Page 15 of Heartless Game

Just don’t be stupid. But I’ll look into her for you. Be good, little bro.

I rolled my eyes, smirking despite myself. Liza was only a year older than me, but she acted like she had all this life experience on me. I loved my brilliant sister, even if I wish she didn’t take my father’s side. But then again, she’d always wanted what I dreaded: to lead the family.

Getting in my car, I headed home. As I drove, I realized something that made me grin.

I might not know why Tovah was hiding her identity.

But I knew shewas, which meant I finally had leverage over her. I didn’t know what I planned to do with it yet, but the knowledge made me feel better than I had all night.

“Good luck, Tovah Lewis,” I murmured to myself as I steered the car home. “You’re going to fucking need it.”

6

Tovah

The next night, I stared at myself in the mirror. My pink hair was curled into mermaid waves, my eyelids were painted a soft rose gold and lined with bronze liner, and my lips were painted in my favorite pink gloss. My cheeks were a soft pink, and not from blush—but there was nothing I could do about that.

I was wearing black leggings and a tight black button down that emphasized my chest and ass. And yeah, all the other bumps and swells society liked to shame people over having. “Plump,” “fat,” “plus-sized,” “curvy,” or whatever the hell they wanted to call me: it didn’t matter. In my opinion, these extra curves added to my appeal.

Society could suck it.

I looked amazing. Like, hot as hell. Hotter than hell, even.

And I was disgusted with myself.

“Damn it,” I told my reflection. “You’re trying too hard, Tovah Kaufman. Why are you trying so hard?”

Kaufman wasn’t actually my last name, but I’d trained myself to respond to it, so I answered to it—and only to it. Even when I was alone and talking to myself.

That didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that I’d put in a ton of effort for a meeting with the last man in the world I wanted to find me attractive.

I pointed at myself in the mirror. “Liar.”

Because Iwaslying.

Regardless, I brushed my hair to mess up the waves and curls, and put makeup remover on a cotton pad, rubbing at my eyes and lips until my face was bare.

Better.

Now he’d know I didn’t care.

Even if I knew I did.

I turned to leave the bathroom and find something else to wear—maybe a hoodie and sweatpants, when I stopped in my tracks.

Why was I putting so much effort intonotlooking cute? What was I trying to prove? It was a Saturday night, and I was going out after the interview with my friend Lucy, so we could bitch about men together and dance our asses off. Was I really going to come all the way home to change when I could just meet her after the interview?

Glaring at my reflection, I pulled out the makeup I’d just taken off and the curling iron and started over from scratch. I would be late to the bar where we were having our meeting but not…that late. And the asshole could learn patience—it would be good for him.

The Stacks was the bar I worked at. It didn’t open for another couple of hours, and I was the only one who was supposed to be there from now until opening time. I could have a private conversation with Isaac without anyone overhearing, in a mostly neutral location—but one where I was in control.

And, as my fallback plan: The Stacks’ giant bouncer, Alex, lived above the bar. If things got…tricky with Isaac, I could always text him to come down. Isaac might be the big bad mafia prince, but Alex was 6’7” and weighed three hundred pounds—practically all muscle.

There.Sorted.

A half hour later, I was made up, hair done, a coat and scarf wrapped around me. It was a cold night, and I hoped my car didn’t take forever to warm up.

My car did me one worse. When I got in and turned on the ignition, it sputtered a few times before giving up entirely.

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