Page 73 of The Darkest Chase

Holy shit!

I nearly barf on the spot.

I didn’t know I left my scarf here, though now I remember setting it in my lap at lunch. It must have fallen in the garden when I fled.

Now, here’s Xavier, sniffing it like a curious dog.

He doesn’t even notice Joseph and I are standing there.

For a second, there’s a flash of abject disgust on Joseph’s face. It feels like he’s expressing what I can’t.

But the valet abruptly wipes the look away as Xavier slowly lowers my scarf from his face and opens his eyes with a deliberation that stops my heart.

He knows.

He effing knows.

He’s aware we caught him.

And he also doesn’t care how we feel about it, either.

In fact, his gaze slides lazily to me, his catlike green eyes lidded with sick satisfaction, like he’s enjoying the shock that must be written all over my face.

“Miss Grey,” he drawls slowly. “Excellent timing.”

I make a choked sound, trying to find impossible words. But Joseph speaks up first.

“I’ll take my leave, sir,” he says. “Do call if you need anything else.”

He’s clearly speaking to Xavier, only his eyes cut to me briefly. There’s a sympathetic look, like he doesn’t want to leave me alone with this man, but to keep up appearances he has no choice.

Is that a warning in his eyes? Is he telling me to play along?

My heart shrinks.

And I remember that app Micah had me install. Maybe his instincts were right after all.

I’m starting to get just how serious this is.

Joseph bows and turns to march away, leaving me frozen in the doorway and trying not to hyperventilate while Xavier watches me like the cat that got the cream.

Honestly, it pisses me off that he thinks it’s so cute, that it had to be intentional, staging this scene so I’d catch him.

Anger loosens my tongue and pins a hard smile on my lips, one that doesn’t feel like me. My fingers dig into the strap of my bag.

“Mr. Arrendell,” I bite off. “I didn’t realize I forgot my scarf. Thanks for returning it.”

The glint in Xavier’s eye says I’m not fooling him, but we’re keeping up appearances, aren’t we?

“Naturally.” He beckons me forward. “Come in. I apologize for being so unseemly. I caught a whiff of your perfume, and I was hoping to identify the scent. It’s a lovely floral, almost vanilla. It reminded me we really should keep more flowers around this godforsaken house.”

Double yikes.

Stepping into this room feels like sticking my head through a noose.

Especially when I tear my eyes away from his smug face and glance down at the desk. There’s a small silver tray there, a business card lying at an odd angle, and—

Oh. Is that a few grains of white scattered there?