Page 25 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
We both know that’s wishful thinking. My mother religiously scours every newspaper, magazine, and trash-talking rag for any mention of my name. When she sees my name next to Parker’s, it’s going to be World War III.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she hunted him down and put a bullet through his head.
“Well, you looked amazing, anyway. That dress was kick ass.” Tabby pauses. “So are you going to see Mr. It’s Not Personal again, or was the slap an actual fuck-you, and not just your usual warm and fuzzy way of thanking a man for flowers?”
I massage my temples. “Can you please wait until after I’ve had my coffee to be clever? I can’t deal with clever without caffeine.”
“Sure.” She checks her watch. “I’ll give you three minutes. That’s as long as I can hold off the clever. There’s so much of it, it tends to come bursting through.”
I drink my coffee. Tabby stares at me. The phone on my desk stops ringing, and then, after a momentary pause, begins to ring again.
Tabby waits until it stops to say, “You know, when I was doing my research on him, I thought it was really interesting that he’s originally from Laredo, Texas. Like you. And he went to J.B. Alexander High School. Like you.”
Her stare is piercing. When I don’t reply, she adds, “If there’s anything there, I need to know, Victoria. I have to know what to stay on top of. Your name has now been linked with his in the press, and if there’s some past connection that could be unearthed—”
“It’s him.”
Surprised, Tabby blinks. “Him? Him who?”
I lower my head and look at her. “Him.”
Her lips part. Her eyes go wide. She whispers, “Holy fucking shit.”
“Exactly.”
“Does he know it’s you? You you?”
When I shake my head, she heaves a relieved sigh. “So then he doesn’t know about—”
“No.” It comes out hard and clipped, with an edge like a razor.
Tabby stands and slowly walks around the desk. Looking out the window to the bright morning light, she asks, “Are you going to tell him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She turns to look at me. “Then what’s this about?”
I take a long swallow of my coffee. After a moment I say softly, “Justice.”
“In other words, revenge.”
I remain silent. Though I’d denied to Tabby that there was anything personal between Parker and me only last week, I knew she’d eventually figure it out. But the article in the Post—and every other stalkerazzi rag—has forced my hand.
Maybe it’s better this way. Tabby’s right. She needs to know what she’s dealing with if she’s going to have to make things disappear.
I wonder if Parker has things in his past he needs to make disappear. I wonder about that gap of his that Tabby told me about, the two mysterious years when it seemed he’d vanished from the earth.
Now I realize that my prior plan of getting him to fall for me and dumping him has been entirely too simple. I need to up the ante.
I need to ruin his life.
An eye for an eye, darling bastard.
“Tabby, I need you to dig deeper on him. Find out everything. Go back as far as you can. There’s got to be something there, something I can use. Look at his family, his father in particular. There’s no way he’s clean. Just get me anything I can use. Anything at all.”
“Use to do what?”
“To get us square.”
