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My stomach roiled as unwanted memories flashed in my mind, but I remained silent, keenly aware that he was watching me, assessing me. I tamped down my pain, swallowing it back to that dark place I kept it, and shrugged. “I guess I learned my lesson.”
He took a sip, then slowly licked the lingering liquor from his lips. “Nothing happened after that?”
“No.” I couldn’t bear to look at him.
“Really?” he pressed.
Why wouldn’t he let this go? Or had he found other records from the Department of Children & Family Services? Ones I never wanted anyone to see. But he only waited, so I shook my head, stars dancing in the corners of my vision.
“Just checking.” He dropped the file onto the table. The interrogation was over. I sagged with relief.
I picked at the gossamer fabric, earning a sharp rap on the knuckles from one of the women. “Why do I need this, anyway?”
“Because you’re stuck with me every night for…well, forever.” Gage swished the contents of his glass, sending the brown liquor swirling dangerously close to its rim. He was still on his first glass, as if he was savoring it as much as his little game.
“And I need ball gowns for this life sentence?” I groaned when he laughed.
“It’s a little late to ask questions now, isn’t it?” He stood and crossed the room in three long strides, pausing in front of where I was being measured and trussed.
I refused to look away despite the electric charge I felt under his dark gaze. “Then I won’t ask where I’m wearing all of these fancy dresses.”
“Good, because I’m tired of all your questions.”
“You could leave,” I said with mock sweetness.
He grimaced and lifted the glass to his full lips, finally downing the liquor in a single swallow. “But I’m enjoying your company so much.”
“Why are you here?” It wasn’t exactly riveting to sit through a dress fitting.
“I enjoy when they stick you with the pins.”
I plucked one out, earning an annoyed shriek from the seamstress, and brandished it at him. “Say that again, Gage.”
“Lach,” he corrected me, but I glowered at him. His low chuckle slid between my bones. “You need the gowns for parties.”
“Parties, Lachlan?”
That seemed to irk him more than calling him Gage, so I decided to stick with it.
“Did you think I wanted to dress you up like a pretty, pretty princess for my amusement?”
I peered down at the seamstress assessing my hemline and twiddled the pin. “Are these made of iron by any chance?”
She paled, but Lachlan snatched it from my fingers. “We’ve been over this. No murder allowed.”
“With all the riddles and torment, who has time for homicide?”
“Your wardrobe isn’t suitable for court events.” He pulled a flask out of seemingly thin air and refilled his glass. “And unfortunately, we have company coming again.”
I blinked at him, my bravado faltering. “Company?”
“I’m about to seal a deal with the Infernal Court that will help with my little clover problem.”
“Problem?” The surprises kept coming. “Not ruining enough lives?”
The glass paused on the way to his lips. “Is that what you think?” He shook his head. “Clover was never meant to ruin lives. It’s simply currency. A fleeting moment of happiness in exchange for money.”
“Drugs don’t work like that. You’re thinking of chocolate.”