Page 9 of Dead Wrong

Edward started back, unblinking.

“Yes.”

“There’s a good boy. Now, take off that ridiculous hat and go home.”

As I withdrew my shroud of magic, Edward’s trembling hand removed the cardboard hat, setting it on the bar. Without another word, he turned from me, weaving his way through the crowded dance floor toward the exit. I lost sight of him from there, but my work was already complete.

I waved to the closest bartender, motioning to close out my tab, but they were too absorbed in a conversation to notice me. By the time I was able to finally able to flag someone down, the barstool to my left had been filled.

“Where are you off to, Tobi?”

I didn’t have to look to know who had taken Edward’s place. She must have been close by, counting on me to break tonight.

I let out a heavy sigh. “I really did put in the effort, Lenny. You have to give me some credit.”

Lynette propped an elbow on the bar, resting her chin on it. Her emerald eyes shined with an amusement that only came from teasing her brother. “Do I now? I’m fairly certain I still won our little wager, no matter how you want to frame it. So, pay up, little brother.”

As much as I didn’t want to admit my defeat, I knew she had me dead to rights. Reaching inside the pocket of my jacket, I retrieved the golden foil-wrapped rectangle and placed it on the bar in front of Lynette.

“To the victor goes the spoils.”

She swiped up her prize, hastily unwrapping the top half with a giddiness that I would never understand. The sweet smell of chocolate wafted into the air, mulling with the stinging stench of spilled alcohol. Lynette snapped off a square of the chocolate, raising it to her mouth and taking a long, exaggerated inhale before biting it. A soft groan rumbled through her chest.

“It tastes so much better when suffused with the joys of winning.”

“You’re disgusting,” I snickered, pulling at the lapels of my jacket to straighten them. “Where is your decorum?”

“Back at the consulate with Mother, where it belongs. Where’s your date?”

“You’ve already won, Lenny. No need to gloat.”

She leaned in closer, her teeth stained with chocolate and her breath sweet. “Unfortunately, you’ve yet to learn your lesson, so I’m allowed to gloat as long as I wish.”

I exhaled, rubbing at my temples. “Our schooling ended ages ago. Why must you torture me with these asinine lessons of yours?”

Lynette didn’t answer right away, taking her time to watch me with eyes that mirrored my own. Although we weren’t identical, Lynette and I shared more features than not. The same warm, coppery curls, though hers draped down to her shoulders while mine were cut short. The same alabaster complexion, complete with a smattering of freckles that burst to life with only the slightest coaxing of the sun. The same arched brows, constantly reaching for the sky as if they were always slightly amused—though that often couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Did Mother tell you to wear that?” she asked, decidedly ignoring my question.

I looked down at the sapphire-colored double-breasted vest, working my fingers under the edge and giving it a gentle tug to make sure it wasn’t riding up. “She might have suggested it. Why do you ask?”

Her hand moved, subtle enough that most wouldn’t notice, but I clearly clocked the golden shimmer of magic ripple along her skin as the buttons burst from my vest, scattering across the floor and disappearing into the crowd. The ignorant bar patrons didn’t notice the magical maneuver as someone across the room erupted in a rallying cry, a gaggle of beverages being raised above heads in response.

“Was that absolutely necessary?” I asked, running fingers down my tie to ensure it wasn’t also a casualty of my sister’s impish game. “Those buttons are sterling silver.”

Lynette snorted a laugh. “And? Since when do you care?”

“Since Mother put me on an allowance,” I snapped, causing Lynette to recoil. “Not all of us have the privilege of being a Successor. I still have to prove my worth to stay in Mother’s good graces.”

Lynette groaned, reaching across the bar to nab a glass and a clear bottle of spirits. The bartender closest to her doesn’t bat an eyelash, too absorbed in conversation with a brunette clad in leather to notice. She poured herself a shot, slurping it down before saying, “Trust me, you have the better deal.”

“Right,” I scoffed. She couldn’t be serious. “Yes, flirting and fucking my way through Adored nobility at the behest of our mother is far better than wielding immeasurable power.” I tipped forward, sliding off the stool and once again trying to get the attention of the bartender. I weighed the pros and cons of leaving with my tab unpaid. It may be worth it to rid myself of this place that much sooner.

“You’re wrong,” Lynette said, pouring another round and sliding it over to me. “We’re both whoring ourselves out. But at least your whoring can be a little fun. Edward wasn’t the worst person to look at.”

“He’s an idiot,” I corrected her, taking the offered drink and downing it in one go. The alcohol burned the back of my throat—a byproduct of cheap liquor—and I coughed before adding, “The biggest idiot of his family, which is really saying something.”

Finally, one of the bartenders caught my eye, and I motioned in the air to pantomime signing the check. The bartender gave me a brisk nod before disappearing around the corner. Maybe this one would actually come back.

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