Contents

Mr.Mysterious
DESCRIPTION
ChapterOne-Mac(Mr.Perfect)RightNow
ChapterTwo-Paxton-EightWeeksAgo
ChapterThree-Cindy
ChapterFour-Paxton
ChapterFive-Cindy
ChapterSix-Paxton
ChapterSeven-Cindy
ChapterEight-Paxton
ChapterNine-Cindy
ChapterTen-Paxton
ChapterEleven-Cindy
ChapterTwelve-Paxton
ChapterThirteen-Cindy
ChapterFourteen-Paxton
ChapterFifteen-Cindy
ChapterSixteen-Paxton
ChapterSeventeen-Cindy
ChapterEighteen-Paxton
ChapterNineteen-Cindy
ChapterTwenty-Paxton
ChapterTwenty-One-Cindy
ChapterTwenty-Two-Paxton
ChapterTwenty-Three-Cindy
ChapterTwenty-Four-Paxton
ChapterTwenty-Five-Cindy
ChapterTwenty-Six-Paxton
ChapterTwenty-Seven-Cindy
ChapterTwenty-Eight-Paxton
ChapterTwenty-Nine-Cindy
ChapterThirty-Paxton
ChapterThirty-One-Cindy
ChapterThirty-Two-Paxton
ChapterThirty-Three-Cindy
ChapterThirty-Four-Paxton
ChapterThirty-Five-Cindy
ChapterThirty-Six-Paxton
ChapterThirty-Seven-Cindy
ChapterThirty-Eight-Paxton
ChapterThirty-Nine-Cindy
ChapterForty-Paxton
ChapterForty-One-Cindy
ChapterForty-Two-Paxton

ChapterForty-Three-Cindy
ChapterForty-Four-Paxton
ChapterForty-Five-Cindy
ChapterForty-Six-Cindy
Epilogue-Paxton
ENDOFBOOKSHIT
AbouttheAuthor

ByJ.A.Huss

EditedbyRJLocksley

Copyright©2016byJ.A.Huss

Allrightsreserved.

ISBN-978-1-944475-10-9

Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,businesses,places,eventsandincidentsareeitherthe

productsoftheauthor ’simaginationorusedinafictitiousmanner.Anyresemblancetoactual

persons,livingordead,oractualeventsispurelycoincidental.

DESCRIPTION

PaxtonVanceisn’tascrypticashethinks.Thatbroodynatureandtough-guyexterioraren’t

foolingmeonebit.

Iknoweverythingabouthim.Ilisteninonhismostpersonalphonecalls.Ireadhismailbefore

hedoes.IevenknowwhathismothergothimforChristmaslastyear.

You’rethemanofmydreams,PaxtonVance.Youjustdon’tknowityet.
Butdon’tworry,I’llremindyou.I’mheretogiveyoueverythingyouneed,beforeyouknow

youneedit.

Sodon’tgetdefensivebecauseItakeachallengeseriously.Youhavetoopenuptosomeone,

andthatsomeoneisme.

Besides,youcan’tstayMr.Mysteriousforever.Whyplaythegameifyouneverwanttowin?

ALLBOOKSINTHISSERIESCANBEREADASASTANDALONE!

Mr.Perfect

Mr.Romantic

Mr.Corporate

Mr.Mysterious

Mr.Match

ChapterOne-Mac(Mr.Perfect)RightNow

Thesoundofahelicopteroutsidewakesme.Rubbingmyeyes,Iturnover,findElliemissing—

she’supinIdahoSpringswithMingandArielforaspaweekend—andsighalittle,wishingshewas
here.

Butthehelicoptersoundgetslouder.Soloud,infact,thewallsstartvibrating.Elliehascomplained

aboutthisinthepastwhenI’vecomehomefromatripusingthehelicopter,butnoonehasevercome
tothehouseinahelicopterbutme,soI’veneverexperiencedit.

Whatthefuckishappening?
Mymindraceswithalltheworst-casepossibilities.
Elliefelloffacliffupinthemountains.
No,that’sstupid.Theywouldn’tLifeFlightherhere,forfuck’ssake.They’dtakehertoahospital.

I’dbewokenupbyaphonecall,notahelicopter.

Somekindofworkemergency.
Equallystupid.Workistwentyminutesawaybycar.Noonebutmewouldflyoverherefrom

work.Hell,noonebutmehasahelicopteratwork.Wehaveatonofjetsoverthere,butonlyone
helicopter.Andit’smine.Parkedoutside.Onmyhelipad.

Nolan.He’smynextguess.
Butno.IjusttalkedtoNolanafewhoursago.Hecalledtoaskmeifheshouldthreatenorbribe

Ivy’sOBGYNintotellinghimthesexofthebaby.Theyjusthadanappointmenttheotherdayand
Nolanemailedmesomeridiculousblobby-thingpictureoftheirbunintheoven.Ivyhastakenthe
surpriserouteasfarasthebaby’ssexgoes.

Nolanisn’thandlingthatwell.
Itoldhimbriberyisprobablybetterthanthreats.Soitcan’tbeNolanoutside.Hewouldn’tleave

Ivyalone.Besides,he’stoofarawayforahelicopterride.He’soutatthatdeserthoteltheyrun.

It’snotOliver.Iknowhe’sinNewYorktryingtoclosesomedeal.
Paxistheonlyguessleft.
Andhemakessense,soIthrowthecoversoffandjogdownthehallwaytowardsthefrontdoor.

