Lombardo takes my hand between his and cleans it with the sleeve of his robe. The white fabric grows pink but can’t absorb the whole stain; my skin remains rosy, my fingernails lined in red.
‘There,’ he says. ‘Now at least that beautiful ring is clean. You spent a lot of money for that gold, after all.’
I take my hand back. ‘How do you know what I’ve done for this ring?’ I ask, defiant, though the truth is I accepted the ring easily. I was happy to do a favor for Max.
He holds up his own hand, wags his finger. He’s wearing the same ring. ‘I inherited this from my father, just like Max did from his. Is there an m.g. engraved on the inside? Never mind. East said another Club member was helping, but you’re not her, are you? You’re Max’s messenger. He must have made some better friends tha
