Courting Death: The House of Marchese Saga, Book Two by Sarah Reynolds

Author:Sarah Reynolds [Reynolds, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ychews
Published: 2023-06-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty Seven

Shit Stirring

— Sunday —

He’s cute as a damn button, and almost small enough to throw in my purse and take home with me. Ben gives me a look, but I’m already so entranced by the foyer that it hardly registers. Buttons disappears with our luggage as I turn in circles, gawking like a tourist.

There’s a twenty-foot Christmas tree, and it’s decorated entirely in cameos. Antique cameos—brooches and pendants—in ivory, shell, coral, agate, and alabaster are suspended from gold chains. Long strands of pearls loop the tree as well. If they’re all real. I mean… It’s a multi-million-dollar tree. To distract myself from touching the tree, because I really want to, I take in the rest of the room, the plaster cabbage roses over the arched doorways and elaborate molding at the tops of the columns spread around the room. Then, I look up.

“Look at those vaults!” My head is thrown back so I can admire the stonework on the high ceilings, like the ribs of a giant holding up the floors above us.

A smooth male voice intrudes. “They’re called stellar vaults.” Oh, we have something in common. He likes to tell people things they already know, too.

“Oh yes, I know. They’re gorgeous. I’ve seen the fan vaults in Prague, but these are so lovely without veering into that busy rococo space.”

“Memphis Argyros, how delightful to meet you.” Memphis is a dead-ringer for my favorite Salvatore brother. A quick scan of his emotions is enlightening. He’s plotting and working angles. Predatory and self-satisfied. I wonder if he’s going to pretend to be a good guy or own his darkness. Own the darkness, it’s a better look.

“Sunday Prescott. I’m Grayson Marchese’s fiancée.” I hold out my hand and he performs an elaborate bow and kisses my knuckles. Then, he waits for a beat. Perhaps I’m supposed to swoon. That ain’t gonna happen.

“This is Ben Haller, my fated mate; and Tomas Thorne…”

“Tom and I are well acquainted.” Tomas’ face says differently. “Your fated mate, you say? How did Uncle Gray take that news?” The self-satisfied smirk isn’t a good look for him.

“Uncle Gray, being a person of incredible foresight and pragmatism, saw the advantage of having a true shifter in his mate group. So, where is the rest of the family?” He back-pedals, immediately. I assume he was sent out here to make me feel unbalanced and more prone to over-sharing—and didn’t that work a treat for him?

“I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Sometimes, my kind speaks rather plainly, and we’re inadvertently offensive.”

“Mr. Argyros, I welcome frankness. What I don’t care for is shit-stirring or insult by implication.”

“Apologies. Forgive my blundering, please. Let’s join the others with a clean slate. I’m often foolish in the presence of beautiful women.” He winks, and it’s, well—it could be termed devastating if I cared at all for his opinion or desired his interest. He holds out an arm for me. I smile and ignore it as Ben steps up beside me, positively glowering at Memphis Argyros.

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