I stumble, lose my footing, and crash to the tile floor on my knees.
“I’m thinking Dominic Morretti had the right idea. No reason for a woman to be broke in Las Vegas, Yvette. Not when you can make a grip of money on your knees. Figure you’re doin’ it anyway; may as well get paid for it.”
Pain spears through me, but I don’t cry. His overused insults have lost their sting. The sound of his high-pitched laughter accompanies the shuffle of his feet until the silence announces he’s gone.
What the fuck am I going to do now? I slump down against the wall and contemplate all the things I should’ve said or done, starting with not answering the door. I lie there for a long time, exhausted and ashamed, until I realize the place isn’t going to clean itself.
I push up off the floor and take in my kitchen that has been tossed by my own dad. I fork my hands into my hair and concentrate on my breathing. Okay . . . I’ve been through worse and survived. Surely I’ll get through this too.
Headlights shine in through the front window. I peek out, hoping he didn’t come back to search the rest of the house.
“Oh no.”
Not Dad.
But a sleek, black, Maserati.
*
Cameron
It’s almost midnight when the last of the catering vans pulls out of my driveway. Wrapping this party up took longer than I expected. I can’t believe I never thought to get Eve’s number.
I fire up the Maserati and hit the freeway to Eve’s house. My foot falls heavy on the gas as visions of seeing her leave with Mason flash behind my eyes. His arm wrapped around her body, the same body that fell apart beneath my mouth just minutes before. Eve. What is it about her that makes me react like some lust-drunk kid?
Figuring it all out is a waste of time. Hell, I can’t even remember what I’m doing tomorrow much less dissect my thoughts. I pull up to her house and kill the headlights. The place is dark. I hope she didn’t fall asleep. If so, I’m waking her ass up.
I knock on the door and it drifts open. Unlocked and left cracked? Adrenaline fires my blood. I push in. The only light comes from the kitchen. “Eve?”
“Oh, um, I’m in here.” Her voice’s rough, but hurried.
I move into the kitchen to find her slamming closed drawers and cupboards. She whirls around to face me, sending her hair in an arc that cascades over her shoulders. What the hell is going on in here?
“Hey, I’m . . . are you ready?” Her eyes dart to a drawer she must’ve missed, and she reaches over to quickly slam it shut. “Let me grab my things.” She ducks her head and tries to skate past me.
“Hold on.” I snag her arm to stop her, but a hiss slides from her lips, and I release her. “What the fuck’s going on, Eve?”
Wide eyes swing to mine. “Huh? What makes you think something’s going on?” Her voice is higher than it was before, a telltale sign that shit ain’t right.
I turn my back on her and wander around the small kitchen. It doesn’t look much different than it did the last time I was here, except now there are random items sticking out of mostly closed drawers.
“Find what you were looking for?” I meet her gaze and watch panic flash behind her eyes.
“Mm-hm?” Jeez, she’s a terrible liar.
I make a show of shoving things back inside, buying time and hoping she’ll come clean and that I won’t have to force her to confide in me.
She keeps her lips zipped, which doesn’t surprise me.
“Who did this?” I lean back against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. I’m not moving an inch until she explains to me why she was racing around her kitchen shoving shit in drawers and looks spooked out of her mind.
“Nothing, I’m ready to go if—” She points over her shoulder.
“Didn’t ask what, I asked who.”
Her mouth tightens and her eyes get hard. “Leave it alone.”
“So you admit there was someone here?”
“Cameron—”
“Mason do this? Go through your place and leave you scared as shit and lying to me?” My voice gets louder with every word as my temper takes hold.
“Don’t worry about—”
“I’ll pay the little shit a visit right now.” I push up off the counter and head for the door.
“No, wait!”
I ignore her, my vision clouded with red.
“Please, don’t.”
I reach the front door the same time her hand clamps around my elbow.
“It wasn’t him. It . . . Please, just know that Mason didn’t do anything.”
“Start talking.”
Her hand releases me, and she takes a few steps back until she’s halted by the wall. She slides down and pulls her long pink dress up to drape it between her cocked legs.
“Someone break in? If so, we need to file a report.”
“No.” Her head rolls back to the wall. “Don’t call the cops. I did this to myself.”
“Did what?” My fists clench tight.
“Mason dropped me off—”
“Already know this. Now I’m losing my patience.”