Ace Of Shades: the gripping first novel in a new series full of magic, danger and thrilling scandal when one girl enters the City of Sin. Amanda Foody
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“Why do I have the feeling I need to watch out for you?” he asked.
Goodness, he’s exhausting. “I’m not helpless, you know.”
“That’s not what I meant. I meant that maybe I should watch out for you, because you seem like the kind of person someone might underestimate.”
Enne blinked in surprise. “What gave you such an idea?”
“I don’t spend my mornings helping out just any pretty missy, you know.”
Was Levi Glaisyer flirting with her? The boys in Bellamy never flirted with her unless they hoped she’d introduce them to her richer classmates. Few people paid attention to someone as common as a Salta.
He must’ve been making fun of her again. She was emotionally wrung dry, and she didn’t have the patience to watch Levi fling one smirk after another. He’d sat unaware while, in the next room, Vianca had assaulted Enne in the most terrifying way. He’d mocked her at every opportunity. He might’ve been helping her find Lourdes, but only because Enne would pay him that night.
“I’m flattered,” she sneered, her voice vicious. “Truly.”
He stiffened, wilted. “Excellent,” he said drily. “Wouldn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with a new coworker.”
The word coworker sounded stranger the more Enne let it sink in. Her teachers—and probably Lourdes, for that matter—never would have let her within fifty feet of a casino, and probably not within one hundred feet of Levi and the collection of lost things in his closet.
But the Lourdes Enne knew and the Lourdes Levi remembered seemed to be completely different people. To think that Lourdes spent so much time in this wretched city boggled Enne—disturbed her, even. Maybe Lourdes knew how to survive in New Reynes. Maybe the reason Lourdes never told her the truth was in case Enne might have been foolish enough to believe that she could survive here, too.
Her mother had been right to keep her daughter in the dark, because each hour spent in New Reynes formed a new crack, and there was no way Enne was going to emerge from this city unbroken.
Levi’s poker face didn’t waver as he studied his hand: a four-card straight and the kings of clubs and spades. Clearly luck was on his side. The player to his left eyed him warily and threw in five green chips. Two hundred and fifty volts.
From beside him, Sedric Torren also slapped five green ones in the pot.
Levi equaled their wagers on behalf of the house. Normally with the betting so high, he’d fold. But tonight was different. He hadn’t expected Sedric Torren himself to visit St. Morse. He could’ve been there for only one reason, and that was Levi.
Which meant that Levi couldn’t afford to look weak—not even for a moment.
When the hand ended, Levi had managed to earn a 27 percent profit. At this rate, he’d have thirty in the next hour, which was the highest he’d ever made in one shift. Unlike poker or blackjack, where the dealer was little more than a moderator in the game, Tropps treated the dealer like a player who represented the house. The game placed a heavy emphasis on strategy and bluffing, and it was so well-known across the city that the main street of the Casino District was named after it. Dealers like Levi were famous for their skill, and Levi was one of the best of them all.
The other players grumbled and stomped their way to the next table, their pockets significantly lighter. Levi took a break to collect the cards, as well as his bearings.
The only player who didn’t leave was Sedric Torren.
“’Lo, Pup,” he murmured. His brown hair was slicked to the side and shiny with grease, and his smile was wolf-like. He switched to the seat beside Levi.
“Sedric,” Levi gritted, concealing the ugly feeling of dread in his stomach. The Tropps Room around them was loud with jazz and the chatter of guests, all gussied up in designer gowns and carrying cigarettes in long jewel-encrusted holders. Surely Sedric wouldn’t try anything in public. Even the don of the Torren Family wouldn’t do something that reckless. “What can I do for you?”
Sedric turned to one of the waiters carrying a tray of champagne. “Two glasses.” He set one in front of Levi, who didn’t bother to reach for it. Drinking with a Torren—least of all the don—sounded like asking for trouble, and Levi needed all his concentration to survive this encounter unscathed. “Should we make a toast?” Sedric suggested.
“To what?” Levi asked, keeping his voice steady as he shuffled the Tropps decks. Sedric Torren had a reputation for playing with his prey before he killed it, and Levi needed to make it clear to Sedric that he wasn’t afraid. As far as Sedric should have been concerned, Levi had no reason to fear his family. If anything, this should be an exchange between two businessmen, a celebration of an advantageous trade.
Sedric raised his glass. “We toast to your continued good health. You’ve managed to push back the date for our investment return not just once or twice, but three times.”
Levi’s skin went clammy. This was no celebration—this was a threat.
“Cheers, Pup.” Sedric clinked Levi’s glass before taking a swig. “So where are my promised returns?”
Levi swallowed. “They’re coming.”
Sedric leaned closer. He had a sickly sweet smell to him, like toffee. “I’m not a thickhead, you know,” Sedric said. “Just tell me what you’ve really been doing this whole time.”
He suspects, Levi thought with panic. Or he knows. And he’s forcing me to lie.
The truth meant death.
“You’ll get the volts soon,” Levi rasped, shifting away from him.
Sedric laughed, then adjusted his suit jacket. A silver knife gleamed from an inside pocket, a ruby winking at Levi from its hilt. Only a Torren would carry a weapon that flashy.
Levi reminded himself that he couldn’t look vulnerable. He searched around the Tropps Room for some of Sedric’s cronies, and sure enough, he spotted several men lurking near the door in crisp suits with black-and-red-striped ties—Luckluster colors. He fought to maintain his poker face. He was surrounded.
“You gonna kill me in St. Morse?” Levi dared, mustering up the appearance of confidence. “Doesn’t seem you’d get your volts back, then. And Vianca would never forgive you.”
“I’m not here to kill you. I’m here to warn you.” But despite his words, Sedric removed the knife from his jacket. With only an arm’s length of space between them, it would take Sedric only a heartbeat to stab the knife through Levi’s neck.
Any rational man would run, but Levi was frozen. Maybe that was a good thing. It made him appear bold, even when he was terrified.
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