Page 13 of The Deceptions
He stops dead, pulling me into him and gently kissing my lips. "You're ours, right, Trouble?" He murmurs my nickname against my lips like a sin laced with a promise. Of what? I’m not sure. But I’m eager to find out.
Shivers fall down my spine. Goosebumps form on my flesh when his pupils dilate and a smirk pulls at his lips.
"Yes," I say without an ounce of hesitation. "I'm yours. 2-2-4."
He smiles. "2-2-4."
"So, what are we waiting on?" Mack quips, smacking my ass. "Let's go get naked and..."
"Macklyn," I groan, pushing him on the shoulder. "Be romantic or something."
"Romantic," he scoffs. "I'll show you romance, Buttercup." He winks at me, giving me a shit-eating grin.
"I'm so convinced," I jest, poking his pec, and he grabs my finger, squishing me between him and Hux.
"You will be convinced, baby. We'll prove to you just how romantic we can be." He kisses the tip of my nose.
I blow out a breath, trying to shake the memory from my mind. Fuck that memory. Fuck that day.
Fuck it all.
I tear into my new identity with force, almost shredding the large envelope.
My eyes scan the sheet of paper, and my brows furrow. Jonathan's words from before ring in my mind.“They won't recognize you.”
And now, I see why.
Oliver James Davenport. Male. Parents deceased, living with Uncle Jonathan in East Point, California. Birthdate, December 24th. 22 years old.
Not Olivia. Not even a woman.
Mother fucking fuck.
I slam down the paper on the bed more forcefully than necessary. Yeah, they won't recognize me at all. And they'll definitely let me into their gang if I play my role right.
Because I won't be a woman trying to seduce them into bed with me.
I'll be Oliver fucking Davenport.
A man in disguise.
A secret fucking girl.
You know,I’ve watched the movieShe’s the Man. Many times over. Want a live reenactment line by line? I'm your girl. Hell, I’ve even read a few good books on the subject. Girl binds her breasts, dresses in baggier clothes, and infiltrates a prep school or goes undercover to solve a murder. Or whatever her reason may be.
Now it’s my turn.
Apparently.
I didn’t bother confronting Jonathan when I ran out of the hotel like my ass was on fire. Not after studying my newest case for a few hours until the sun was slowly setting in the sky and going over every word in the document. Nope. I didn’t bother to stop when he called my name, begging for me to come back and talk about it. Fat chance, buddy. I hightailed it out of the hotel with rage in my throat and my fingers curling into fists.
I need time to swallow everything that’s happened today. Between being back in Greenwood without warning andstanding above my own fucking grave to this. This is the pivotal moment in my life where I have to choose if this is what’s right for me. This case? Facing my past?
My phone buzzes on the gray and white granite bar top, taking my mind off the mental crisis brewing inside me.
Jonathan
We have a lot to discuss when you get back. I understand you’re feeling a lot. Take your time, Seven. But I want you to keep in mind that by going through with this case, you’re in line for a raise and promotion. You’ve worked hard these past few years…
