“Bloody amazing!” He practically skipped over to Hawkins and began staring across the table. “You mean I get to wear some of this?”
Lily shook her head in amusement. “I should have known. Yes, dear, you get to choose any dress you like. But since you’re to seduce Benini, and I’m an expert in such seduction, I’ll be the one to make the final decision as to what you’ll be wearing this evening.” She turned to Jinn, frozen by the wall. “You too, my dear. You’ll make a lovely working girl.”
It was the kind of hilarity Iris needed in the midst of so much misery and confusion. But not everyone shared her sense of amusement.
“I refuse!” Jinn managed to spit out. “I utterly, utterly refuse! And you! Stop laughing!”
His eyes kept darting to Iris, collapsed onto a chair, clutching her sides as if they’d burst.
“Don’t be closed-minded.” Max picked up a gold-colored broach. “I’ve always wondered what you ladies have to go through, all those layers of clothes you wear. Iris’s worn the same thing for days now.”
Iris stopped laughing and sat up. “Excuse me for not having a closet full of ball gowns.”
“I see this as a learning experience.” Max tried the broach on.
“You’re just completely mental, aren’t you?” Jinn looked at him as if he wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or baffled.
Argument filled the room until Lily stomped her boot on the floor. “Pardon me,” she said, and the room fell to a hush. “I seem to remember Lawrence telling me that you three are the ones who want to interrogate Benini.”
“Yes,” Iris said, her laughter gone as she remembered the purpose of their mission.
Jinn lowered his head. “But doing something like this—”
Lily shot him the stern look of an older sister, one Max and Hawkins seemed all too familiar with as they didn’t dare challenge her. “Something like this is a job many before you have taken up and many after you will continue once your mission is done.” Lily folded her arms. “In order for me to arrange this with the establishment in Chelsea, they had to temporarily relieve the Friday Girls Benini usually sees. Which means that for the sake of your mission, those girls will go out of work for a day. That’s money out of their hands. Money many of them need.”
Lily straightened out the lace gloves of one of the dresses on the table with her fingers. “You may look down on this, but for us, this is our livelihood. And I’m not ashamed of what I do.” She glared at Jinn. “Be a bit grateful for this opportunity you’ve been given.”
“All right, all right,” said Hawkins. “I think they’re ready to try a few of these on. Right?”
Iris jumped to her feet, suddenly feeling rather embarrassed herself. “This seems a little intrusive. Should I stay in the room, or should I leave? Or should I turn around?”
Max and Jinn exchanged sheepish glances.
* * *
On a cool Friday evening, four royal beauties ascended the white stone steps of an extravagant home in Chelsea. Past the dark columns, the mahogany door opened before they even reached it. A white-bearded man in a black jacket straightened his top hat as he passed them, though not before giving them an appreciative glance. As his carriage rolled down the street behind them, the beautifully dressed old woman standing at the threshold of the front door welcomed them inside with a gracious bow. She and Lily exchanged proper greetings.
“Is Benini here yet?” asked Lily as she walked through the door.
“He’s due to come at eight on the dot,” said the woman. So they had half an hour to wait. The woman peered over Lily’s shoulders. “And are these—”
“Why, yes!” Lily looked upon her work with utmost pride. And she had every right to; it took two painful hours and four sets of hands to complete. “May I introduce you to Miss Iris, the most beautiful among them.” She placed her hand on Iris’s shoulders. “And the two cowering behind her are Miss Jill and Miss Maxine. Do be kind—they’re new. Girls?”
The three curtseyed as they’d been taught to.
Max and Jinn were a vision. Jinn looked particularly dashing in his embroidered velvet gown, a lovely midnight blue, lace and beads around the bodice with a dark peach undergarment. His sleeves ended with a frill of silk revealing the white of his gloves reaching up his elbows.
But Max would not be outdone in his layered dress, an eggshell white with red flowers, the skirt fanning about him like a blossom. The sleeve of his jacket of the same color exploded with fabric that dragged across his dress when he lifted his arm to adjust his silver belt. He insisted on the sun hat. It was Iris who suggested their dresses, and Lily who ultimately gave the seal of approval.
