I cringed as though he’d slapped me. This was the second time Casimir had probed into my motivations for helping August. But he hadn’t been there when everything went to shit, when my father died and I didn’t eat or leave my room for days on end. How could I explain that I was sick? That losing someone only made me love them more? On some level, I knew I was using August as a convenient shield to maintain a healthy distance from Casimir. I simply couldn’t afford another romantic catastrophe.
“No, I just… He was there for me when my father died. It’s just—” I swallowed hard. “I don’t want him to be dead. I suppose you think I’m pathetic?” I loosed a hollow laugh.
Casimir only shook his head. “I think Sinclair never deserved you.”
To that, I had no reply.
The heat that fanned across my cheeks had nothing to do with the alcohol I’d drunk, and for the first time, I caught myself wondering what Casimir’s lies would taste like. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his, as starless as an ocean, always luring me into their stygian depths.
At that moment, one of the revelers cackled, their laughter ringing high into the rafters, and the spell broke.
“It’s nearly time,” Casimir announced. A glint of danger, mingled with excitement, flashed in his eyes as he set down his glass. “Are you coming?”
I stared at him in bewilderment. “Time for what?”
“Our heist,” he stated, eyebrows raised as if this was obvious.
I hesitated, conscious of our proximity in the already heated room. I had little desire to get caught stealing jewels from Bryce’s manor. “Why do you need this necklace so badly that you’re willing to get caught?”
The arrogant smile returned to his lips. “Trust me, Farrow. I have no plans to get caught.”
I shuddered to imagine the gossip following such a scandal.
He shot me a cryptic glance. “Maybe I haven’t corrupted you thoroughly enough.”
Something in my lower abdomen pulsed at the implication. He turned to me again, his eyes resting on my third glass of champagne. A droll smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched me down the glass.
“Enough stalling, Farrow. Let’s go. I might need to use you as a distraction.”
“This is a very bad idea, and I hate you for involving me,” I retorted, and promptly drowned the lie in champagne.
Heists weren’t my usual cheap thrills, but something about the prospect of following Casimir into this adventure was—admittedly—intriguing. Casimir’s face twisted, a smile threatening to encroach upon his lips.
“Like I said, Farrow, I don’t need extraordinary abilities to know when someone is lying.” He smirked. “Come on.” He gestured for me to accompany him.
Reluctantly, I followed Casimir as he snaked his way through the throng of drunken dancers toward a small door under the staircase.
I balked. “No way I’m going down there!”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he scolded. “Bryce let slip that her family jewels are kept in a safe in the basement. Come on, hurry up.”
As it turned out, the cobweb-infested staircase led to a damp wine cellar, at the back of which sat an unassuming green safe with a silver dial. The thrum of music and voices was audible even down here.
I glanced around nervously. “What if someone catches us down here?”
“Then I’ll come up with a cover story,” he replied smoothly, leaning down to inspect the safe.
“Casimir,” I whined, “what are you doing?”
He didn’t reply, but continued to spin the dial experimentally.
“What, are you going to glamour it open?” I teased.
“No,” he said patiently, pressing an ear to the safe. “I’m listening for when the tumblers align.”
“What does that—” I began, but Casimir shushed me.
I grumbled mutinously. My neck was hurting from constantly glancing toward the top of the stairs to make sure no one was coming.