Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(64)

Feeling bold at the admission, he reached up and ran his fingers along a strand. It was softer than he’d thought it would be, which was odd, since Gideon tended to make things better in his head than they were in reality. This, unfortunately, was one of those moments where his expectations had been far too low. This woman wasn’t just extraordinary. She was extraordinarily dangerous.

“You don’t cut it.” They both knew what he was talking about.

Keeley stiffened, something shutting down in her eyes, elbowing him hard as she shoved him away. “No, I don’t, and that is none of your business.”

He shrugged. “Fair enough, dimples.”

Keeley rolled her eyes, but her lips moved up just slightly. “I do not have dimples.”

Gideon gestured in the air, unimpressed. “Prove it.”

She was fighting the smile now—he could tell. “No.”

Gideon leaned in, looking deadly serious. “My socks have little goats on them.”

Almost there. “So?”

He looked side to side and then whispered, “One of the maids got them for me from The Villain’s sock drawer.”

There it was. Keeley’s smile. Fully beaming, beautiful, and absolutely devastating. The worst thing that had ever happened to him, really.

“Liar,” Gideon said, pointing at two indents on her cheeks.

She beamed wider, and the dimples went deeper. “Fine, I’m a liar.” She brushed past him and spun around. “You may come with us, but do not interfere in any way or I will not hesitate to run you through.”

Gideon saluted. “Understood.”

It was a damn shame that he found he enjoyed her far more than he should, considering the real reason he had followed them.

Liar, he’d accused her.

But not because of her dimples. No, he’d known she had those.

Gideon liked Keeley a great deal. And it was a damn shame, since he was fairly certain she was the traitor. He followed behind her, watching her braid sway, the singed bit tucked away and out of view. And as that beautiful braid caught stray beams of moonlight in a glimmer that cut his breath short, he grappled with what he’d have to do if his suspicion proved true.





Chapter 42


Evie


“Are you sure it’s supposed to be this, um…constricting?” Evie asked the woman currently pulling the corset strings at her back so tight her breaths were coming in short, uneven spurts.

“Yes, Ms. Sage.” The older woman was no-nonsense. Terrible, considering that’s all Evie seemed to be made of.

“Excellent.” She wheezed. “As long as you’re sure!” She wheezed again, and the door burst open to reveal Tatianna with large, draping wings, shimmering like rainbow flower petals on her back. She was truly a vision.

“Mrs. Ryeford? I believe Lord Fowler was looking for you,” Tati said. “An issue with the dinner menu, I’m afraid.” Mrs. Ryeford let out a few choice words that made the tops of Evie’s ears turn pink. She’d never heard such unabashed, shameless words come out of such an unlikely character. It was delightful!

Evie began pulling at the strings on her back as soon as the woman exited the room, and when she finally could breathe again, she dropped to Tatianna’s feet and dramatically sucked in large gulps of air. “I owe you my life. I think she was trying for death by corset.”

Tatianna frowned, helping Evie to her feet. “It would be far more efficient to choke you with a scarf than suffocate you with a corset.”

“That was my concern, too,” Evie said, letting the corset drop to the floor and kicking it to the other side of the room. “I do enjoy a corset, but not laced to the degree of pain.” She straightened out the wrinkled chemise she wore and took a good look at her friend.

The theme of the party was “magical beings,” and Tatianna fit the bill in the most glittering, stunning way possible. She was clad from head to toe in a shimmering drape of pinks and oranges, an iridescent gold glitter dusting the tops of her cheeks and her hair pinned back by two thick rose gold pins.

“You look so beautiful.” Evie gestured for her to spin. The healer acquiesced with a flourish, laughing a little as she did.

“Thank you.” Tatianna preened, then quickly frowned. “I shouldn’t be enjoying myself so much under the circumstances, but I do love a reason to dress up.”

“Nonsense!” Evie blew air out of her lips. “Who said a work excursion couldn’t be enjoyable?”

Tatianna raised a brow. “Becky, probably.”

With a giggle, Evie went to the wardrobe and opened it, taking her own shimmering dress in hand. “Since we’re here and these people are our allies, we may as well enjoy the party. We need to earn Lord Fowler’s wand, and unless one of us sprouts wings, we’re stuck here until he returns us to the ground.” She shifted nervously. “How high up do you think we are, anyway?”

“High enough that jumping would kill you.”

“Oh, dear.” Evie draped the dress across the large bed and patted the space beside her, motioning for Tatianna to sit. The healer did so slowly, trepidation in each step. The smile fell slowly from Evie’s lips. “Something else is wrong, isn’t it?”

Tatianna picked at her nails. “I don’t tell secrets—I keep them. But this one is eating at me, and I can’t talk to Trystan or Clare about it, so I must tell you.”