Iris wondered which of them was the most uncomfortable. Iris’s dark-violet silk day dress was cinched in at the waist with a black belt while her puffed sleeves were dreadfully tight. Her layers had layers. Marie Antoinette indeed.
The powdered white wigs they wore, along with their carefully drawn makeup, made them unrecognizable. Still, would Benini really not know that his three new Friday Girls were champions?
“Don’t worry about all that,” Lily said when Iris asked. “If the plot goes accordingly, he’ll be subdued before he has a chance to make the connection.”
They walked into the crowded establishment. Red velvet curtains covered gentlemen of wealth as they drank from their wineglasses, laughing with beautiful women in white dresses.
The plan was a simple one: Iris would hide in a room awaiting Benini with one of the other Friday Girls. Once he appeared, so too would the other girl and, with the door shut behind them, the interrogation would begin. If anything, their attire helped them to maneuver through the establishment without attracting many stares from the regulars, who expected a taste of imperial France on Fridays. Besides, even if Benini recognized them, based on what Iris knew about the man, he’d probably be flattered to know Adam’s champions were willing to spend quality time with him before the tournament’s final round.
“Now remember.” Lily faced them. “Benini always visits the rooms in a counterclockwise direction.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Jinn pressed his hand against his forehead as Max fiddled awkwardly with his corset.
Lily took Max’s hand and gestured toward the room in front of him. Iris could see the wooden doors through the red curtains. “Max, that’s your room at eleven o’clock.”
Max nodded. They all knew Lily’d meant the direction, not the time.
“Iris, you’ll go with him. And Jinn, the ten o’clock room has been left empty for you. We’ll make sure the man’s plied with enough alcohol that his tongue’s looser than his belt.”
“I have to warn you,” said Iris, “I’m not sure what’ll happen in that room. It’s an interrogation, after all. Things might get a little…” Iris cleared her throat. “Violent. For him, of course.”
“The rougher, the better!” Lily dismissed her concerns with a wave. “This establishment is used to Benini’s eccentricities, so if he lets out a yell or two, I don’t think anyone would be curious in the least.”
Business as usual, then.
“Listen for my knock,” Lily told Max and Iris. “That’s the signal he’s about to arrive.”
“That’s that.” Max grabbed her hand. “Come on, then, Marie Antoine-Iris.” He pulled her to their eleven o’clock room, and Iris could have sworn she saw him toss a rather childish look toward the brooding Jinn behind them.
Iris noticed the oak night table ahead of her first as they crossed through the double wooden doors. Two lit candlesticks flickered near the vanity mirror. Iris and Max stepped onto the brown, orange, and violet Persian rug on the floor.
“Okay?” Max asked, because Iris was blushing.
“Y-yes!” she stuttered, accidentally hitting her powdered wig as she saluted him. “Nothing to worry about here!”
Erotic oil paintings. To her left behind the red curtains hung quite a few of them. Max seemed to like them. And to her right,
a red canopy the same color as the covers draped the cast-iron bed. Fluffy golden pillows trimmed with lace, the red lamps affixed to the walls, the crystal chandelier hanging from the low ceiling. No expense was spared.
Max closed the door behind them and sat on the bed. “And now we wait.”
Iris giggled as he adjusted his skirt. “Awful, isn’t it?”
“You women are heroes for bearing this crap.” He smoothed out his skirt. “Still.” He lay on the bed, plunking his foot down and holding his head up with a hand. “At least this gives us a little quality time together.”
Iris chuckled in disbelief, sitting in front of the vanity mirror. “Maximo. You can’t be serious.”
She waited for his silly retort, but it never came. Through the mirror, she could see Max sitting upright, leaning over his legs, intertwining his fingers.
“What’s wrong?” She cocked her head to the side. But Max didn’t answer. Her back straightened. “Max?”
