Under the table, Juliette dug her long nails hard into her palms, releasing all her tension through her hands so that her expression would not give her away. He suspected. He had always suspected, long before she told her lie in that hospital, but then Juliette had shot Marshall Seo, and Tyler had had to reevaluate his instincts, unable to align why she would have killed Marshall if she was truly Roma Montagov’s lover.
Except Marshall was alive. And all along, Tyler had been right. But if he knew this, then Juliette’s role as the heiress was over, and Tyler would not even have to lead a coup. He only had to tell the truth, and the Scarlets would fall in line behind him.
“You ruined my plan, Tyler,” Juliette said evenly. “You forced me to give myself away too early. I worked so hard to gain his trust, and I had to throw it away lest you misunderstood me. You’re lucky I haven’t tattled to my parents about your uselessness.”
Tyler’s eyes narrowed. His gaze flickered to Lord and Lady Cai, realizing that her parents did not have the full picture of the hospital, just like the rest of the city. It would have been impossible to keep the rumors away from them, but as far as they knew, Juliette and Tyler had shown up to that White Flower confrontation as a united force.
The thought was almost laughable. But it didn’t raise questions.
“Lucky,” Tyler echoed. “Sure, Juliette.” With a brief shake of his head, he turned away, engaging with the aunt beside him in Shanghainese.
Juliette, however, couldn’t lapse back into the casual socializing at the table. Her ears were a roar of noise, head buzzing with the threat lining every word of that conversation. There were goose bumps all along her neck, and even as she pulled her dress tighter around herself, clutching at the fur around her throat, she could not fool herself into thinking that it was merely the cold blowing in.
It was fear. She was deathly afraid of the power Tyler held over her after what he had witnessed at that hospital. Because he was right: he really did have reason to uproot her. Tyler would do all in his power to ensure the survival of the Scarlet Gang, while Juliette no longer had a single desire to be fighting the blood feud, not when it was so damn pointless. Let them both voice their truths to Lord Cai, and who would he choose to be heir?
Juliette reached for the liquor bottle passing on the spinning glass and poured a splash into her teacup. Without caring who was watching her, she choked it down.
“You’re hitting too high.”
Roma jabbed Alisa in the armpit, and she yelped, darting back several steps. Her scowl was half-hearted, shoulders coming up to her ears as she hunched into herself. Roma resisted his sigh, only because he knew Alisa would be annoyed if he seemed irritated by her slow progress.
“You said you were teaching me self-defense,” she grumbled, smoothing down her hair.
“I am.”
“You’re just—” Alisa waved around her hands, trying to imitate Roma’s fast movements. “It’s not very helpful.”
A breeze floated in from Alisa’s window, and Roma walked toward it, pulling down the pane to keep the cold out. He didn’t say anything as he huffed a breath onto the glass. He only blew until there was considerable mist, and then with his finger, he drew a little face that was smiling.
“Is that supposed to be motivating?” Alisa asked, watching over his shoulder.
He reached over to pinch her cheeks. “It’s supposed to be you. Tiny and annoying.”
Alisa smacked his hands away. “Roma.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t like spending time with his sister, but he had a suspicion she was asking for these lessons only to distract him from his other tasks. And it wasn’t that he didn’t like hanging around with his sister instead of tending to his other tasks, but he was also sure the little scamp had schemed this up only to prevent him from guarding their territory lines, not because she actually wanted to learn how to punch an attacker.
“This is very important, you know,” Alisa said now, as if she could sense where his train of thought was going. “I was in a coma for so long. I cannot be weak! I must know how to punch bad men!”
A thump came through the floor. It was either a sitting room in the house growing too raucous, or someone on the level below throwing knives at the wall. Roma heaved an exhale, then positioned Alisa, making her hold her arms out.
“Okay. Try again then. Keep your fist tight.”
Alisa tried again. And again. And again. No matter what she did, her blocks were flimsy and her efforts at striking Roma when he pretended to grab her were soft and wobbly.