Mischievous Lies (Vengeful Lies #5) Read Online T.L. Smith

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: Vengeful Lies Series by T.L. Smith
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Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
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Maybe there’s something in the air because I start feeling nauseous myself. The alcohol is hitting me, which is weird because I’ve only had two shots and can usually drink far more before I start feeling sick. I pull out my phone to check the time. I haven’t even been here for an hour. I feel my forehead. Am I sick? No, I don’t think so.

I struggle to focus on the person speaking to me, their words blurring and their voice getting fuzzy. I can’t quite comprehend what they’re saying.

“Ivy.” I don’t know who says my name, but I wave them off and try to find somewhere to sit. I think I need another glass of water. Did I eat today? Maybe that’s why I feel tipsy. I usually eat before I drink because otherwise, I feel sick. I don’t exactly feel sick right now, but something isn’t right.

CHAPTER 15

Hawke

I’m in a bad mood. Not only did the deal between Eli and one of his distributors go well, but he’s also advised that Ford and I can finish early for the night. This calm shit is starting to make me restless. I thought I’d be able to carve at least one person up tonight, but everyone seems to be falling into line. It’s fucking weird.

“Pearl?” I suggest to Ford as he drives. He side-eyes me. We’ve just dropped Eli off at his mansion, and I already know the answer. “You’re boring now that you have a girlfriend,” I say sulkily.

He sighs. “You know, I never enjoyed going to those clubs anyway. I always went to make sure you didn’t get into trouble.”

I smile. “Aren’t you worried I’ll get into trouble now?”

“Always. Maybe you should pick up another hobby besides drinking and fucking.”

My jaw drops. “Blasphemy!” I exclaim as I open my phone and begin scrolling.

I’m looking to see what everyone else is up to, and that’s when I come across a recent story from the one and only Ivy Walker. My eyebrow raises. I can see now why she couldn’t answer my call. She’s too busy getting cozied up with some dickhead. Ivy never posts images of guys. And, okay, it might just be his hand holding a drink, but I already want to fucking break it. More so because I know without seeing the body attached to the said hand that, I’m a lot more fun. That’s all I’m looking for tonight— some fun. And I have a roadmap directly to that location.

The moment we arrive at Ford’s, I’m out of his car and into mine. He looks at me like I’ve grown a third head. “You’re not coming in tonight?” he asks.

The truth is, I know he and Billie want their own time together. Everyone jokes that I can’t read a room, and although Ford and Billie don’t treat me any differently, I know I need to create space for them that’s independent of me.

“Not tonight, brother. One of us has to have some fun.” I wink and put the car into drive. I blast my music as I tap my thumb against the steering wheel.

It seems my little lover thinks she can go on a date without me. But it’s like she wants me to find her with the tag of her location.

She posted the story over an hour ago, but I’m gambling on the chance that she’s still here. If not, I’ll track her down in my own way.

I park my car at the curb, and before I’ve even opened the door, a bouncer approaches with his hand outstretched. “You can’t park there.”

I step out, coming to my full height, and square him up. I make a point to lock my car as I step up and loom over him. The dickhead actually pales as I calmly ask him, “You sure about that?”

He gulps. Part of me hopes he says it twice. I wasn’t able to entertain myself tonight, and if he’s the only fucker coming between me and fixing my boredom, then it’ll be his downfall.

“M-maybe just once is okay,” he stammers, and I give him a bright smile as I pat his shoulder.

“Make sure no one scratches my car, or I’ll make you personally accountable for it,” I say as I head for the restaurant’s entrance. I fucking love my car.

The moment I step inside, my ears are assaulted by loud chatter and even louder music. Drunk women are laughing and dancing in groups scattered throughout the space. Trays of alcohol are being distributed, and I sift through the bodies, looking for the curves I’ve memorized by heart.

My gaze catches on the hand of some guy at the bar, and I change course to head in that fucker’s direction. He has the same tattoo on his hand as the guy in Ivy’s photo; however, he currently has that hand around another woman. Honestly, the ugly-ass tattoo looks like it was done by a two-year-old. Without hesitation, I walk straight up to him. The woman he’s with turns and spots me first, her lips curve seductively as she scans me from head to toe, like she just found a new snack. When he turns around and catches sight of me, he pales. I don’t blame him. I plan to cut that hand off him.


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