“I think Berta would have enjoyed things like this,” Max said quietly. At the sound of his sister’s name, Iris placed her hands on her lap, gazing at him with concern. It wasn’t like him to talk about her. “She was sillier than I was when we were young. I wonder if she’s still like that?”
Right. It was hard to forget sometimes that she wasn’t the only one suffering. No matter what was happening to her, there were times when Iris had to be a champion for someone else when they needed it. And so she smiled, hating herself when she realized that was all she could do for him.
“You’ll find her again, you know that. I’ll help. You know that too.” And when Max looked at her, her smile grew even sweeter. “I mean that. You can’t get rid of me that easily. And then we can see together how silly she is. If she’s anything like her big brother—” She whistled.
But what she said only made his expression more solemn. What was going on?
“We’re teammates. You’ve said that to me before.” Max scratched behind his ear, shutting his eyes as if all he wanted to concentrate on was the feel of his nails against his skin. “No matter what’s happened. We’re a team.” Like he was trying to convince himself.
Suddenly he let out a sigh and fell back onto the bed. His hat tumbled onto the covers. “Just let it go, Maximo.” His arms spread out across the covers. “Throw it away. And forget it.”
“Throw what away?”
“All this nonsense worrying. Thinking round in circles. It’s been my flaw since I was a child. It’s why I went along with that damn headhunter. I thought, if I could just get some good work like he promised—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “No, Maximo. Just throw it away. Worrying never leads anywhere good. When you worry, you make desperate, stupid decisions. You get yourself in bed with the wrong people. You believe their promises…”
You believe their promises… Iris checked her makeup courtesy of Lily’s girls. But when she looked into the mirror, she saw Adam instead. “I’m not so good at throwing my thoughts away,” she confessed. “I’m always worrying. You’re right, it leads nowhere good.”
Iris lowered her head, looking at the sleek varnish on the night table. Deep within her thoughts she heard Adam whispering his warnings. Just how far was she willing to go for a truth she may not be prepared for?
Looking at herself like this reminded her of those moments before a show. Her heart would be beating in excitement for the rising of the curtains. Well, this was a performance too, of sorts. She had to do now what she always did then. Quiet her heart. Listen to her own breathing.
“Iris, do you take me seriously?”
Seeing Max through the mirror, she couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing, into her hand, of course, so as not to make too much noise.
“Thanks,” Max said sarcastically.
“Don’t look like that,” said Iris, giving him a wide, sidelong smile. “You’re far too beautiful to wear such a heavy expression! I won’t allow it any longer. It’s almost sinful.”
She waved him over. He came dutifully, bending down to her level so they could look at each other, powdered wigs and all, in the mirror. With a hand, she cupped his chin and grinned.
“Look at the two of us! Aren’t we pretty?” Iris winked.
Max was silent for a long time. “You’re beautiful, Iris,” he whispered.
His voice was soft as silk. Iris’s heart jumped a little, but she covered her nervousness with a little laugh. “You too, Miss Maxine.” She swallowed after her voice cracked.
“I’ve thought so since the moment I saw you,” Max confessed. “But it was all fun and games then. Business and promises.” Iris wasn’t sure what he meant, but he didn’t seem to notice her puzzled expression. He was looking at himself. The secrets in his eyes. The hint of shame.
“But then I came to know you. Your charm. Your struggles. Your sadness. Your strength. And I didn’t want to…” He bit his lip and straightened up. “I didn’t want to leave you.”
Iris’s body stiffened. She should be hiding behind the red curtains, waiting for Benini to come, but she couldn’t move from her chair. She stared at the ribbon in her hair through the vanity instead. Lily had suggested replacing her ribbon with a black one to contrast the color of her dress, but she couldn’t bear it.
This was the ribbon Jinn had given her, after all. This was their ribbon.
She shivered as she felt the back of Max’s hand brush her neck. “Only you can think of something like that in a situation like this.”
“I agree. Maybe it’s the ambience?” He looked around at the red-lit room, the candles, and the ready bed. “But truthfully, I’ve been waiting to spend time alone with you.”
