"I'm telling you now," I turned back to hiss at the Count from the top step of the carriage, "if you try anything, I'll make you wish you'd never been born."
Count Graye smirked up at me from where he stood below. "If that were to be the case, I'm sure you'd have to beat Marquess Wulfstan to the punch. Literally."
..What?
'Literally'?
Did this cocky Count just steal my best line?? It's not enough to ruin my perfect streak of closed cases, barge into my private life, and force me into weird date setups? Now he's going after the title of main character as well?
Begrudgingly, I took my seat, vowing to give him a blunt reminder who the most important person in this story is.
Spoiler alert: it's me.
With my arms crossed and one leg draped over the other, my toe furious tapping the air, I glared at my fellow carriage passenger.
He didn't seem bothered in the least by my ire. Looking completely relaxed, he removed his mask, unbuttoned the top of his shirt, and leaned back.
