When West stirred awake, he instantly noticed one thing.

His arms were empty.

He opened his eyes.

It was still nighttime.

Slowly rising to his elbow, he called, "Sasha?"

The room was quiet, the curtains still.

With a frown, he gave the room another sweeping glance.

Slipping out of bed, he noticed that his robe was gone.

She may have awakened and was now searching for food in the kitchen, something she had done quite a few times before.

"Seven," he called, expecting the dog to come out of hiding from underneath the bed. He sighed. "Of course." Seven must be wherever Sasha was.

He lazily dressed in his trousers, ignoring his shirt, and walked out of the bedchamber to search for her. Did she even know where the kitchen was?

But she was not there. The kitchen was quiet.

So was the parlor.

It was when he found the garden also empty that he began to feel a sense of panic.

Could it be—

No, surely Willoghby would not dare trespass Everleigh. The bastard could not be that stupid.

Or was he?

His heart started to hammer faster, the rush of panic deafening. West ran back to his bedchamber, shouting Sasha's name.

Breathless, he burst into the room, his eyes wide. She was still not there.

He heard Seven barking down the corridor. He ran outside and the dog met him, jumping up and down. "What is it, Seven? Where is Sasha? Come, tell me," he asked.

The dog barked three more times then whirled around.

West followed, realizing the direction Seven was taking and outran the dog toward his study.

He came bursting in and skidded to a stop.

"What are you bloody doing here?" he demanded when he saw her sitting in the settee wearing nothing but his robe.

Her face was blank, bare of emotions, as she stared straight at him.

He looked her over to survey if she was hurt or not, a habit he developed when it came to Sasha.

It was then that he saw it.

The journal.

Cold washed over him, then disbelief.

No.

The denial came and left the soonest he realized that she did not simply stumble upon it. She would not have found it if she did not come searching for it.

The raw feeling of betrayal seeped in slowly and erupted so powerfully he nearly stumbled in his feet.

His jaw hardened, the fury rapidly building.

As he stared at her sitting there in his robe, looking so calm and composed, his hand closed into a fist.

She made love to him just hours ago and the very moment that he was rendered helpless in sleep, she set out to do what she had always intended to do.

"What do you want?" his cold, menacing voice echoed around the room.

It was there in her eyes, clear as his stupidity.

Everything—everything was a bloody trap.

When she opened her mouth to speak, West was about ready to strangle her neck. And when her voice came out steady and composed, he thought he just needed to kill her. "I will tell you the truth if you will tell me the truth."

His eyes went to his father's journal.

"What does this journal mean?" she asked, her eyes impassive and as equally cold as the still night air. "What are you planning against the kingdom?"

She was sent here to find something, and she found it. Had he been too stupid? Too confident? "I am not planning anything."

Her lips twitched into a mocking smile. "Your father's journal says otherwise."

Fury had consumed West by now. "You were sent to spy on me all this time? By whom? Another flower? Your hidden gentleman?"

She nodded. She did it so effortlessly he believed her. But no, he could not. Surely, this woman wanted something else. But then she said, "One of the letters sent out to you from London was intercepted, leading a few to believe you are in cohorts with the previous monarch."

His eyes flickered back to the journal in her hands. "And what do you plan to do with that, Sasha?" He scoffed. "Is your name even Sasha?"

"My name is Sasha, sir, it has always been. I never lied to you."

A mocking chuckle escaped his throat, mostly directed at himself. "And you simply expect me to believe you?"

Once more, she nodded.

"I asked you a question. What do you intend to do with that?" he asked, motioning his head at the journal.

She smiled. "That will depend on what you are going to tell me."

"Or perhaps how much I am willing to pay?" he asked with scorn. "Because if you intend to deliver it to the people who ordered you to be here and be my whore, I would not be speaking to you now. You would not linger to find out if there is a better option for you."

"I am always looking for better options, West. For now, I want to know why you have this."