Scoutbarksexcitedly,followingfullspeedbehindme,everthefaithfulfarmdog.Idon’tevenknow
wherePaxlivesrightnow.HesayshehasanofficeinLA,butI’veneverseenit.Andhe’salwaysout
hereinColoradowithOliver.

ButOlivercalledmejustthismorningwonderingifI’dseenortalkedtoPaxton,andIhadtotell

himno.PaxneverbotherswithmeunlessoneofushascalledaMistermeeting.

ScoutcrashesintomeasIslideonthesmoothpolishedfloorsinmysocks.Thehouseischilly

nowthatfallisinfullswing.AndEllielikestokeepthethermostatinthein-floorheatingturnedup,
butshe’snotheretoregulatethetemperature.SoIslipmyfeetintothebootsIwearouttothebarn
andgrabthefirstthingmyfingerscomeincontactwithfromthefoyercloset,andpullthenavy-blue
peacoatonasIstepoutintothefrigiddarkness.

ItrytoclosethedoorbeforeScoutcangetthrough,butshe’swayaheadofmeintheescapeplan.

Shewigglesthroughandstartsrunningtowardsthehelipad,herlongsilver-bluesheepdogfur
wavingandbouncingwithhershort,quickstrides.

Sherunscirclesaroundthenewarrival,whichisofftotheleftofmyownhelicopter,likeshecan

herdthisthingintosubmission.HerbarkfillsthenightandIlookaroundnervously,stillnotquite
accustomedtolivinginthemiddleofnowherewiththeclosestneighborsamileaway.

Thehelicopterhaslandedandtheenginesuddenlystops.Thepropellersstarttoslowdown,that

wompwompwompsoundfadingastwomengetout.Onestumbleswhiletheotheronehelpshimwalk.

Istandtherewatching.
ItisPax.Thestumblingone.Icantellbyhisgait.ButI’mmoresurprisedaboutwhohe’swiththan

Iamaboutthemidnighthelicopterappearance.

Five.
Hmmm.
Paxtonisloudastheywalktowardsthelargefarmhouse-stylefrontporch.Iforgottoflipthelight

on,soeverythingisdarkandstill.Scoutfollowsthem,circlingthemlikeshedoesthegeesewekeep
inthebarn.

Paxtonisslurringhiswordswhenhestumblesagain.Fivehasaholdofhiscoat,sohedoesn’tgo

down.

“Comeon,asshole,”Fivegrowls.“Getyourshittogether.”
“Myshit?”Paxtonlaughs,obviouslydrunk.“Myshitissotogether,youAstonmotherfucker.And

justwait!”Paxyells,pointingupattheskylikehe’scryingEureka!Loudenoughtomakeanechooff
thehouse.“Justwait!Hewillblameyoutoo!”Helaughsloudanduproariously.“Hewillblameyou
toooooooooo!”

“Whatthefuckisgoingonhere?”IaskFivewhenheapproachestheporch.Paxstumblesonthe

frontstoop,almostsmashinghisnoseontheconcretesteps,butstopsthecatastrophebyslamming
onehand,palmdown,onthesmoothstone.Theotherhandholdsadrink.

Isquintatit.Asmalltumblerglasswithiceandsomethingthatlookslike…mintleavessticking

out.

Hedidn’tspilladrop.It’sstillthreequartersfull.
Fivesighs,butsaysnothing.
“What’sgoingonhere?”Paxbellows,grabbingtherailingwiththedrinklesshandwhiletheother

triestogettherimoftheglasstohislips.Hetakesalongslurpandthenwaveshishandintheair.A
splashofalcoholpopsoutoftheglassandfallsinastream,rightintotheopenmouthofmydog.

“Scout,”Isaysternly.Butshe’sbeyondexcitedrightnow.Herlittlenubofatailiswaggingand

bobbingfuriouslyasshehopsaroundPaxtonlikehe’sthebestthingever.“Whatthefuckareyou
doinghere,Pax?”

Elliewouldnotlikethisonebit.ShebarelytoleratesMysterious.He’swaytoomuchforher.He’s

waytoomuchforme,tobehonest.

“Tellhim.”Paxlaughs.“Youtellhim,”hesaysagain.
IlookatFive,whorollshiseyesandcopsaseatonmyporchrailing,leaningbackalittle,likethis

isgoingtobealongstoryandheneedstogetcomfortable.“Oliverisgoingtokillhim.”

“What?”Iask,scanningtheroad,hopingnoneofmyneighborsacrossthatcowfieldcanhear

what’shappeningoverhere.“Why?”

“Tellhim,”Paxbellowsagain.“Telllllllllhiiiiiiiim.”
“No,”Fivesays,checkinghisfingernails.“I’mnottellinghimshit.I’mnottellinganyone

anything.Youwantedthistohappentonight,sohereweare.Youtellhim.”

Paxsmiles,hisglassyeyesgleaminginthestarlight.“I’mfuckingCindyShrike.”
Ishakemyheadalittle,tryingtowrapmybrainaroundhiswords.“What?”
“Havebeen”—Paxlaughs,takingasipofhisdrink—“foreightweeksnow.”
“Whatthefuck?”IlookatFive.“Youknewaboutthis?”
“Heshowedupatmyhousetonight.Saidheneededtoborrowmyhelicopter.Buthewasdrunkon

thosestupidKentuckyDerbydrinks.”

IstarehardatthedrinkinPax’shand.Hedownstheentirething,thenslamsitontheporchrailing

sohard,Ithinkhemightbreaktheglass.

