Deception, p.6
Deception, page 6
“You have a problem with personal space, Chevy.”
He darts his eyes back and forth. Earlier, they’d been the color of maple syrup, but with the late afternoon sun shining in through the windows and bathing his flawless features, they’re lighter. Like melted caramel. I’m in trouble if I keep associating sweet foods with this guy.
“Chevy?” he asks. “A play on my name?”
Oh, God. He’s a dumb jock who probably took one too many blows to the head on the football field or something.
“Forget it,” I mumble. “I’m serious about what I said. You better not be using Della to get to me. Because if you are, that’s really freaking creepy, Ford. First stalking me in my classes and now this?”
“Stalking you?” His lips twitch. “I literally just met you. Careful, if your head gets any bigger, honey, you’re going to have problems getting back through that door.”
I scoff at his words, ignoring the use of honey altogether. Has he graduated from Laundry to honey? Jesus, this guy moves fast.
“Maybe I should observe,” I threaten. “To make sure you’re not up to anything weird.”
“Now who’s the stalker?”
I poke his solid chest right in the center. “Whatever game you’re playing, I’m going to figure it out. I’m not some stupid heiress you can toy with.”
His hand lifts and he curls it around my wrist. The grip on it tightens, but not to the point of pain. Possessive, maybe.
“If I were playing a game, you’d be powerless to stop it.” His smug grin is nauseating. “You’d lose, honey.”
Again with the honey.
“Remember,” I bite back, jerking from his grip. “I’m on a first name basis with your balls.”
“You’ve met my balls?”
My God he’s an idiot. I snag a pencil off the desk nearest to me and swing my hand up. The moment the tip presses against him through his denim, he stills, his face paling.
“What the fuck, woman?”
“Clearly you needed reminding.”
He studies me for a long beat before nodding his acquiescence. “I promise to be a good boy. Happy?”
Despite having a pencil pointed at his balls, he smiles. The kind of smile that starts small but increases with power the more it grows. Kind of like the sun rising above the horizon. A small ray of light and then it becomes warm, blanketing every inch of your skin and soaking into your bones. Certainly a smile he’s never shown me until now.
I hate that I like it. A lot.
The warmth that radiates from him burns my skin, especially at my cheeks. It’s annoying that he’ll be able to see how he affects me. Based on the growing radiance of his grin, he knows.
“Happy?” I grumble, stepping back and no longer aiming at his balls. “Not sure I even know what that means.”
The truth I’ve just blurted out tastes bitter on my tongue. This smiling, gorgeous douchebag gets a front row seat to my ugly truth. Lovely.
He lifts a hand and I freeze, wondering what he plans on doing to me. Shock jolts through me when his finger hooks under my chin and gently lifts until his eyes are boring into mine. My heart stutters and then stalls altogether when he leans in.
Is he going to kiss me?
Am I going to let him?
“You can trust me,” he murmurs, his breath tickling my face. “Promise.”
I’ve never wanted to believe a lie so badly in my entire life. His whispered, tender words tease me into a false sense of security, but underneath, something hides. I can sense it with Ford. Beneath what he allows me to see, darkness lurks.
I know this because I live in the abyss.
What kind of monsters are you hiding, Ford Mann?
“Kind of early in this relationship for me to believe your words at face value,” I say, taking another step away from him. His hand falls and his smile transform into a smirk.
“Relationship?”
“Don’t be a tool. Friendship. We’re friends. I guess.”
A deep, rumbling laugh erupts from him. “You guess? Do you make it difficult for everyone to get to know you?”
Yes.
I don’t have time for people or distractions.
His softness is different than before at school. Unexpected but not hated. It’s warm and inviting. I have this overwhelming desire to step closer so he’ll wrap me in a hug like a human-shaped blanket.
Ugh. He didn’t suddenly turn sweet on me and he’s not some potential boyfriend. He’s still the grade-A douchebag I met at school.
Ford Mann has layers and he’s dangerous to someone like me, because he has this crazy way of disarming me with his charming smiles and unpredictable words.
“I have homework. I’m leaving now,” I state in the iciest tone I can muster despite the heat flooding through me. “Be good, or else.”
With those words, I turn on my heel and escape the room before I divulge more inner parts of myself that don’t need exposing.
There’s just something about him that makes me want to tell him everything. He draws me to him. Even his secrets call to me.
I want to know him.
And that scares the hell out of me.
* * *
It’s almost been an hour and Della hasn’t scared Ford off yet, so they must have connected in some way. Every now and again, I hear his low voice speaking to her, but it never raises or seems agitated. I’m perched in an armchair with a book in the living room under the guise of reading, but really I’m just keeping an eye—or an ear in this case—on things. As much as I want to trust Ford, I don’t.
I can’t.
The clacking of Sandra’s heels on the wood floors draws my attention. All the hairs on my arms stand at attention. I pretend to be engrossed in my book, making an obvious show of turning the page, even after the sound of her heels stop. If she knows I’m micromanaging the new tutor, she’ll tell Dad. If she tells Dad, he’ll dig in and want to know more about this tutor. It’ll put a microscope on Della and I can’t have that.