"I can have you killed now, and no one will ever know."

"But you will not do that for you have as many questions as I," she said, still motionless, still emotionless. "And I am your only ticket into Belcourt."

"That journal belongs to my father. It does not speak for me."

"But he specifically gave you instructions. How do I know you did not follow them?"

His jaw clenched. "I did follow every bloody instruction."

He saw the surprise in her eyes before it disappeared. "Why?"

West tightened his jaw.

He was so near his goal and he could not lose Sasha now.

If he could manipulate her and turn things into his favor, he might still succeed.

"I have been in correspondence with Reginald, but not because I am finishing what my father started."

"Then you simply want to make friends, is that it?"

He matched her condescending smile. "I have been plotting where the bastard is on the map. We have reasons to believe that he is on his way back to Sutherland."

She frowned. "Through the letters?"

"His letters provide me details of his movements."

Her frown deepened. "You said we. Who are the rest of the we, West?"

West gritted his teeth. "My friends."

She blinked and nodded. "The Earl of Keene and the Marquess of Leighton."

Without acknowledging, West took a step forward. He was not going near for he might just do something.

"And where are these letters?"

He scoffed incredulously. "With someone I trust."

She blinked. "The earl, I assume. Rider Fairborne, is it?"

"We have figured that if I continue to receive the letters, they may be intercepted and I would have to face the consequences I would otherwise suffer if the letters are found in my possession."

"Did you decide on that when one letter went missing?"

He did not nod, but she guessed correctly. Now he knew where the letter went.

"We have been tracking Reginald for years. We have men out there in search of him."

"Why? To save the kingdom?" she asked with the same mocking smile he was beginning to hate. It did not become her. He was no longer facing Sasha, the Belle. He was facing a woman trained to seduce men and use them. Which was the real one?

Neither, the voice in his head replied.

"You may not be your father, West, but it is no secret what the dethronement of Reginald caused you and your father. You have more reasons to betray the current monarchy. Do not tell me you are doing all of this to be a hero."

West felt his nose flare. He was revealing too much. He was risking something big. All because of what? Because he was hoping that he could persuade this woman to work with him? Hoping that she would be greedy enough to take more of his money?

"I am looking for my sister."

Her brows cocked high. "I know. Your father's instructions are very clear. You will find her and take her to Reginald so he can use her against her own father—to ruin the king."

"I may be my father's son, Sasha, but I am also someone's brother," he gritted out, erasing the smile on her face. "I am searching for my sister to save her. I cannot let anyone subject her to whatever my father and Reginald were planning. That can never happen as long as I am alive."

She remained quiet, just looking at him with curiosity.

Did she believe him? Could she believe him?

Too many questions and he barely scratched the surface.

"Do you believe me now? Can I have my turn to ask the questions since you have so gracefully made it certain that we can have a proper chat instead of just upright betraying me?"

Her face softened, then her shoulders dropped. As if she had been holding her breath, as if she had been waiting for this very moment, anticipated it—feared it. And when it happened, she found relief.

His curiosity heightened.

What did she really want?

Why were they having this conversation at all?

Why was she still here? She must know that she could not just easily escape with his father's journal. She must know that he may be inclined toward drastic measures to keep his secrets.

Unless she was after something that had nothing to do with Belcourt.

"I honestly do not know, West," she finally said, her voice almost tired. Was this part of her manipulation? Was he letting her control him again? "Ever since I started this mission, everyone seems to be lying."

"Mission?" he asked, finally understanding. "I am your mission."

She nodded. "Belcourt, you must now realize, is involved in many things."

His jaw tightened.

"But from the moment I started this mission, everyone seems to have motives of their own, doing their own things." She looked around the room and at his mother's portrait. "And if what you are telling me is true," she turned her head to look at him, "then you are the only one who has been truthful thus far."

West waited, still confused.

"So instead of blindly letting myself be trapped in this complicated game of powerful players, I have decided to make my own game."