“I’mgonnaneedanother,”Paxsays,pushingpastmetoopenthefrontdoor.“Where’sthatballand

chain,Perfect?Shehere?Becauseshe’snotgonnalikethis,myfriend.Notonebit.”

Andthenheletshimselfinmyhouse.Scout,whoiscaughtupinhisblustering,followseagerly

after.

“IsElliehome?”Fiveasks.“BecauseifshetellsArialwhat’shappening—”
“She’snothere,”Isay.“Ishefuckingserious?Whothehellfucksaguy’sbabysister?”
“Herefusestotellmethestory,”Fivesays.“Hesaidyou’retheonlyonewhowillunderstand.”
“Me?IthoughthewasanassholebeforehemessedwithOliver ’ssister.Now?Fuckthat.Oliveris

notgoingtolikethis.”

“Oliverisgoingtofliphisfuckinglid.”
ThenIrememberwhoI’mtalkingto.OliverandFivegowayback.Idon’tknowthewholestory,

butIknowtheygrewuptogether.

“OliverisgoingtoshowupatPax’shouse—whereverthefuckthatmightbe—withagoddamned

shotgun.Oliver ’sfatherwillbetheretoo.Andsinceyou’venevermetSpencerShrike,I’lljusttell
yourightnow,youdonotfuckwiththatguy.Hecomesoffallsweetandcharming,butdon’tlethim
foolyou.Mr.Shrikeknowshiswayaroundagun.”Fivelooksatmefromthecornerofhiseye.“And
amurdercharge.”

Iletoutabreath.IthinkIwasholdingit.“Whatthefuckdoesthatmean?”JesusChrist.
“It’snotimportant.Butyougettheideaofwherethisisheading?”
Inodandwelookateachotherforafewseconds.“So…whyareyouguyshere?”
Fiveshrugs.“Hesaysyou’retheonlyonewecantell.NolanandWestonkindofhatePax,incase

youhaven'tnoticed.”

Oh,I’venoticed.“Whytellanybody?”Iask.“Whydoesn’thejustshutthefuckupaboutit?Chalkit

uptoabadmistakeandmoveon?”

“Well,”Fivesays,headingfortheopenfrontdoortomyhome,“hesayshelovesherandhe’snot

givingherup.So…weneedtodealwiththis.Andyou,Mr.Perfect,aretheperfectmanforthejob.”

“Whatjob?”
“TellingOliver,ofcourse.It’sallyou,buddy.That’swhathappenswhenyou’rethecalm,level-

headedoneontheteam.Yougettobreakallthebadnews.Solet’sgo.Hesaidhe’dtellustheentire
storyfromstarttofinish.”Fivelooksathiswatch.“Andwe’veonlygotacouplehoursbeforepeople
noticeI’mgoneandstartaskingquestions.”

“Whatpeople?”Iask,followinghimin.ButFivedoesn’tanswer.AndI’mnotsureifit’sbecause

he’shidingthings—whichheis.NoonereallyknowsanythingaboutFive.ExceptOliver.AndPax,
probably.Morethanme,anyway—orifit’sbecausePaxtonVanceiscommandingFive’sattentionas
hepoursicecubesontopofadishtowelinmykitchenandstartshammeringitwithacanofsoup.

“Whatthefuckareyoudoing?”Iask,walkingover.Fiveisleaningagainstthebar,lookingbored.

Scoutisdoingthatlittlewiggleleapshedoeswhenshecan’tcontainherenergyforonemoresecond.

“Crushedice,”Paxsays,asifthatexplainseverything.“Youwantamargarita?”heasksus.“Ora

mintjulep?”

“Sincewhendoyoudrinkthatkindofshit?”Iask,pushinghimawayfromthecounterand

grabbingthesoupcanfromhishand.“You’regonnacrackmyfuckinggranite,asshole.Stop
pounding.”IlookoveratFive,confused.“Canpeoplegetdrunkoffmintjuleps?”It’ssucha
ridiculousdrink,right?TheonlypeoplewhodrinkthesethingsareoldladiesonDerbyDay.

“ExhibitA,”Fivesays,motioningtoPax.Whohasleftthekitchenandisrummagingaroundatthe

barintheadjoiningroom.

Hefindswhathe’slookingfor—abottleofbourbonandabottleoftequila—andreturnstothe

kitchen,pullingmintleavesoutofhispockets.

“Cindy,”Paxsays,rubbingahandthroughhiswilddarkhair.“Cinderellalikesthesetwodrinks.

They’reourdrinks.”

Ourdrinks?ImouththewordstoFive,whostandsupstraightandtakeshiscoatoff,drapingit

overabarstoolatthekitchenisland.

“She’ssogoddamnedperfect,Perfect.You’dloveher.”
“YoucannotdateOliver ’ssister,”Isay,snappingoutofit.“No.No.Thisisnothappening.Ifyou

evenlookedatmysister—”

“Youdon’thaveasister,”Fivesays.
“Camillecounts,”Isay,defensive.“I’dfuckingkillhimifheevenlookedatCamille.Youneedto

breakthisoff,Pax.Likenow.Youcan’tdateaguy’ssister.It’slikethenumberoneBroRule.How’d
youlikeitifOliverwasdatingyoursister?”

“Hedoesn’thaveasister,”Fivesays.
“It’sfuckinghypothetical,”Isnap.FuckingFive.“Doyouwantmetohandlethisornot?”
Fiveopenshishands,asiftosay,Handleaway.
“Pax,”Isay,tryingtobecalm.“Look,man.Yougottajustcometotermswiththis.Youhaveto

dropthisideaof…”God,Ican’tevensaythewords.Whatkindofguydateshisfriend’sbabysister?

