She’d had too much to drink. Everyone at the table had, even Finn. Cora watched him under lowered lashes as he tossed back a tumbler of rum. He’d descended into a dark, brooding silence after his friend had urged him to sit down again. She was glad he was staying, but at the same time his presence made the air sticky with the anticipation of violence.

Cora smiled to herself. That was something she’d come to expect with Finn. Violence. Anger. Misery. He wasn’t a happy man, but she’d never really known happy men, had she? Only Bailey, who’d always been ready with a smile for her.

But not her father. At least, not after Naomie and Sophia’s deaths.

Her Unc—Javier was probably the closest thing to a happy person she knew. The few times she’d seen him—the one time she could remember him sharing a meal with her family, when that family had consisted of more than just two people—had been a man with a laughing face and bright eyes. Even now, his carefree joy was as intoxicating as her glass of wine.

“You!” Javier called out.

Lost in her thoughts, she turned to Javier expecting that he’d been calling her. But he had a hand up, gesturing impatiently to one of the servants standing like guards at the entrance to the dining room.

The woman hurried to his side, bobbing a curtsy for all the world like he was a duke, and then leaned close so he could whisper something in her ear. Then another curtsy, and she was scurrying from the room as fast as she could without breaking into a run.

Javier stood. He spread his arms wide to take in his handful of guests. “I think a celebration is in order.”

Ana laughed, and then cut off the sound with her hand. She’d been intent on teaching Cora how to keep herself in the threshold between drunk and tipsy, but it seemed it was something she hadn’t managed to master herself yet. The woman’s cheeks were as dark as if she’d rouged them. The serving woman returned less than a minute later, a bottle of champagne under one arm and a saber in the other. She brought both over to Javier, who gave her a fond smile before flicking his fingers to dismiss her. He turned to the assembled crowd and held the champagne up in one hand, the saber with the other.

The champagne looked to be one of those expensive ones, the saber something long and silver that gleamed in the light thrown down by the chandelier.

When Cora glanced across at Finn, she saw that he wasn't looking at her, just Javier. There was nothing she could read from his expression, but apprehension still filled the air. Perhaps it was the saber Javier held that was so intimidating. Or perhaps it was just her uncle’s posture; proud and arrogant and so full of himself.

"It’s not every day that I receive such an honored guest at my humble home," Javier said. He cast a look at Cora, holding onto her gaze for what seemed like an eternity before looking back at the champagne bottle in his hands. He hoisted the bottle theatrically, and sliced at it with the saber. The cork and about an inch of the bottle flew over the top of the dining room table, and came to land at the foot of the servant who had brought to him. She took a step back, as if worried that the cork might jump up and bite her.

Javier held the streaming bottle over the champagne flutes that another servant had placed on the table beside him. Cora took her flute from the servant when he past it to her and gave it a hesitant sip. What if glass had gotten inside when Javier had sliced off the neck?

Finn gulped on his champagne, and set the flute down hard enough that Cora was surprised that it didn’t crack. He rose, turned to Javier, and said, "Good night."

Javier looked across at him in surprise, and put his fingertips against his chest. "Leaving so soon, Mr. Finn?"

Finn straightened, but didn't say anything in return. Javier nodded once and waved a hand at one of the servants. The man came to his side, and Javier murmured something to him under his breath. Finn followed the man out, not looking back at anyone in the room. For a moment, cold poured into the room as if Finn's presence had kept the warmth inside. And then conversation started up again, as rowdy and carefree as if Finn had never left. Perhaps even more so, now that he’d left.

She tried to get back into her conversation with Anna, but she couldn't concentrate on anything the woman said. Eventually, Ana gave up trying to talk to her, and moved around the table to sit beside Lars.

Cora fidgeted with his silver ware until one of the servants came to clear the table. That was when Javier’s conversation with Sylvia ended, and he turned to her. He studied her for a while, and the longer he did so, the more she blushed.

What was he thinking?

“Ana, you’ve done a spectacular job,” Javier murmured, reaching out to run his fingertips down Cora’s sleek hair. “She looks breathtaking.”

Ana’s only response was a giggle. Then she was back to her conversation with Silvia, whose eyes were heavy lidded with drink.

“I have much to discuss with you,” Javier said.

Cora blinked hard. “With me?”

“Of course.” Javier sat back, spreading his arms wide. “You are Eleodora Rivera.”

