Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
God, she wanted him so badly.
In the bathroom, she took her phone out of the back pocket of her tight pants and called up a text screen. When she was done sending the message to her brother, she extricated herself out of the thigh-high boots with care and did the same for the leather top.
It was like peeling a frickin’ grape.
She made sure the shower was long, and very hot.
When she finally stepped out, she checked her phone and saw what Rhamp had sent back.
“Figures,” she muttered. At least he hadn’t bumped her.
Heading for the walk-in closet, she changed into yet another set of the clothes that were there, the turtleneck sweater and jeans cozy, the snow boots far, far more practical. As she hung up her influencer outfit and propped the thigh-highs in the corner, she lingered a moment. Then she folded up Dev’s windbreaker, and hid it in the back of one of the built-in drawers. After that, she turned off the lights and went for the exit.
Along the way, she checked her phone a couple of times, hoping for something from Dev.
He didn’t reach out, though.
All kinds of when-and-wheres about tomorrow night shot through her mind, but she had to leave them be. Not only did she not want to chase him, but she had something else to do that seemed vitally important—although she couldn’t believe she’d have to go twenty-four hours before she could get in front of him again.
Instead of leaving by the door, she cracked one of the windows, closed her eyes… and tried to calm herself.
It was a while before she could dematerialize, but she wasn’t surprised. When she re-formed, it was in front of a modern mansion that was lit up on the inside like some kind of display cabinet. Cars of various European extractions were parked in the drive, and the front door was wide open, in spite of the cold. The music was techno-swing, a new genre she hadn’t gotten into, and she didn’t need to be anywhere near the entrance to smell the red smoke, the liquor, the perfumes and colognes.
It was typical Shuli.
As she approached the cacophony, she marveled at how she’d been to the male’s shindigs for years, and had always looked forward to them. She’d liked the excuse to get dressed up and do her OOTD posts—and then there was the gossip, and her friends, and the shenanigans that Rhamp and his buddies always got up to as the hours wore on and critical thinking became less and less critical. Besides, what else had she had to do with herself?
Now, though, as she entered the white-on-white foyer with all its contemporary art, she wondered why she’d wasted so much time, hanging around with the same people, as the same conversations and jokes were shared.
“Lyric!”
The sound of her name brought her head around. Mharta was heading for her, the female looking sleek and sexy as ever in a skintight pantsuit. Another blonde, but she was not at all like Lyric in her style, opting for sex, before fashion.
“Hey, girl.” As they kissed on both cheeks, those judgy eyes went up and down Lyric’s sweater and jeans as if the female were looking at a dead squirrel. “How’d the leather top work out?”
“Oh—sorry, great. Thank you for loaning it to me. I’m going to dry-clean before I return it.”
“Not quite your usual shit, but I’ll bet you were fabulous in it.” The smile was patronizing, but not in a mean way. It was just how Mharta had always been. “I can see you’ve downshifted into comfy. How cute.”
And of course, both c-words were curses.
“Do you know where my brother is?” Lyric rose up on her toes and tried to see through the heads.
“No, and I can’t find L.W., either. They’re probably together—or they blew this off?”
“Rhamp, miss a party? Come on. Besides, he texted me he’s here.”
And also not to bother him. But she wasn’t hearing that.
“Well, I haven’t seen him.” The female frowned. “They better not have left without us.”
“He got in touch with me only twenty minutes ago.”
Mharta swung her stick straight blond hair over her shoulder, and it flowed down her back like a river. “Their loss. I’m going to leave—you want to go to Bathe with us?”
I’d rather lose a limb, Lyric thought.
“No, thanks. I’m going to try to find my brother.”
“If you see him, tell him he and L.W. are on my shit list.” Those red lips smiled easily. “But you know me, I’m a forgiver. Especially if it’s L.W.”
Mharta disappeared into the crowd of sophisticates, and Lyric kept going on her own way, squeezing between males in silk suits and females in haute couture. As she went along, she was reminded of how she’d always found Shuli’s house to be stark and way too modern, especially when it came to his taste in art. Then again, if you were going to pack a couple hundred people into these rooms on a regular basis, you might as well leave enough free space to accommodate them.