“Ican’t,”Paxsays,suddenlysoberandserious.“Ican’t.Ifuckingfellforher,man.Ifuckingfell

forher.She’smyfuckingsoulmate.That’sit,”hesays.“That’stheendofthediscussion.Iloveher.”

“Howcouldyoupossiblyloveher?Howlonghaveyoubeendating,forfuck’ssake?”
Paxtonsneersatme.“Youdon’tunderstand,”hesays.“Andyou,ofallpeople,should.”
Ideservethat.IfellinlovewithEllieinthespanofaweek.Sure,ittookusawhiletogetourshit

together,butwebasicallyhadafewweeksofseriousdatingbeforeIproposed.

Andnowlookatus.House—farm,really—dog,planningawedding.
Paxgoesbacktohisdrinksandwhiletheblenderiswhirringandhe’sdumpingsaltontoasmall

dishforhismargarita,FiveandIexchangelooks.

Wecan’taffordtohavethiskindofdiscontentbetweentheMistersrightnow,Five’slooksays.
Igotthis,mylooksaysback.
ThenPaxisdonemakinghisdrinksandhetakesthemboth,oneineachhand,andslumpsdownon

thelivingroomcouch.Scoutjumpsupnexttohim,settlingwithherheadonhislaplikehe’sgother
fullsupportandsympathy.

“MaybeIshouldstartfromthebeginning?”Paxsays,slurpingoncefromhismargarita,thennext

fromhismintjulep.

“Maybeyoushould,”Isay,asFiveandIfollowhimintothelivingroomandtakeseatsin

opposite-facingchairs.“Butyouneedtoknow,Pax,thereisnowayyoucanhavethisrelationship
rightnow.Notwhileallthisshitishappening.Notwhenpeopleareouttogetusagain.Becausewe
needeveryonetobecool.YourlovelifeneedstotakeabackseattoMisterbusiness.”

Paxsighs,likewemightfinallybegettingthroughtohim.Sighslikehejustmightwalkoutof

heretonightandtakemyadvice.

“Oneday,”hesays.“You’relike…doinggreat.”Helooksupatmewithglassyeyes.Theyare

bloodshot.Lidssagginglikehe’sbeenupforever.Likeheforgotwhatsleepisandhasn’trestedin
lifetimes.“Youknowwhoyouare.Whatyou’redoing.Whereyou’regoing.Andthenagirlnamed
Cinderellasendsyourwholeworldspinning.She’sgotblondehair,andblueeyes,andabodya
nineteen-fiftiesstarletwouldkillfor.”

Hestopstalkingtosmileatme.Ismileback.I’veneverseenPaxlikethis.

“Andshestartstalkingaboutmotorcycles,andguns,andbandsyouhavewantedtolistentoagain

foradecadeormore.Shewearsblackleatherwheneverpossible.Onherfeet,onherback,inher
hair.ShelikesstrawberryicecreamandbooksbyStephenKing.Herfingershavesilverringson
them.Shelikesanythingwithafeatheronit.Ahat,ahairclip,earrings.Andshesurfs,youguys.
Like,forreal.Shesurfs.Andshefuckingcooks.Tacosandspaghetti.FoodIlovenowbutneveratein
theLimitlessFarmsdiningroombackinthebluegrass.”

Paxsighsandslumpsevenfurtherdownintothecouchcushions.
“She’slikeahappilyeverafter,youknow?She’slikeatilldeathdouspart.”
Ijuststareathim.Blink.
“Igetit,”Fivesays,pickingsomelintoffhissuit.“Igetit,Pax.Ido.TheShrikegirlsarepretty

hardtoignore.”

“Yeah,”Paxagrees.“HowthefuckamIgoingtoignorethis?”Hepoundsafistintohisheart.

“Andshe’snotgoingtofadeaway,youguys.She’snotafade-awaykindofgirl.She’sgoingtofight.
Youhavenoideahowmuchfightthatgirlhas.Imean,likeIsaid,onedayIwasgreat.Justdoingmy
thing.Andthen…andthenthisperfectfuckingprincesswalkedintomylife.”

ChapterTwo-Paxton-EightWeeksAgo

MalibuColonyisahavenforsomebodies.Myhouserentsoutfortwohundredthousanddollarsa

monthinthesummer.ButIdidn’trentitoutthisyear.I’menjoyingit.I’menjoyingthegatethatkeeps
theworldawayamiledowntheroad.I’menjoyingthemoviestarswhojogonthesandwhenthetide
islow.I’menjoyingthebreeze,andthesunsets,andthesaltymistthatfindsitswayontomyface
whileI’mdrinkingabeerandwatchingtheRamsplayapre-game.

Thisplaceismycastle.Myhome.Myworld.
Andnooneknowsaboutitbutme.
Notmyfather,whohasn’tbotheredtocallmeinmorethanadecade.Notmyfriends,whohaveno

ideawhatI’mdoingninedaysoutoften.Notevenmymother,whoonlyvisitsmeintheDelMar
housebecauseifshe’sgoingtosetfootinthestatethatbirthedmybastardofafather,shewantsto
hearthehorsesrunasshedrinksontheterrace.

It’sbig,andmodern,andhassixloungechairslinedupinfrontoftheglassterracewallthat

separatesmefromthePacificOcean.It’sgotarooftopterracewithafirepit.Andalappool
surroundedbytallpalmsthatmakemusicwhenthewindcatchesthelong,slenderfrondsinjustthe
rightway.

