“True.”
“Hey, Zion!” One of the footballers broke off and jogged up to us. “We’re uneven, man. Come play.”
“Do you mind?” he asked me.
“Nah. Go ahead. I’m about to sneak some tea out of the kitchen and curl up on my balcony with a book. The party’s over for me.”
“See you in the morning.” He winked. “The adventure begins.”
“Oh, sweetie, you used the wrong word. You meant nightmare.”
Zion ran away laughing his head off.
Picking myself up, I trudged into the house and made good on my threat to invade the kitchen. The lights were off. Surfaces wiped down, sanitized, and gleaming. The soft hum that accompanied every kitchen led me to the fridge. I hit the jackpot with a can of condensed milk, and made myself a steaming pot of milky tea. My pocket vibrated as I pulled a packet of shortbread cookies out of the pantry.
555-4526: Tell me where you are, Arabella.
I quickly blocked the number, as though staring at it for too long would lead a trail to me like police traced a chatty kidnapper on an open line.
My hairs stood on end up and down my arm. In spite of my pot of what Mom and I called sleepy tea, I knew I wouldn’t get one hour of rest that night.
Upstairs, I took a quick bath, washing off the sand, and wrapped myself in a fluffy bathrobe. Distraction was the name of my game. A book I chose at random off the bookshelf and my drink joined me on the balcony.
The soft, chaise lounge welcomed me with cottony arms. Music and chatter floated over my picturesque scene. I didn’t mind it so much. Their revelry reminded me I wasn’t alone, and my undisturbed view of the rolling, foaming waves put me at ease.
If he’s asking where you are, it means he doesn’t know. You’re safe here, Belle. Your biggest worry is fending off potential suitors.
I repeated the thought a few times to will my chilled blood to circulate. When I almost believed myself, I picked up my mug and book and settled in for a long night.
The Devotion of Suspect X was deep into the best part when I returned. It hooked me and dragged me deeper, smothering me in the brilliant, twisted world of Keigo Higashino.
Hours passed. The dregs of my tea grew cold. The noise from the party faded to silence.
I hunched over my book, eyes skimming faster than my brain was taking the words in. This is insane. The whole time the killer was—
The light winked out, cutting off my reading like a sack over the head. My overhead light flickered. On. Off. On. And then off for a thirty-second stretch.
Kissing my teeth, I heaved myself up and went inside. I turned the lights on in my room and pushed the curtains back to let them reach my spot. Satisfied, I returned to my book.
“What’s our son’s name?”
Another bulb flicked on.
Nathan propped his elbows on his rail, gazing at me from the neighboring balcony. He was clad from the waist down. A beer bottle hung from his fingers, dangling over the rose bushes.
I saved the sputter and shock at finding out he had the room next to mine. The way my life was going, Carter was probably on the other side and Preston in the room opposite.
I set my book down, rising to my feet. Two years and we hadn’t laid eyes on each other. Not so much as spoken a word. Two meetings in three days had broken our streak. Speaking to each other would demolish it.
Go inside, Belle. Draw the shades. Turn out the lights. Let this chapter of your life remain closed.
It was well-named as a voice of reason. Too much had gone wrong in the space of a few hours. Heeding my common sense to stay away from Nathan Prince would save the pieces of frayed twine holding my life together from unraveling further.
Go, Belle. Go, go, go.
“Jameson,” I answered. “After your father.”
Nathan chuckled. No reason he should’ve done that. We were talking about the imaginary love child I created to scare away his admirers. But if Nathan ever responded the way I expected him to, we wouldn’t be in our current mess.
“I like it,” he said. “It’s the name I would’ve given my son.”
“I know. You told me.”
“Does he look like me or you?”
“You. He’s got your freckles and curls. My eyes.”
“The kid must be adorable. How did we survive giving him up?”
“It was hard,” I said carefully, “but in the end, we did what was best for all of us.”
He nodded, head tilting back to the stars. “Funny, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“How often the best choice is the one that makes everyone miserable.”
I said nothing.
“Did you have fun tonight?” Nathan asked after a beat. “Running around making up shit about me and my boys.” He sounded almost conversational.
“Had a blast. Thank you for asking.”
“While you’re in the mood to answer questions, can you tell me how much revenge you’ll need until you’re satisfied?” He took a healthy swig. “Should I buckle in for the entire summer?”
“How much have you had to drink, Nathan?”
“Oh ho. There it is.” He threw his arms out, moving back. “Belle Adler’s special blend of concern and disdain. Didn’t know you still cared, baby.” He pointed to his mouth. “Or that I could still curl those lips.”
My fists balled. “You have the same effect on me that I apparently have over you. Seems I can still get your blood boiling.”
“Like no one else.”
“What happened between us wasn’t my fault, Nathan.”
“You really believe that, don’t you?”
“You broke us!”
“You—!”
“Nathan?”
I ducked inside. An instinctive move more than anything.
Kelli had shed her matching outfit and sunglasses for her birthday suit. She looked around, missing me cloaked behind the drapes. “Were you talking to someone?”
“Myself.”
“Ooh,” she purred, draping her arms around his shoulders. “I can put that mouth to much better use.”
“You first.”
Nathan guided a giggling Kelli onto her knees.
“Right here? What if someone sees us?”
He looked me right in the eye. “I guarantee someone will.”
This wasn’t the deterrent I thought it would be. She got his dick out of his pants faster than I unwrapped a Twizzler. Kelli swallowed him whole, filling the night with moans that burrowed in my ears.
I slammed the door hard enough to make my point. Curling up on my bed, I reached for another distraction since my book was spending the night outside. I brushed my phone grabbing the remote, lighting up the screen and the notification from an unknown number.
Chapter Five
Carter
“Eggs with spinach and chorizo,” said Preston.
“Salmon eggs Benedict,” I threw in.
Nathan slumped in his seat, shades covering half his face. I wasn’t entirely sure the guy wasn’t sleeping.
Preston threw an orange at him. “Wake your ass up.”
“I’m awake,” he said easily. “Corn fritters with Canadian bacon and avocado, if you please, Dorothy. Throw in a plate of maple pancakes and I’ll marry you at the end of the summer.”