Page 18 of Twisted Lies 3
Zuri responded with a husky laugh. “Nope. Just your undying obedience to the king.”
“Ain’t happening.”
“Wow. I think you and I are going to be besties. Can I come in?” she pleaded huskily.
I ran my eyes over her while rubbing an ear.
“Pretty please?” Zuri pouted playfully.
I gestured her in. “Sure.”
A genuine smile lit up her face before she strutted past me, working skintight jeans and an off-the-shoulder black top. Her outfit was teamed with a mini top-handle bag, a small black shopping bag, and chic ankle boots. Essentially, she resembled a celebrity who had just jetted in from London. And I looked like death warmed over with my scrubbed-clean face and dark circles under my eyes.
She sucked in a quick breath. “Wow, beautiful place, Sin.” Arching down, she brushed her fingers across the old worn trunk positioned next to my workstation like an accent piece. “Vintage?”
“No.” I laughed. “Just some ratty old trunk that used to belong to my father.”
Zuri stood up. “Things of sentimental value are always the most treasured pieces. Reminds you of where you’ve come from.”
I smiled slightly. “So true.”
Dad’s trunk used to evoke all the sad memories associated with losing him so suddenly. But after years of mourning his loss, I’d decided to celebrate his life by pulling it out of hiding from the closet in my guest bedroom. Now, I admired it every day. It was a source of inspiration to never give up on my dream of making my collection a reality. Dad would have wanted me to be happy and successful, both in life and in business. His trunk was that constant reminder.
“My dad’s trunk had more of an interesting life than most people I know. It was dragged around the country to every place we moved to.”
The scratched leather was so worn and dirty that I couldn’t tell the original color.
“Sounds like happy family memories. I wish we all could be that lucky,” Zuri remarked in a monotone voice. Suddenly, she swayed over to the racks of hanging clothes. “Sin,” she squealed dramatically. “You’re the fucking Michelangelo of fashion.” She touched the red cable-knit dress with a bustle and swath of chiffon peeking naughtily from its backside. “I’ve never seen anything this spectacular.” She twirled to face me with a wide smile. “I can’t wait to buy every damn piece.”
“Thanks.” Warmth radiated throughout my body. My collection was an homage to my twisted sensibility and willful disregard of conventional fashion. They were pieces designed by a woman, not a man’s fantasy of women.
With raised eyebrows, she asked, “Is your collection complete?”
“Nope. I have five more pieces to go,” I replied before padding over to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of sparkling water from the refrigerator. “Would you like one?”
“No, thanks.” Zuri moved away from my work area, surveying my townhouse. Without invitation, she sank down onto my favorite chaise, crossing her long legs and making herself at home.
I leaned a hip against the kitchen counter, and Zuri and I watched each other silently. Strangely, it wasn’t a tense and awkward moment. It was more of a should-I-like-you analysis. Grudgingly, I concluded that I liked her so far. She nodded and smiled as if she’d also come to the same conclusion about me.
“So, Zuri, why are you here?”
“Honestly?” She pursed her bright-red pouty lips. “I just had to meet the woman who has Core all grumpy and sexually frustrated.”
I strode over, sitting down in the plush chair directly across from her. “I’m pretty sure that fucker is always grumpy.” I curled my feet under me. “And sexually frustrated? I highly doubt it. He looks like he gets knee-deep in pussy on a pretty regular basis.”
“Fucker?” Zuri burst out laughing. “Wait till I tell the team Core has a new nickname.” She chortled so hard a tear trickled at the corner of her eye.
I shrugged. “Just call it as I see it.”
She sobered up. “But the knee-deep in sex part is totally off base. Well, at least recently.” Her eyes twinkled. She snapped her fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot the real reason for my visit. Over there.”
She gestured to the bag next to my chair. It was a small black shopping bag from an expensive and exclusive boutique in SoHo that catered to ultra-rich socialites and edgy celebrities. It wasn’t unusual to see clothes from there on the red carpet. It was also a boutique I absolutely loved.
“It’s a gift from Core.”
“What type of gift?” My chest tightened.
Zuri’s eyes gleamed. “Open it and find out.”