Therearesolarlightsalongthepolishedconcretewalkwaythatleadsfromthefrontoftheloton

thestreetallthewaybacktothebeach.Andtherearesurfboardsleaningupagainstthewallofthe
housenextdoor.AllIhavetodoiswalkby,grabone,andslapthatsuckerdownontothefoam.

Andthelight.Holyfuckingshit,thelight.Youneverknowwhatcoloritwillbe.Maybepinkinthe

mornings,comingfromtheeast—itshinesinthroughthefrontbedroomsandlightsupthewhole
upstairs.Ordeepred,ororange,oryellowintheeveningswhentheworldmoveswesttowardsthe
night.

It’slikeafuckingfairytale.
Andthebestthingofallistheconstantroarofthemonsteroutside.Thepowertheocean

commands.It’slikeageneralbarkingorderstwenty-fourhoursaday.Orderslike,Hearme.Seeme.
Knowme.

Idon’ttakeordersverywell,butthosekindsofordersIcanhandle.
Hearme.Seeme.Knowme.
Icanrelatetothat.
PeopleknowmeasMr.Mysterious.Thetallone.Thedarkone.Thescaryone.Butonlyoneperson

onthisearthunderstandsPaxtonVance.Andsheistuckedawayonthebreedingfarmshebredmeon.
Shehearsme.Sheseesme.Sheknowsme.

MymotheristheonlywomanItrust.
Ihavehearditall,seenitall,knownitallwhenitcomestopeople.
Andnoneofitisgood.
Peoplearebad.Thatisthelessonshetaughtmeearlyusingmyownfatherasanexample.
Peoplearebad.
Youkeepyourheaddown,youdoyourjob,andyougotobedaloneforaslongasyoucanstand

it.Thosearethetruthsofmyworld.

Andshewasright,wasn’tshe?Threeyearsoutoftheprotectiveenvironmentofprivateeducation

androllinghillscoveredingourmetgrassandIwaslookingstraightdownthebarrelofaverydirty
realityofprison,publicshame,andregrets.

Thefrontdoorbuzzerringsoutintothehouse,soIsetmybeerdownonthecoasterprotectingthe

glass-topendtableandshufflemybarefeetpastthediningroom,downthestairsintothecourtyard,
pastthelappoolandthepalmtrees,upthestairsintothefronthouse,andcoverthedistancetothe
dooratajog.

Don’twanthertothinkI’mnothome.
Ismileatthat.
Don’twanthertothinkIstoodherup.
Ichuckleatthat.
Don’twanttokeepherwaiting.
Igettothedoor,stopandlookatmyselfinthehallmirror—tannedgoldenbrown,muscles

makingtheperfectoutline,hairtousledandmessyfromsurfingthismorning—andopenitup.

“Hey,”Isay.
“Mr.Brown,”shesays,withawink.“Nicetofinallyseeyouagain.”Sheholdsalargepapersack

withareceiptstapledtoitoutformetotake.

Igrabit,thenmoveaside.“Comein,letmefindmywallet.”Imakeahalfturn,thenturnback.

“Hey,you’veneverseenthehouse,haveyou?”

“Nope,”shesays,blushingalittle.
We’vebeenflirtingallsummer.Alittlewinkhere.Acoysmilethere.Ihavenoideawhosheis

otherthanthetake-outgirlfromBuster ’sSurfSubs.Idon’tevenknowhername.AllIknowisthat
shedrivesaclassicpowder-blueVWBugandshesmellsdeliciouseverytimeIseeher.

“Well,lookaroundifyouwant.Gofindtheview.I’lljustbeasecond.Ithinkmywalletisupstairs

onthebeachside.”

Ijogaway,knowingfullwellsheischeckingoutmyass,mytightlymuscledback,thecurveofmy

shoulders.

Theladiescan’thelpit.I’mquiteaspecimen.
Idon’teverleavetheColonyinanythingotherthanasuitortacticalgear.ButwhenIanswerthe

doorfortake-outgirl,Iamnothingbutahalf-nakedsurfbum.

“OK,”shesays,alittleexcitementinhervoice.
Iknowwheremywalletis.Itisupstairsonthebeachside.IknowthatbecauseIputitthereon

purpose.

Take-outgirlhasbeencominghereallsummertodropoffmyfood.IorderfromBuster ’satleast

onceaweek.More,ifI’mhome.Workhasbeenprettybusyrecently,soI’vemissedherthepasttwo
weeks.

Timetomakeupforit.
Ipassthepool,takethestairsthreeatatimebackintothebeach-sidehouse,thenhookaleftup

morestairswherethemasterbedroomis.

Mywalletisonthebed.
Iwalkovertoit,pickitup,andI’mjustabouttogooutontotheterracetowaitforhertofindthe

oceansoIcanlookdownatherfromabovewhenshesays,“Wow.Lookatthatfuckingview.”

Iwhirlaround.
Now…Iplannedhowthismightgo.AndwhileIdidplacethewalletonthebedonpurpose,it

wasn’tdonewiththepresumptionthatshe’dfollowmeuphere.Ifiguredshe’dlingerinthehallway
foraminute,getaglimpseofthepoolontheothersideoftheguesthouse,thenwanderdownthat
way,admiringthepalmtreesasshelookedupatthesky.Thenmakeherwaytowardsthelivingroom
andkitchenwherethemoneyshotlives.

