’d bite you.”
“Probably.” His smile widens slightly. “But you’d also kiss me back. For just a moment, before you remembered to be angry. And that moment would be...” He leans in, voice dropping. “...fascinating.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m an immortal being made of greed and hunger who hasn’t felt genuine want in three thousand years.” He’s close enough now that I can feel his breath against my lips. “Insanity is relative.”
For a heartbeat, just one, I consider letting go. Consider seeing what would happen if I stopped fighting, stopped lying to myself, stopped pretending that his proximity doesn’t affect me.
Then I remember the vault and my grandmother’s entry in the ledger: upon completion or death, the soul belongs to the House of Gold.
The soul.
I release his wrists and step to the side, putting space between us.
“No, whatever this is, whatever you think you’re feeling, no. I’m not interested in being your experiment in desire. I’m not here to teach you how to want something. I’m here to serve my time and to protect my sister. That’s all.”
For a moment, his expression is unreadable. Then he steps back, gives me space, and the mask of casual indifference slides back into place.
“As you wish.” His voice is smooth again. Controlled. “I simply thought you might appreciate understanding why I do what I do. Why the deals, why the collection, why any of it matters.”
“I understand,” I say. “You’re starving. You’ve been starving for three thousand years. And everything you consume turns to ash in your mouth the moment you swallow it.”
He goes still. “Yes. Exactly that.”
“Then I feel sorry for you.” And I mean it. Despite everything, the vault, the contracts, I really do mean it. “But that doesn’t change what you are. Or what I am. Or that any desire you feel for me is just another kind of hunger you can’t satisfy.”
“Perhaps.” He turns away, moves back to his collection. Picks up a small sculpture, which looks Greek, a woman with flowing robes. “But I’m going to find out anyway. I have you for a year, after all. Plenty of time to see if this particular hunger is different from all the others.”
“It’s not.”
“We’ll see.” He sets the sculpture down, looks at me over his shoulder. “You should go. I have business to attend to.Thank you for being honest. For not pretending. For seeing me as what I am instead of what I appear to be.”
I don’t know what to say about that. So I just nod and leave, rushing through the maze of priceless treasures until I reach the door.
Just before I step through, I hear him speak. Quiet. Almost to himself.
“When’s the last time I wanted something? I’m still trying to remember what wanting felt like before you.”
I close the door behind me and lean against it, heart racing, skin tingling where he touched me.
This is dangerous. More dangerous than the sins I absorb, more dangerous than the angels I’m stealing from. Because Croesus isn’t just interested in me as a tool or a curiosity.
He’s interested in me as something he might actually want.
And I’m terrified of what happens when he figures out I want him back even more than he keeps suggesting.
I find Nat in the library an hour later, hunched over a book. He glances up when I approach, and whatever he sees in my face makes him close the book.
