The guests were clustered around a bar stocked with hundreds of bottles of various liquors, crystal glasses, mixers, and a smattering of skewered olives. In spite of its sheer opulence, the room was tastefully adorned, clearly designed for elegant entertaining. The arching French doors opened onto a sweeping terrace where partygoers already mingled, laughing and drinking. Faded portraits of wan, ethereal women draped in Romanesque splendor hung along the walls.
The elegance of the room, however, stood in sharp contrast to the partygoers themselves. In one corner, a girl in a short green dress hurled the contents of her stomach into an ivory trash can while a group of boys snickered, lewdly eyeing her exposed undergarments. Further down the hall, a group of upperclassmen were cheering on as a smaller boy chugged a bottle of liquor.
I turned to Casimir, all business. “Bryce is dancing now. Go talk to her. See what she knows about the Keeper.”
Casimir raised his brows in surprise. “You want me to glamour her?”
I flattened him with a look. “I didn’t say that.”
“What did you mean, then?” he probed.
“I only meant you should try flirting with her. Put those hideously arrogant charms to use.”
“So, youdofind me charming?” he concluded.
I shot him an exasperated look. “I didn’t saythat, either.”
“But you’re fine with me using my glamours if it’s for the greater good, right?” Before I had a chance to retort he continued, “I’m just surprised, is all. Especially after seeing your reaction to my using magic on the librarian.”
“This is different,” I insisted. When he did not reply, I conceded with a groan of frustration.“Fine, yes. I want you to do whatever you have to—infiltrate her mind, glamour her, whatever. Just find out what she knows.”
Casimir fixed me with a strangely unreadable expression, as if I were a puzzle he had yet to solve.
“What?”
“Nothing, it’s just…I’ve never seen you be so brutal.”
“If you don’t like it, shut your eyes,” I growled.
He leaned in closer. “I never said I didn’t like it.”
My stomach did a little flip, but before I could reply, Casimir leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ll handle Bryce, you get us drinks. And for gods’ sake, they’d better have decent alcohol.”
I watched from my seat at the bar, a glass of champagne in hand, my eyes fixed on Casimir and Bryce from across the room. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but Bryce was smiling and laughing. I guzzled down the last dregs of champagne and poured myself another glass. If only I could’ve heard what they were saying.
One thing was for sure, Casimir was smooth. He leaned in seductively, tracing the curve of Bryce’s jaw with his thumb, eliciting a shiver that made her dress sparkle under the chandelier light.
Under the pretense of examining the array of rings bejeweling her delicate fingers, Casimir pressed a kiss to her hand, making her giggle. His fingers rose to twine in the gold chain at Bryce’s throat, his other dipping to curve against her waist, his body angled in a way that could only be described as predatory. And Bryce was lapping it up like a cat in heat.
I tried to ignore the unpleasant twisting in my gut while I nursed my dwindling glass of champagne.
A few minutes later, a voice spoke in my right ear. “Was one of those supposed to be for me?” Casimir was back, a distinct air of triumph about him.
I slid the glass over toward him with more force than I’d intended, frothing champagne onto the counter.
He made a face. “On second thought, I’ll have a scotch,” he said. His smile faltered at the look on my face as he reached for a bottle from behind the bar.
I shot him a look that clearly said I couldn’t care less. Red-hot rage roiled over me, heating my cheeks and threatening to simmer over. Why was I so angry with him? Hadn’t I asked him to interrogate Bryce? Hadn’t I given him permission to use whatever talents he possessed? Maybe it was because I hadn’t truly expected him to use his wilesquite so effectivelyto seduce the information out of her.
“Well?” I ground out. “Did all that flirting get us anywhere, or have you wasted both of our time?”
Casimir’s smirk faltered. “Is something the matter, Farrow?”
The serene tone with which he asked the question finally pushed my temper over the edge.
I scowled over at him. “When I told you to use your abilities to get information, I didn’t mean you had to make yourself so?—”
“Charming?” he suggested.