"And how will you be playing this game?"

"I will find your sister."

"For what price?"

She looked at him, gaze firm and determined. He saw a glimpse of the woman he thought he was beginning to know. "The truth. I will know the truth."

His eyes narrowed. "You can easily ask Belcourt, your very powerful ally."

Something in her eyes flashed. Anger? Concern? Betrayal? "I have discovered things that led me to believe that there is a rat in Belcourt. I need someone who can work with me. Someone from the outside."

He forced out an incredulous breath. "You were tasked to spy on me. And now you are trusting me?"

Her face hardened. "Should I not?"

"You can go to someone high up in Belcourt. Go to the High Priestess. Tell her there is a rat in her cult."

She was clearly offended by the word as her jaw clenched and her eyes went ablaze. "The very reason I am doing this is because I am saving my cult. Someone is doing something behind Belcourt's back. I intend to discover it myself."

"Who? Who in Belcourt could ever do such a thing?" he asked with mocked surprise. "One of the Belles? Your Mistresses?"

"Gabrielle."

West stiffened, a frown forming on his face. "Who?"

"The redhead."

"The one who saved you in Humbrick?"

"The very one."

"You cannot expect me to believe you."

"I believe Gabrielle might be working with the prince."

"And what has the prince got to do—"

"He is the one who approached Belcourt, asking to spy on you. I believe he is aware that you are looking for your sister. And if what you say is true, then he also has reasons to want to get to your sister, West. And someone is helping him do that. Someone in Belcourt. Gabrielle had done things against Belcourt law and I intend to find more proof of her treachery."

"With my help? By betraying Belcourt and the prince?"

"I believe that Belcourt is not aware of Gabrielle's connection with the prince, nor are they aware of your sister's existence in Belcourt. It has been many years since your mother gave birth to this child. Belcourt has the power to keep secrets from the ladies themselves, even the Mistresses. If Belcourt is remotely aware of your sister's presence, West, it would have been impossible for you to gain membership. They would not have been keeping her and putting her in danger by taking you in. If she is indeed in Belcourt, she must be there in secret to protect her. If Belcourt knew where she is, I see no reason for Gabrielle's actions."

He shook his head, unable to believe he was having this conversation with her.

"This woman, your sister, is a part of Belcourt. I cannot allow anyone to hurt her simply because she was born out of sin." Sasha stood and looked him straight in the eye. "I am doing this for your sister. I am doing this for the future children in Belcourt who need a home. I am doing this for the rest of the women who take refuge in Belcourt."

West took the moment to process everything she had thus far said. She made sense, but could he trust her?

With a bitter smile, he searched her eyes. "From the first day, Sasha?"

He saw something flash her eyes but was unable to decipher for it disappeared in a blink. She nodded. "From the very first day."

From the very first day...

He remembered the look of innocent surprise in her face when they first met in her parlor. The naïve look she gave him, the proud way she recovered. Everything that happened after that flashed before his eyes. Her signing their agreement, probably laughing at his ignorance; her taking him to Belcourt; Humbrick; that stormy night.

She had been lying to him. Why should he trust her now?

Because he saw something true every now and then. The fear in her eyes when Willoghby attacked her. The same fear last night when the bastard appeared in the opera.

She was yet to tell him everything that she found out, everything she experienced to have led her to do this.

With caution, West finally spoke. "If I learn that you are lying to me, I will make certain to deliver my punishment before Belcourt ever can."

She nodded.

The next question hovered above them—between them.

"And where does this leave us?" he asked. Stupid that he was, he just had to ask.

Looking at her eyes, West knew she understood his unspoken question. What of them?

With a bittersweet smile, she replied without truly addressing his question. "We go back to the start where we both agree to find your sister and save her before the prince can lay his hands on her. And once we do, you cannot take her anywhere without her consent for she will have to be free to do what she wants. And we sign on it. I suggest you call your lawyer and draft a new agreement."