It was as if he was expecting something, so she shrugged.

“You don’t know what that means yet,” he said, almost chidingly, “but you will. You must. Just because that name means nothing to you, does not mean it has become meaningless to others.”

Something approaching irritation bloomed inside her. Just when she’d thought all this shit was over and done with. She’d been happy for all of three, maybe four, hours. And now this.

She rose, pushing away her chair hard enough to draw everyone’s gaze. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll go to bed, if that’s all right.”

Javier gave her a long, slow smile. “Of course, mi reinita.” He twitched his hand as he laid it on the table. “Mi casa, su casa. Ana?” He turned to the blond woman, and gestured lazily at Cora. “Will you escort Elle back to her room?”

“I know where it is,” Cora said, starting for the door.

“Please, Elle. As safe as this haven of mine is, I would prefer I knew if you didn’t get lost along the way.”

“I’ll take her,” Lars said, standing and waving a hand at Ana who’d started getting to her feet. “Please. I insist.”

Javier gave Lars a gracious nod, and then beckoned Ana and Silvia to his side as he also got to his feet. “A pleasant dinner with good company,” Javier said, staring straight at Cora. “The first of many.” He draped an arm around each woman and left the dining room ahead of them, nuzzling his face first into Silvia’s neck and then Ana’s. Ana giggled, and Silvia squeezed his ass, her long nails glittering under the light of the chandelier.

Cora let out a sigh, and slumped back in her chair as Lars’s let out a low whistle.

“Got some interesting relatives, bunny.”

“He’s not my real uncle,” she said. Hadn’t she said that before? Her brain felt like the thin soup they’d been served as an appetizer.

She left the dining room, heading toward the staircase. She heard Lars’s boots stomping on the flagstones as he followed her.

A night flower was blooming somewhere in the courtyard. She glanced over the exquisite garden. One of the larger fountains tinkled gaily with splashing water. Aphrodite, standing on a shell, just her hair for clothing. Another statue, more to the side and partially obscured by a dense climbing vine, caught her eye. A robed figure, facing away from Cora. Something about the way the statue had been positioned seemed important, but it was too far away for her to make out anything.

She reached for her Santa Meurte pendant, but her fingers touched only bare skin.

Right. Ana had made her take it off, saying it was a disgrace to have such beautiful collarbones disguised with such common jewelery. The woman had even grimaced a little as she’d taken it off Cora’s neck, as if she’d preferred not to have touched the Saint’s likeness.

She and Lars went up the stairs. Cora turned to the left. Lars followed. She stopped in front of the door leading to her room and paused.

“Thank you,” Cora said, turning her door handle. Then she paused. Gave Lars a quick look over her shoulder and shifted her weight.

“Something on your mind, bunny?”

“Are…did they…do you and Finn have the same room?”

“Why do I get the feeling you want me to play messenger boy?” Lars said, not sounding happy about it.

“Could you ask him to come see me? There’s something I need to—”

“Yeah…no,” Lars cut in. “Howsabout you tell him whatever you need to in the morning. You two can have a nice breakfast in the garden. Say whatever bullshit it is you have to say to each other out there in the open. During daylight. No more bad decisions.”

“What exactly is your problem?” Cora stepped forward, and jabbed a finger in Lars’s chest. “You Finn’s mother or something? What’s it to you if we—”

He grabbed her wrist and wrenched her hand away, releasing her a second later. “I’m his friend. Possibly his best one. And I don’t like what you’re doing to him.”

“Which is what?” Cora glared at him.

“You’re messing with his head. And that head’s been messed with enough for thirty men. Just leave him be.” Lars glanced down at her, giving her a dismissive once-over that made her skin tingle. “You’re a fine piece of ass, bunny, so, I’m sure whatever void Finn leaves between your legs, you can fill up pretty damn—”

She slapped him.

Maybe it was the frustration that had been building up all damn day. Javier’s mysterious promise at the dinner table. Just everything.

Lars’s only reaction was a slight turn of his head. So she lifted her hand again, wanting something more visceral from him. He stepped back so she couldn’t reach him, spun on his heel, and strode down the corridor. Cora stared after him until he disappeared into a doorway on the other side of the corridor.

Her hand tingled furiously, hot and aching where she’d slapped him.

Would he still tell Finn? Somehow, she doubted it.