Onceyouseethewavescrashingtwentyfeetaway,yourfeethavenochoice.Youmovetowards

thatcallofhearme,seeme,knowme.

Herfeetdoindeedtravelandcrosstherequireddistance.Asshebrushespastme,Icatchherscent.

It’ssomethingsweet.Almostinnocent.Strawberries,maybe.Amilkshake.Abakery.

Sugar,Irealize.Shesmellslikesugar.
It’ssooppositeofeverythingsheappearstobe.She’sgotablackbikerjacketon,cuttotheshape

ofawoman.It’sbeencoolthepastfewdays,someafternoonrain,butit’snotcoldenoughforthis
jacket.Ithangsoffhershoulderalittle,givingmeaglimpseofhoney-bronzeskinandthethinstrap
ofhertanktop,whichhastinysilverspikesasaccents.Thejackethaspatchessewnonit.Colorful
ones,mostlywithskullsandmotorcycles.Butonlypictures,nowritingonthem.Andithaszippers.
Theyjingle,alongwiththezippersonherblackleatherboots.NotDocMartens.Somethingflashier
thanthat.Somekindofcrossbetweenabikerandacowboyboot.Hertannedlegsarebareandlong.
Herthighsdisappearunderashortblackandwhitetartanskirtthatremindsmeofaninappropriate
school-girluniform.

Whenshereachesforthetopoftheglassrailing,amillionlittlesilverbraceletsslipoutfrom

underhercuffandsingtome.

Shesighs.Longandsoft.“God,Ilovetheocean.Igrewupinthemountains,mostly.Onafarm.”

Shelaughs—loudly—andturnsawayfromthewater,leansbackagainsttherailing.Likeshe’sposing
foraphoto.

She’ssodamnpretty,shecouldbeamodel.
“You’resolucky.”
“Yeah?”Iask,wantingverybadlytotuckastraypieceofjet-blackhairbehindherearsoIcansee

herfacebetter.Hermakeupmatchesheroutfit.Dark,dramaticeyes.Eyelashessolong,I’mnotsure
howsheseespastthem.Andfull,glossypinklips.

Thepinklipsthrowmealittle.It’slikeherscent.Somethingcountertowhatsheappears.
“What’syourname?”Iask.
“Cinderella,”shesays.
Andmaybe,comingfromanyoneelse,atanyothertime,thatmightcomeoffasridiculous.But

now,righthereinthismoment,itseems…inevitable.

“Ofcourseitis,”Isay,walkingtowardsher.ShehastotiltherheadupasIapproachbecauseI’m

tallandsheisjustaverageheightforawoman.Herneckislongandgraceful,likeaballerina’s.

Howmanyotherthingscanshepossiblybe?Allwrappedupintothisoneuniquepackage?
“WhyamIlucky?”Iask,leaningontherailing,tryingmybestnottoletherknowhowinterestedI

am.

Shedrawsinadeepbreathandturnswithme.Westudythebeginningsofasunsetforamoment.

“Thisplace,right?”

“Ilikeit,”Isay.“Butit’sjustaplace.”
“Yeah,butnoteveryonegetstohaveallthis,youknow.”
“Wheredoyoulive?”Iask,turningmyheadtolookather.“Itcan’tbethatfaraway.Noonedrives

intoMalibutoworkasatake-outgirl.”

“Iwassharingahousewithsomefriendsforthesummer.”
“Summer ’sjustaboutover,”Isay.
“Yeah.”Shesighs.“Iknow.I’mleavingtomorrow.”
“Oh,”Isay,surprisedatthelevelofregretIfeel.“Whereto?Backtoschool?Yougotocollege?

UCLA?”

“No.I’mdonewithcollege.”
“Oh,”Isayagain.“Youlookyoung.”

“Iknow.”Shelaughs.“I’mtwenty-three.Justturned.”
“Wheredidyougotocollege?”
“UCLA,”shesays.“Youguessedright.”
AndIdon’tknowwhy,butIknowit’salie.“Whatdidyoumajorin?”
“Mechanicalengineering.”
Ispitoutalaugh.
“What?”shesays,turningtofaceme.Buteventhoughherprotestcomesoffslightlyoffended,her

eyescomeofftotallyplayful.“Idon’tlooklikeanengineer?”

“Notevenalittlebit,sugar.”
Shetriestoholdinagrin,fails,andturnsherheadaway.“Well,Iam,”shesaysfirmly.
“Thenwhythetake-outjob?Shouldn’tyoubeworkingforsomefirmorsomething?”
“I’mnotreadytosettledownyet.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Wherewillyougotomorrow?”Iask.
Shelooksatme.Deadstraightintheeyes.Andsays,“I’mmovinginherewithyou.”

ChapterThree-Cindy

PaxtonVance,AKAMr.Browntome,doesn’tlaughandIknowI’veplayedeverycardrightthese

pastseveralweeks.IknewhewasinterestedtheveryfirsttimeIcametodeliverhimfood.Two
sandwiches.Onefoot-longroastbeefwithextramayo,lettuce,andtomato.Onefoot-longgrilled
chickenwithavocadoandranch.Bothonwhite.Healwaysgetsthesamething.

Hedrivesacurrent-yearblackAudiA7,whichsurprisesmesinceit’sluxury,butnotuptowhathis

standardshouldbe.Heboughtthishousecashsixyearsago,whichwouldmakehimjustalittlebit
olderthanmeatthetime,andhepaidfourteenmillionforit.

