Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Obviously, none of the men in our group saw what happened because if they did, he’d already be thrown into the closest wall of spikes in a torture chamber that I’m certain Eli has here.
My phone buzzes again. It’s been going off all night. I ignore it as I go to the bathroom. The room tilts, and I lean against the wall as I pee. Fuck. I’m really drunk.
“What’s brought this on lately?” Ivy asks in the stall beside me. I could ask her the same. I feel like she’s been spending more time with me than usual when I come back from trips. Maybe it’s for the same reason that Hawke is. Now that Billie is preoccupied in her relationship with Ford, Ivy’s looking for her next person. All three of us are close, but I can’t help but feel like a consolation prize.
“I don’t know. I just want to do something different,” I admit. Lies have been piling up on each other, and I don’t even know who I am anymore. I thought dropping out of college and refining my schedule would help me pursue something else. But it turns out my calendar just fills up with more projects and events.
I’m tired, and my only outlet is something depraved and twisted. I feel like I’m drowning as I try to hide such a prominent part of me and replace it with something else.
My phone buzzes again. It’s the fourth call from my agent. She doesn’t usually call this late, but I ignore her again.
I pull up my leather pants and take a breath to try and center myself as I step out to wash my hands. Ivy is touching up her hair and makeup. She looks at me then, placing a hand on her hip.
“What are you running away from, Hope? I don’t mind partying with you, girl, but you’ve been acting differently this last year, more so lately. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Ivy’s so beautiful and sure of who she is. She lives as she pleases and dances only to her own tune. She’s incredibly talented and doesn’t need validation from others. She’s living freely.
Her only secret is how good she is at hacking and tracking like her father. And the only reason she doesn’t tell her parents is because she’s not yet sure if she wants to pursue that into the underworld, so she uses her skills as a freelance IT specialist.
I couldn’t imagine her harboring a dark and unattractive part of her.
She dips her head to the side, looking back at me inquisitively.
“What do you see when you look at me?” I ask self-consciously. I’m curious as to how I come across from the outside. I’ve never much cared before, but suddenly, I do.
She seems surprised by the question but smiles. “A girl who, for the most part, can handle her tequila considering her size.”
I laugh, and it dispels the self-consciousness I was feeling before. She continues. “But you’re one of the most incredible people I know, and not because we grew up together. I see a woman who shouldn’t be fucked with. I think there’s a side to you that even you’re not ready to expose. And I won’t pry until you’re ready to tell me about it. But you know, no matter what, that you can tell me.”
A small wave of relief passes through me. Ivy, always the socialite, is surprisingly perceptive. But her true value is her ability to be a vault when it comes to secrets. If I give her a job, like cutting out a particular property’s security, she does it, no questions asked, and money exchanged. Maybe one day I can tell her, but I’m still scared of how she’ll react.
My phone rings again, and I huff, irritated. This time, Braxton’s name appears.
Like fuck I’m answering his call.
My agent calls again. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumble, and Ivy tries not to laugh. Ivy and Billie always laugh when I become flustered because it’s so opposite to my calm and steady nature. I think it’s also why Ivy tries to rile me up sometimes.
“It must be important if she’s been calling all night. Just answer it,” she says, patting me on the back. It’s probably something to do with our flight in two days.
I answer the call. “Oh, thank fuck you picked up,” Candice says. Okay, so I’ve never heard her swear. “It’s bad, Hope.”
“What is?” I ask, my head starting to spin again from the tequila.
She’s silent for a moment. “It’s about Kylie. She’s dead.”
CHAPTER 33
Braxton
For the first time in many years, I’m shocked. I stare at the cold, lifeless body of Kylie, who was strangled from behind with what looks like the belt of a dress. She’s still propped up, sitting in the chair of her lover’s home.