Page 63 of Lady Killer

It was a possibility I couldn’t ignore.

She clearly had some sort of connection to Aaron based on her reaction when she saw us at the party. And while my gut told me Simone was trustworthy, too many girls had turned up dead lately for me to risk Autumn on a hunch.

So, under the guise of wanting to talk about Japanese pottery and get to know my bestie’s girlfriend, I met with Simone on a Monday afternoon early in February.

I arrived at the café on time, surprised to find her already seated inside. She stood up from a cozy corner table to greet me with a small smile.

“Luz.” Her posh British accent put a whole new twist on my name.

“Hi, Simone,” I said, making an effort to smile.

I liked her. Why was I nervous?

If she’s hiding something that could hurt Autumn, it’s going to suck . . .

Oh, yeah.

“I’m just going to grab a latte. Can I get you anything?” I said, coming to a stop in front of the table.

“No, thank you. I already ordered a cup of tea. They should be bringing it over shortly.”

“Cool, uh, I’ll be right back then.” I shuffled backward away from the table before pivoting to head to place my order.

I ordered a latte and one of those giant chocolate chip cookies they always seemed to have at fancy coffee shops.

By the time I returned to Simone, her tea had arrived, along with my cookie.

“They said your coffee will be along shortly.” She blew gently before taking a tentative sip.

Simone was beautiful in a regal sort of way. Her umber skin glowed even in the dim light of the coffee house, and she had full dark lips and defined cheekbones that gave her an aristocratic air. She wore her black kinky curls cropped close to her head. More than anything, she carried herself with a sense of commanding grace—her posture was perfect as she sat tall with her hands placed one on top of the other.

“You said you wanted to talk about Japanese lacquerware?” she said, eyeing me over the still steamy cup of tea.

My mouth was full of cookie, and I took the opportunity to prepare my approach.

Simone beat me to it. “Or did you want to talk about something else?”

A straight shooter. That I could appreciate.

“Yes, actually,” I said as I dusted the crumbs off my fingers.

She arched one manicured eyebrow at me. Her nostrils flared as she shifted ever so slightly in herseat.

“The night we met, at the Andover party,” I began, choosing my words carefully.

Her slim fingers tightened their hold on the large white mug, but she merely looked at me appraisingly before speaking. “When you dumped Autumn on me?”

“I didn’t—‍”

“One full-fat latte, over here?” A barista cut me off.

“Oh, yes,” I said, waving.

He placed it on the table, and every second felt weighted as I considered how to parry Simone.

I sat back with my latte in hand and crossed my legs at the ankles. “You can’t tell me that it didn’t work out for the best?” I raised my drink to take a sip.

“I could have been anyone.”

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