Iris pulled her tight sleeves. “We’re attempting to ambush and interrogate a member of the Enlightenment Committee in a brothel on the eve of a battle to the death,” she reminded him.
“You’re right.” And then she felt his strong arms around her neck, soft but secure. “But I’ve never met anyone like you. Mysterious. Dangerous. Proud. Daring.”
He was far more open than Jinn. But at the thought of Jinn, Iris’s heart beat that much faster, guilt prickling her warm body. Iris gripped Max’s arm. “Not now.”
“If not now, then when?” Max lifted her up and, taking her by the shoulders, pulled her close, looking deeply into her eyes. “Tell me. What do you think of me, Iris?”
This was ridiculous—the dresses, the frills, the lace, the bed, the scheme—and yet her breath hitched nonetheless as she felt his hard chest heaving.
“Don’t,” she whispered, but she didn’t move. Instead she remembered the night Jinn had asked her the same question. Then too, Iris had no answer. Why couldn’t she answer?
“You’re too bold,” she scolded Max. “And sh-shameless.”
“Shameless. I agree. After everything I’ve done, I agree.” Max’s grin was a little sad.
Everything he’s done? Like what? Iris furrowed her brow, but then he brushed a finger down her cheek. Her body flushed. Her mind went blank.
“But sometimes you have to be bold. I told you before: I’m not a fool but a trickster. I do as I please. Maybe I should just admit that. Maybe I should relish it. And forget everything else.”
“A trickster never takes anything seriously.” Iris looked away to hide her flushed expression. “Including feelings.”
For a moment, she wondered if she’d finally struck a nerve. But Max only gazed down at her with a challenging expression, his grip around her shoulders loosening. “Right. Well then, let’s just test that theory, shall we?”
Iris almost let out a yelp as Max swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed.
She couldn’t believe this. They had to wait for Lily’s signal. Maybe they’d already missed it. Benini could be here any moment. So many protests whirled in her mind while her lips stayed parted in a silent gasp.
No protest mattered more to her than the reminder that Jinn was in the other room, waiting for the mission to begin, but once Max had place
d her gently on the bed, once her back felt the silk sheets and the weight of Max’s body was on top of her, the protests silenced one by one.
Max’s lips were upon hers before she could catch her breath. Deep, long, meaningful kisses that disarmed her just enough that she couldn’t shield herself from the feeling of his warm fingers sliding up her leg, pulling her dress up with it.
She wasn’t an expert in passion. Years of having no memories had made her mind rather one-track. Ever since she fell from that tightrope by the bakery and broke her neck, her mind had felt under attack. Every new development left her floundering in painful mysteries. At night, when she closed her eyes, she saw Anne trying to speak to her. And in the morning, as the first rays of sun peeked through the window, she mistook her heavy eyelashes for falling ash.
So in that moment, as she placed a hand upon Max’s neck, she wondered if maybe “throwing it all away” would soothe her. Forget about it all. Maximo Morales, that handsome, charismatic rogue who never stopped making her smile from the very depths of her being…
It did soothe her. Once she let herself go, her whole body arched toward him as he deepened his kiss. Her body tingled with pleasure, with warmth, with passion that made her feel alive as Max clumsily slid off her jacket. At this rate, both their makeup would be ruined.
No, stop worrying. Stop caring. Iris’s other hand somehow found his back, but then quickly flopped at her side. It wasn’t that she didn’t know where to put it; she was unwilling to put it there. Because if she did, it would sink even lower. It would grab his flesh and pull him closer. Too close. Too close…
Her hand flopped about until it caught the handle of the chestnut drawer beside the bed and pulled it open. Max peeled himself away from her to peer inside.
“Ropes…” Iris blinked as Max reached inside and pulled a long cord from the drawer. Then he gazed back at her, a wild look in his eyes. Iris’s heart lodged in her throat. “Don’t you even think about it!”
The Bones of Ruin Page 42