Page 18 of The Viper
Charleston was pulling me into its web, and I was starting to wonder if the trap had already been set.
7
LEXI
The next morning, I woke to the sound of my name. Sharp. Precise. The way my sister said it when she was trying not to yell.
“Lexi.”
My eyes snapped open. Sunlight poured through gauzy curtains, too bright, too honest. My tongue felt like cotton, my brain like static. I knew that tone—it was the sound of Hannah’s patience stretched thin, the one that came right before she started talking like our mother.
I rolled over and blinked at her silhouette in the doorway. Coffee cup in hand. Hair perfect. Fury disguised as calm.
“Morning,” I rasped.
“Don’t,” she said. Just the one word. A command.
I sat up slowly, the sheet sliding down to my waist. Carrie appeared behind her, wearing a peace-offering smile.
“I brought caffeine,” she said lightly.
“That bad?”
Hannah’s expression didn’t move. “Try catastrophic.” She set her cup down on my nightstand like punctuation. “You were trending at three a.m. #LexiMontgomeryFightNight.”
My stomach dropped.
Carrie winced. “It’s bad optics, babe. But we can manage it.”
I rubbed my temples. “I didn’t fight anyone. I didn’t even hit anyone.”
“No,” Hannah said, “but someone did. Someone who looked a lot like your date.”
“He wasn’t my date,” I shot back. “I don’t even know his name.”
Her brows lifted, sharp. “Even better.”
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, pressing my palms to my knees. The wooden floor was cool against my bare feet, the quiet hum of the ceiling fan almost mocking. “I just needed air,” I said, quieter now. “The house feels like a museum. I couldn’t sleep. I thought?—”
“That you’d sneak out alone late at night?” Hannah cut in. “In a new city? Without security?”
I met her eyes. “That I’d feel normal for five minutes.”
“Normal?” She laughed once, incredulous. “You’re the most recognizable woman on the East Coast right now. There’s no normal for you. There never will be again.”
Something hot and defiant rose in my chest. “That’s exactly the problem.”
Carrie cleared her throat gently. “Maybe we sit?”
No one moved. The air between my sister and me crackled. We’d fought before—over contracts, wardrobe, men—but this one felt different. Older. Like something that had been simmering for years was finally boiling over.
“You think I like being followed?” I said. “You think I enjoy pretending to be grateful every time a stranger shoves a camera in my face?”
“I think you forget what all that attention pays for,” Hannah snapped. “The houses. The trips. The security. The privacy you claim to hate losing.”
I stood. “You mean the control you get off on having.”
Her lips parted, hurt flashing in her eyes. “That’s not fair.”