Plus, if Dad realizes the tutor is incredibly hot, he might fire him on the spot.
No, it’s better to feign disinterest.
“Miss Landry?”
“Hmm?” I don’t look up from my book.
“Your father wanted me to let you know that tomorrow night you’ll be entertaining a guest at dinner.”
My eyes fly to hers, brows knitting in confusion. “Me?”
“Yes. He said he’ll have Lucy bring by some appropriate dress options.”
Good ol’ Lucy. My personal shopper. Because heaven forbid I’m allowed to actually shop on my own. That would require letting me off the leash and Dad has a strong hold on it. If he’d let me loose, even for one day, to shop, I could probably buy and return enough stuff to stash away a good amount of cash for an escape.
But since that isn’t an option, I’m still penniless and without a plan.
“Who’s the guest?” A prickly uneasy feeling spreads across my flesh. “Do I know them?”
Sandra flashes me a brilliant, practiced smile. “It’s his new protégé, dear. Ty Constantine.”
Constantine.
As in the influential and seriously wealthy gods of New York City.
“Wait. Dad’s protégé is also the guy he wants me to have dinner with?” I clarify, irritation churning my gut.
“You know how your father likes to control all the moving parts and ensure the end result is to his satisfaction.” She waves a manicured hand in dismissal. “It’ll be better this way. Allowing anyone access into the Croft empire is risky and dangerous. You know this.”
I want to pick her apart for more answers regarding this topic, but all thoughts come screeching to a halt when Ford enters the living room with a cat in his arms and my little sister at his side.
I gape at him.
A cat?
He gives me a half shrug, not at all bothered by the way the filthy feline is clawing long snags in his shirt. Dad would have a cow for so many reasons right now—cute boy, mangy cat, and my deaf sister. The idea of Dad walking in on this gives me such anxiety, the room tilts and bile rises in my throat.
I’m vaguely aware of Sandra shooing Della to her room and telling Ford goodbye before she disappears back to her office within our home.
Then, silence.
I snap out of my daze and rise to my feet. After sliding on my shoes, I slip out of the penthouse, hoping to catch up to Ford.
Why?
Because I want to talk to him—to learn all there is to know about him. Like why he’s doing this job and why he’s so interested in me. I want to know what he’s hiding.
Mostly, I want to know if he meant it…that I could trust him.
As much as I know it’s a bad idea, I want to. I don’t have friends or people I can rely on. It’s just me and Della in this big, awful world. Having a person to count on seems almost too good to be true.
By the time I catch an elevator to the lobby of the building, I’m sure he’s long gone. I shoulder past some men in suits lingering near the entrance, trying to catch a peek. When I make it outside, I don’t see Ford’s shiny Audi he loves so much.
What I do see confuses me.
An obscenely yellow Bronco idly rumbles as Ford hands one of the valet men a wad of cash. Ford doesn’t notice me as he climbs into the vehicle. He guns the engine, squealing as he takes off. I stare after the vehicle wondering just how many cars Ford Mann has.
More questions.
No answers.
The urge to look him up on the internet is a temptation I nearly fall victim to. But, searching him out means leading Dad right to him since he watches my digital activity like a hawk. Right now, no matter how much he annoys me, Ford is something in my life that’s mine.
My “friend.”
My secret.
Mine.
Chapter Eight
Sparrow
It’s too fucking quiet.
I hate when it’s quiet.
When we’re all three home, our twenty-three hundred square feet apartment in the heart of Tribeca doesn’t feel big enough, and it’s loud. There’s always a game or movie on the television in the living room. Someone is always talking or bitching.
I rock in my recliner just to hear the squeak over and over again. Our two brown recliners are ugly as fuck but super comfortable. This apartment, a nearly five-million-dollar gift from our uncle, Bryant, had some hard-ass pretentious armchairs once upon a time. As soon as we moved in a year ago, we took them to the dumpster and bought these instead.
This might be Morelli property, but to us, it’s home.
Just like every guy, I’ve wondered what it would be like to be on my own. I wouldn’t have to clean up the messes Scout leaves in the kitchen every goddamn night or put up with Sully during football season. But then it would always be too quiet and really fucking lonely. It’s comforting having them near me. I feel like it’ll always be that way.
Growing up, I’ve always had my brothers right there by my side every step of the way. We played lacrosse together ever since we were old enough to hold a stick and were placed in all the same classes because money talks. Back then, because of Mom, we had lots of it. The three of us ruled every setting we were in because we ruled as one.
After all the shit that happened when we were stupid eighteen-year-old dicks, we’ve been fractured. The close bond we once had has been severed and we haven’t seemed to find a way to glue it back together. Sometimes, I wonder if it was Mom all along who held us tight, and now that she’s rotting away in prison, we’re drifting apart toward our own corners of the universe. Still, despite all the crap we’ve been through, I can’t imagine my life without them.
Needing to get my mind off depressing shit like being alone and missing Mom, I flip through my phone. There’s nothing to be discovered about Landry, but I’m cool with plucking those threads of information from her each time I see her. It’s her father I want to know more about. He’s the key that’ll unlock access into the Constantine world. The three of us have been desperate in our own ways to seek retribution for what Winston did to us.
