Page 65 of Ruthless

I sure hope that window is soundproof.

Probably best not to dwell on it.

I squirm off Dante and fall on my side on the seat next to him. The abandoned clutch stabs my hip, but when I move it, the clasp pops open. I frown as I inspect the hardware. The borrowed designer handbag costs more than my entirewardrobe, and if it’s broken, I’m going to be in hot water. A white object catches my eye, and I pull out a folded slip of paper.

Dante immediately snags it from my hands. “What is this?”

I sit up. “No idea. I didn’t pack anything except for lip gloss.”

Once we separate, I grab napkins from the stack by the mini fridge and a bottle of red wine. While I clean up, Dante unfolds the note.

“What does it say?” In the classiest of acts, I shove the used napkins into my clutch to dispose of later.

As he scans the contents, his entire body stiffens. By the way his jaw flexes, I’m shocked his glare doesn’t burn a hole right through the ink. “It’s fromhim.”

“Seriously?”

Grasping his arm for balance, I read over the note, too, which appears to be written in some kind of code and signed at the bottom with only a stylizedG.

My mind flashes back to the old man on the museum steps. He’s the only one who got close enough to me tonight to slip this into my purse. I was nervous a guest or employee would discover the device in my ear, so I tried to keep my distance.

I wrinkle my nose. Couldhebe the Ghost? Or was the old man merely passing along the message?

Why give the letter to me instead of Dante? The Ice Princess did seem to like me…though maybe not so much now after the scene I caused.

I peek over at Dante only to find him already watching me, his expression inscrutable.

He lifts up the letter. “Help me with this?”

The offer momentarily stuns me, and my heart threatens to burst out of my chest. Is he starting to truly trust me again? He won’t let me join the medical team, but this small win feels like progress.

Everything about tonight was tough, but somehow, we managed. I did things I never believed myself capable of, and all because I had Dante by my side. Helping him might feel daunting at times, but if I make myself valuable enough, maybe he’ll decide to keep me.

“I’m in.”

Chapter 26

Dante

As we wait for the Council in the dimly lit room, a sea of blank-faced masks swarms around me like hornets buzzing around their nest. Though most of the agenda could be handled via email, the monthly meeting is mandatory for those associated with the Council but not the Councilors themselves. In person, we form and break alliances, all with a drink in hand. The most powerful people in the country occupy the space, making decisions that could affect the lives of thousands.

Long ago, I learned that these gatherings were nothing more than a show. One intended to elicit strength, loyalty, and compliance. The attributes you displayed determined your place in the hierarchy of power. Belonging to this organization is like playing an endless chess tournament, and I’ve grown tired of being just another piece on the board.

I readjust my mask as the door in the back opens, and the Councilors step through to take their seats at the hellish dining table. The glowing red resin glows especially bright tonight, and the garish sight unsettles me more than usual.

After the intimacy Sarah and I shared, I can’t help but recall my readiness to abandon this life, back when I wanted to marry her. To leave behind these people and their twistedgames. Mytesoro’scompassion clashes violently with the people I surround myself with, forcing me to question if I ever truly belonged here. The thought triggers a surge of anxiety, prompting me to crack my knuckles to still a phantom tremor.

Capitano is in attendance tonight, his sharp, exaggerated brows and oversized mustache appearing a little too demonic for comfort. Many of the Councilmen come and go, appearing at the meetings only as business demands. I didn’t see him during my last meeting regarding Sara. The darkened eyeholes of his mask linger on me, sending uneasiness crawling over my skin. In my book, the unrequested attention of a Councilor never leads to anything good.

Shaking off the unsettling sensation, I watch as Capitano gingerly lowers himself into his seat. The careful motions remind me of my father so vividly that for the first time, I wonder just how old this man is.

Apart from the table and chairs, the room is mostly barren and bland in preparation for a potential raid. The fewer surfaces to wipe down for prints, the better, though several Renaissance-era paintings still line the walls in a subtle flex of wealth and sophistication.

After learning about my mother and her curator past, I find myself studying the pieces more closely than before.

Capitano lifts a hand, drawing my attention back to the present. “Let’s begin.”

At his gesture, a cavalcade of private waitstaff enter the room, each armed with platters of food. At first glance, I note wobbly globes of panna cotta, roasted skewers with meat and vegetables, and oysters on ice.