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The way she looked in the office afterward. The confusion on her pretty face as she tried to understand how I could touch her like she mattered and then speak to her like she didn’t.

“You hesitate,” Cain says.

“I’m thinking.”

“You’re stalling.”

“Fuck you.” I walk to the window. Outside, the grounds are pale with morning light. I glance back at Cain. “Are you sure?”

“About what?”

“Delaney.” I turn back to him. “Are you sure she opened the wrong door?”

“The wrong door?” he repeats.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Cain.”

Then he reaches into his jacket and takes out his phone. “I received confirmation yesterday.”

“From whom?”

He looks down at the screen but doesn’t turn it toward me. “A source.”

“I’m not in the mood for your secrets. Show me.”

“No.”

I could argue, but what would be the point? Instead, I succumb to the rage that flashes through me. I grab Cain by the front of his shirt and shove him back against the bookcase.

A few leatherbound volumes thud behind him.

Cain doesn’t fight me. That’s not his way. It’s not usually my way, either. It’s Sam’s way.

He lets me hold him there, eyes calm, mouth faintly curved, as if this too is useful information.

“Speak plainly,” I say.

“You don’t want the details,” he says.

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I know exactly what you want.” Cain narrows his eyes. “You think I want to kill my brother? Kill his lover? Even I have my limits.”

He’s not lying. Cain doesn’t lie.

Besides, now that I think it through, Father would never order Cain to kill Sam or to kill me. We all serve our purpose in this family, and one day, we’ll be expected to marry and pass our duties to offspring.

It’s Delaney.

And…

I can’t think of Ella. Not now.

“Then what game are you playing?” I demand.