He fucked us on so many levels. So many goddamn levels.
This job Bryant has tossed our way is the most entertaining shit we’ve been allowed to do. It fulfils an emptiness I’d been struggling to get a hold on. I have purpose.
Maybe Sully was right…
We’ve been existing but not living.
Puppets in the Morelli show.
I scroll through every news article I can find on Alexander Croft. Everything I read, they all kiss his ass and praise him for being the next Steve Jobs. A brilliant tech genius with a knack for turning gaming code into billions of dollars. He’s loaded and his wealth continues to grow exponentially each year.
It takes some digging but I learn that his wife, Evie, passed away not long after the birth of her second daughter. The reporters gloss over the shattering loss in a rare show of respect for the family’s privacy, and instead, focus on the mastermind himself.
And Landry?
It’s as though she and her little sister are ghosts who don’t exist. There are photos of Alexander, Evie, and Landry when she was younger, but then they cease to be for the past six years or so.
She’s definitely being protected by that daddy of hers.
Why?
My dick stirs at the reminder of our encounters today. I fucking know why. The press would eat her up. Sassy and smart and sexy as fuck. Media outlets love their billionaire heiresses. They’re more than happy to follow them around, documenting every second of their lives.
In a way, I kind of respect the guy for protecting her against the pricks of the world. Unfortunately for the both of them, the worst pricks find their way in anyway.
Like me and my brothers.
We’re an infection, slowly spreading into the Croft world.
Alexander and his precious daughter are simply a door for us. An opening to damage our real opponent. Winston Constantine and the whole damn family. Our ex-stepsister, Ash, included.
I’m not obsessed like Scout is, so I don’t check in on Winston and Ash, but I’ve heard him rant enough to know the current status. They’re happily in love and living the billionaire dream.
Scout wants nothing more than to destroy that man.
Winston is untouchable, though. We learned that the hard way. His family, however, are not.
Retraining my thoughts, I dive back in on my hunt for more Croft shit that might be juicy or useful. So far, everything is squeaky clean. We’ll just have to get the nitty gritty from Landry herself.
My dick twitches again.
I’m willing to do whatever is necessary. Getting that mouthy girl naked and beneath me sounds like less of a hardship and more of a job perk—one I’d be really, really good at. Lost in my fantasy, I barely notice when Sully walks in through the door. It’s the strange, unhuman sound that emanates from him that has me darting my gaze his way.
“Heathen, meet Sparrow. Sparrow, this is Heathen.” Sully is scowling and there’s a cat clinging to his chest, hanging by its claws, and angrily lashing its tail. Blood dots his flesh up and down his forearms.
“You have a cat?” I arch a brow, unable to bite back a laugh. “What the fuck?”
“We have a cat.” Sully’s jaw clenches and he gestures at the growling creature. “And we’re going to give her a bath.”
“Nope.” I give him a sharp shake of my head. “Hell no.”
“I wasn’t asking, dickwad. I can’t do this by myself. This cat is an asshole.”
“Then why’d you get it?”
Ignoring me, he storms off down the hall. I rise to my feet, unable to stay away despite my words, and follow him into his bedroom. It’s more fun to watch your brother suffer than to imagine it. I peek my head in his bathroom to find him struggling to pluck the cat from his shirt while the water in the tub fills.
“Seriously, man. Why’d you bring home a cat?” I grip the top of the doorframe and lean in. “Since when do you like cats?”
“Since never,” he grumbles. “The kid likes cats.”
The kid?
“Landry?”
He scoffs. “No. Her little sister. It’s my job to get in good on that front. Spy and whatever. Remember?”
“She’s fucking hot, isn’t she?”
“Kind of a bitch if you ask me.” He manages to free the cat from his shirt, but it claws the shit out of his arm in the process. “Jesus, Heathen, calm your tits. I’m trying to wash this filth off your scrawny ass.”
Feeling sorry for my brother, I take pity on him and sidle up next to him. That cat is going to flip its shit the second its paws hit the water. It’ll definitely take the two of us.
“Landry is a total bitch,” I say, grinning. “But it’s kind of her best quality.”
“Her lips are her best quality,” Sully argues, not missing a beat. “I’ll hold Heathen down. You wash her. Watch your fingers. She’ll probably bite them the fuck off as payback.”
I grab the shampoo bottle, readying myself as he lowers the cat into the warm water. It lets loose a howl straight from a fucking nightmare. Creepy-ass cat. “Lips, huh? You’re such a bleeding heart, man.”
“Dick sucking lips,” Sully throws back. “You know what I mean.”
“You act like I don’t know you, Sull. It’s okay. You think she’s pretty.”
“Does it matter what I think?” He dunks the cat, earning more claw marks down his forearms and his subsequent cursing. “Shampoo.”
I squirt a lot on the disgusting cat. She needs like ten baths, not just one. “Did Landry suspect anything was up?”
“She was skeptical and wary.” He wrestles with Heathen when she tries to make her escape and manages to pin her. “Seriously. A little heads-up next time about this chick would be nice so I don’t fuck us over with one encounter.”