He’saLeo,whichiscomplementarytomyGemini.Andhisbirthdayjustpassedthreeweeksago.

Hewasoutoftownforitanddidn’tcelebratewithafoot-long.

Helikestocookandlastnighthegrilledseabassontherooftopdeck,thenatealoneashewatched

thesunset.

“Withme?”hesays,unfazed.
“IthinkI’dliketogettoknowyoubetter,Mr.Mysterious.”Whichisalie.OneofseveralIjusttold

him.Iknoweverythingabouthimalready.I’vebeenstudyinghimforyears,justbidingmytime.
Malibuwastheperfectplacetomakemymovethough,soIwaited.Heusuallyrentsthehouseoutin
thesummer.“BetterthanIalreadydo,anyway,”Isay,winkingathim.

“Oh,fuck,”hesays.“Whothehellareyou?”Histonehaschangedfromfunandflirtytodead-ass

serious.

“Don’tgetcrazy,Paxton,”Isay,usingmysecretcoysmileonhim.Hedrawsinabreathlikehe

wantstosaysomething,butchangeshismindandstaysquiet.“I’mnotheretomesswithyou.I’mjust
heretomeetyou.”

“Soyoudid,”hesays,inthatlowgrowlyvoice.“Nowwhat?”
“Now…”Ishrug.“Webegin.”
“Whatarewebeginning?”heasks.
“Abeautifulrelationship.”Andthen,beforehecanlaugh,Iplaythenextcard.“Working

relationship,Mr.Vance.Working.”

“Idon’tneedanengineer,sweetheart.SoI’mnotsurewhatexactlywe’llbeworkingon.”
“Oh,silly.Thatwasalie.”Ilaugh.“Justtofillthespace.Aplaceholder.Iwasn’tsureifthis

conversationwouldgothewayIplanned,so—”

“Thewayyouplanned?”
“—soIwantedtokeepthingsneutraljustincase.”
“Incasewhat?”Hisvoicerisesslightly,butnotmuch.IknowPaxtonVancewellenoughfrom

spyingtoknowhedoesn’tflyoffthehandleoroverreact.Hisstyleiscalm.Cool.Completelyatease.

“Justincasewedidn’tgetthisfarintotheconversation.You’regoingtohireme,Pax.Iknowthat.

Youdon’trealizeityet,butyouwill.”

“I’llaskagain,justforthesakeofthegame,”PaxsaysinthatseriousIdon’tfuckaroundvoice.

“WhatwillIhireyoutodo?Bringmefood?”

Idon’tevenmissabeat.“I’llbeyourassistant,ofcourse.Youneedhelp.I’vebeenwatchingyou

—”

“Watchingme?”

Oh,oh,oh—isthatalittlefreakoutIhearcoming?Maybe?Possibly?WillMr.Mysteriousreally

losecontrolsoeasily?

“Ithinkyoubetterleave,Cinderella.Orwhateveryourrealnameis.”
“That’smyrealname,allright.MymomhadathingforDisneyprincesses.Shenamedmeandmy

sistersafterthem.AndsinceI’mtheyoungest,andnoparentintheirrightmindwantstonametheir
kidCinderella,Igotstuckwithit.Oh,howIwishIwasbornfirst.Myoldestsister,Aurora,gotthe
normalname.”

“Disney?”Hebellowsoutalaughsoloud,somedog-walkingguydownonthebeachlooksupat

us.

“Pax,”Isay,takinghishand.Helooksdownatournewlyentwinedfingers,startled.“I’mgoodat

whatIdo,Ipromise.Youneedme.Youreallydo.”

“Youroccupationis?Stalker?”Anotherlaugh.Thisisgoingwell.
“Privateinvestigatorwithfirearmspermit.Mydaddytaughtmetoshoot,soyoudon’thaveto

worryaboutmeandweapons.Icandoitall.Handguns—evena.45—shotgun,high-poweredrifle.I
havemyownKevlarandI’vebeendoingmixedmartialartssinceIwasnine.”

“Where…how…thefuckdidyougetalicense?You’reababy.”
“Shhhiiit,”Isay.“IstartedworkingforDanielStowwhenIwaseighteen.Iloggedmyfour

thousandhoursbythetimeIwastwenty.IgraduatedfromhighschoolwhenIwassixteen.Sobythe
timeImovedtoCaliforniaforcollege,Ihadtwoyearsofundergraddone.I,sir,haveamaster ’s
degreeincriminology,law,andsocietyfromUCIrvine.”

“Ithoughtyouwereanengineer.”
“Andyoubelievedme!”Isay,excited.“SeehowgoodIam!”
“AndyoudidnotworkforDanielStow.IknowDanielStow.Hatethatmotherfuckertoo.”
“Iknow.Hetalksaboutyouallthetime.WhichiswhereIgottheideatomeetyou.Hehatesyou

back,incaseyou’rewondering.”

That’sanotherlie.Notthehatepart—Ithinkeveryonehatesthisguybutme—theideapart.Butno

needtobombardpoorMr.Mysteriouswiththetruthatthispoint.I’vegothimeatingoutofmyhand.

“Whatdoeshesayaboutme?”Paxtonsays,anangrylookcrossinghisface.
“Oh,theusual,”Isay,wavingahand,likethat’sneitherherenorthere.“Unstable,mean…guilty.

ButIwasintrigued.AndthemoreIlearnedaboutyou,Pax,themoreintriguedIbecame.SoIstarted
followingyou.”

