You're a legend in this town."
I gave her another smile before I ducked out into the hallway.
Somehow, I forced myself to saunter back the way I'd come instead of running like I really wanted to. I didn't know what bothered me more. The fact Mab Monroe had considered taking me up on my fake offer to f**k her or the fact I'd left the Fire elemental in her own bathroom with a dead body in the tub. Either way, things were starting to get out of hand. I needed to get Tobias Dawson alone - now - or get out. Saving my own skin tonight - and Finn's and Roslyn's - came first. Even before the job I'd promised to do for Warren Fox.
I'd just rounded the corner that led back to the main hallway when someone moved in the shadows off to my left. I palmed one of my knives.
"That was quite a performance you put on back there in the bathroom," a male voice murmured. "Very entertaining."
Owen Grayson stepped out of the shadows. Like every other man on the premises, he wore a tuxedo. Once again, I was struck by how compact, sturdy, and strong his frame was. Almost dwarven, except for his six-foot-one height.
His violet eyes glittered in the low light, even as his blueblack hair disappeared into the shadows. The white slash of a scar under his lips offset the crooked quirk of his nose, adding that much more character to his chiseled features.
First Jake McAllister, then Mab Monroe, and now Owen Grayson. Terrific.
"I'm not sure what you mean." I tightened my grip on my knife.
Instead of answering me, Owen Grayson's eyes trailed down my body, one slow inch at a time. Breasts, stomach, thighs, legs. He took it all in. A smile spread across his face.
"You know, Ms. Blanco," he said, purposefully using my name. "The dress is lovely, but I think I like the apron and jeans better. Seems more like the real you."
Fuck. Despite the blond wig, Owen Grayson had recognized me. Even worse, he'd somehow heard me proposition Mab Monroe in the bathroom. I wondered if he'd seen me with Jake McAllister as well - and realized the other man had never come out of the room.
"And what would you know about the real me?" I asked in a soft tone.
Owen's smile deepened. "I know you have a silverstone knife in your hand right now."
There was no way he could have seen me palm the knife. So how did he know I even had one? I stared at him closer and realized the reason his violet eyes were so bright was because they were glowing - with magic. A faint trace, barely noticeable, but I felt it. A cool caress, not unlike my own Stone magic. Which could only mean one thing.
"You have an elemental talent for metal."
"Guilty as charged, I'm afraid," Owen said. "It's a small skill."
My eyes narrowed. Because with every word he said, I was thinking more and more about stabbing Owen Grayson and taking the chance I could get out of the mansion before someone found his body. But I decided to play it cool - for now.
"What do you want?"
"I just want to talk." Owen held out his arm to me.
"Shall we?"
I stared at his arm, thinking how easy it would be to brush it aside and bury my knife in his heart. He knew what I was thinking. The knowledge flashed in his violet eyes, but his arm never wavered, never lowered. His gaze never left mine. For whatever reason, Owen Grayson wasn't afraid of me. Which piqued my curiosity. At least enough for me to slide my knife back up the sleeve of my dress.
Fucking curiosity. Going to get me killed one night.
Maybe even tonight.
I took his arm. "So talk."
Owen tucked me in close to him, and the heat of his body washed over me. He smelled rich and earthy, almost like... metal, if metal had any real smell. His arm felt like steel, even through the fabric of his tuxedo jacket. For the first time, I was aware of him as a man, as someone of the opposite sex. Owen Grayson was decidedly attractive, with his strong body and chiseled features. But what really set him apart was the fact that he radiated confidence the way that Mab Monroe did magic. That hint of power, that confidence, made Grayson interesting. And definitely someone worth watching.
Especially since I was still considering killing him.
We walked down the hallway back toward the ballroom.
At first, I thought we would go straight there, but Owen Grayson paused and opened one of the doors that led outside. We stepped out onto the stone terrace that lined this side of the mansion, and Grayson shut the door behind us.
The night air was cool, especially since my dress was still damp from where I'd scrubbed away Jake McAllister's blood. Antique-looking iron street lamps lined the terrace, providing soft, hazy illumination, while wide stone steps led down to a garden beyond. Low moans and sucking sounds drifted up to us, and several dark shapes writhed together in various gazebos in the garden. Other couples stood up against trees or used some of the stone statues for leverage. The party must have livened up a bit, if folks had already come outside to f**k on top of Mab Monroe's prize-winning roses.
Owen Grayson meandered down the terrace, with me at his side.
"I have to confess I was quite surprised when you strolled into the ballroom tonight," Grayson began. "I hadn't expected to see you here, especially not wearing that cheap blond wig."
"Don't care for blondes, do you?" I sniped.
"Sassy brunettes are more my style." He grinned.
I didn't respond.
"Actually, I have a small confession to make. I've been thinking about you a lot these past few days, Ms. Blanco. So much so that I had a friend gather some information on you."
So Owen Grayson had someone dig into my past. No worries. My cover ID as Gin Blanco was rock solid. It had withstood Jonah McAllister's scrutiny, and I had no doubt it had passed muster with Grayson as well. But I didn't understand his curiosity. Sure, I'd saved his sister, Eva, from being burned to death by Jake McAllister that night at the Pork Pit. But most men of Grayson's wealth, position, and standing would have forgotten all about me by now.
"You checked me out? Why?"
"You saved my sister, you saved Eva," Owen said. "She's the most important thing in the world to me. I like to settle my debts. I wanted to find some way to repay you. I wanted to find something you liked, something you wanted or needed, and give it to you. No strings attached."
"I told you that I don't want your money."
Owen waved his hand. "So you've said. But then I got close to you, shook your hand that night in the Pork Pit. And I wondered why someone who runs a barbecue restaurant, even one on the edge of Southtown, would carry five silverstone knives on her person. Seemed like overkill to me."