Page 74 of Lady Killer

“She stood, looking at him with murder in her eyes.”

Desire, and something darker, smoldered in his gaze, and I swallowed.

“And from that moment, I was obsessed.”

Chapter twenty-two

Nixon

Ifucking loved the smell of pot. Orcannabisas we were supposed to call it now.

Stubbing the cherry out on the antique ottoman my feet rested on, I watched the leather turn black and then burn away.

What was it the gay guy said inMidnight in the Garden of Good and Evil? New money would fix that shit right away, old money would leave it alone. Guess we’d find out what the Schaefflers reallywere.

The fumes mixed with the lingering scent of the joint, making my nose burn. I took in a deep breath.

It was the weekend before Valentine’s Day. Ali and Ever had both been insistent on staying near their precious little bitch queen.

“Think, Nixie, think. It’s Valentine’s Day, a large-scale capitalist con job masquerading as a holiday centered around . . . drumroll please, Ali . . . Hearts.”

“When the fuck did it become our job to keep the bitch alive?”

A scalpel flew through the air, passing my ear by millimeters before embedding itself in the painting on the wall.

My painting, of fucking course.

It was like even the mention of her name caused destruction and chaos around me.

And instead of seeing her for the nuisance she was, my entire family had somehow fallen under her spell.

Okay, Locke hated her guts.

Old perv would still fuck her though.

But Ever?

I had never seen him give even the slightest of fucks about anyone other than Lucian, which showed just how deeply his infatuation with the girl ran.

And, Lucian, my big brother, the head of the fucking family and arguably the most ruthless man I knew, foundout she’d been playing fucking doctor on Blackwell land, and what did he do? He let her live, and now we were working with her.

But worst of all was Alister. My fucking twin.

I was older than him by six minutes. Six minutes.

It was a speck of dust over the course of a lifetime. But for us, it was everything.

The smell started to fade from the air, and the hum of the party around me filtered back into my consciousness before a smooth feminine voice broke through the last of my haze.

“Nix.”

“Isabella.” I acknowledged her with a tip of my cup.

Fuck, they didn’t even spring for decent vodka.

The tall blonde slid into the seat next to me, crossing her long, exposed legs at the ankle, and wrapping one arm around the back of the couch before tossing her hair over one shoulder.

She was wearing too much perfume.

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