“JesusfuckingChrist.I’mgonnaneedarestrainingorder.”Hegrabsthatdark,wavyhairfora

secondwithbothfists,likehe’slosinghismind.

“Youneedme.Iknowyouneedme.I’mgood.So…”Ibeamasmileathim.“I’myournew

assistant.”

He’sgotmebythearmandhe’sdraggingmebackintothehouse.
“Wherearewegoing?”IaskasItrynottotripdownthestairs.
“You’releaving.”
“I’mnotleaving!Ijustgothere!”
“Yourbossatthesandwichshopislookingforyou.Yougottago.AndI’mnevercallingtherefor

takeoutagain.”

“Idon’thaveaboss!”Iyell.“Iowntheshop!”
“What?”Atleasthestops.We’reallthewaydownbythepoolnow.Andshit.Ihadthatmaster

bedroomrightinthepalmofmyhandtwosecondsagoandnowlook.Allthewaybackdownstairs.
“Youownit?Howthefuck—”

“Paxton,”Isaysternly.“I’mgoingtoneedyoutofocus.OK?Listen.To.Me.”
“Whothefuck—”

“I’mCinderellaVaughn.”God,anotherlie.Butithastobedone.HecannotknowI’mhisbest

friend’sbabysister,nowcanhe?Thatwouldprettymuchruineverything.“I’malicensedprivate
investigatorwithafirearmspermit.AndI’myournewpartner.”

“Yousaidassistant!”
“Wecanstartthere.Sure.”
“No,”hesays.“You’releaving,I’mforgettingthiswholething,and—”
Iyankmyarmfromhisgripandcrossmyarmsovermychest.“I’mnotleaving.We’reinbusiness

togethernow.”

“IsthishowyouweaseledyourwayintoDaniel’sbusinesstoo?”
“Weaseled?”Isigh.God,he’sjustnotgettingit.“I’mnotweaseling.AndGod,no,Ineverfucked

Daniel.Gross.He’soldenoughtobemygrandfather.”

“Fucked?”
“Paxton,doyoualwayshavetoasksomanyquestions?Whyareyousoclueless?Weare

soulmates.Getit?Thisisfateslappingyourface.I’mfate.”

“You’recrazy.”Helaughs.
“No,”Isayfirmly.“Mymethodsareunorthodox,yes.Butsoareyours.Soyousee,we’reperfect

foreachother.”

Ismile,myspeechcomplete.NotexactlyhowIrehearsedit,butcloseenough.
“Thehousewiththefriends?”heasks.
Iholdmythumbandpointerfingersclosetogether.“Teeny,tinylie.”
“Leavingtomorrow?”
“Lie.Iownthathouse.”
“HowthefuckdoyouownabeachhouseinMalibu?Andasandwichshop?”
“Mymommyanddaddyarerich.Isn’tthathowyougotyourmoney?”Whyishewastingtimeon

thistrivialbullshit?Heshouldbedraggingmebackupintothatbedroomsohecanfuckmeagainst
thewindow.

“No,”hegrowls.
“Yes,”Isayback.“YourfatherisCharlieVance.YourmotherisMarielHawthorne.Theyhave

billionsmoredollarsthanmyfamily.”

“Iearnmymoney,Cinderella.”
Oh,God.Ihavedreamedabouthimsayingmynamelikethat.“Iliketoearnminetoo!”Isqueal.

“Seehowmuchwehaveincommon?”

“You’recrazy,”hesays,pointingafingeratme.
“Ilickmylipsandimaginemyselfsuckingonit.”
“Youjustsaidthatoutloud.”
“Idid?”Ilaugh.“Oh,well,Ihaveahabitofthat.Speakingmythoughtsoutloud.It’sweirdatfirst,

butyou’llgetusedtoit.See,whenyou’renamedafterafictionalcharacteryougetallsortsofideas
aboutwhoyouare.SowhenIwasakidIusedtoimaginemyselfasacharacterinabookand
everythingIdid,Isortofnarrated.Iwaspracticingfortellingstoriesinthefuture.”

“Lies,youmean?”
“No,no,no,listen.Stories.Like…I’dbewalkingaroundthefarminthewinterandI’dbeall,‘Her

bootsmadeacrunchingnoiseasshepassedoverthesnow.’Inarratedmylife.I’dbeall,‘Herfather ’s
motorcyclesoundedlikethethunderofwingsandthepoundingofhooves.’Wehadalotofbikesat
ourhouse.Andhorses.Sodon’tjudgemysimiles.”

“AmIdreamingrightnow?AmIhavingastroke?”
“No,”Iexclaim.“Thisisreal,Pax.That’swhat’ssogreataboutit.Thisisallreal.Wedidit,”Isay,

sighingwithrelief.

“Didwhat?”
“Foundeachother.Nowwe’llbetogetherforever.”

ChapterFour-Paxton

She’snuts.Igrabherarmagain,tuggingheralongwithme—evercarefulnottobetoorough,lest

Igetslappedwitharapechargeagain—andstopatthefrontdoor.

“Iunderstand,”shesays.“Igetit.It’sweirdcomingfacetofacewithyoursoulmate.SoI’mgoing

togiveyousometime—”

“Great,”Imumble,throwingthedooropen.“Seeyaaround,sugar.Watchoutforfallingtiarasor

droppedshoesor…”Fuckit.Igotnothingforthis.

Islamitclosedandengagethechainlock.Ihaven’tusedthatthingin…ever.Thehouseiswired

upfromtoptobottom,courtesyofanalarmcompanyOliverrecommended.AndthankGodfor
motiondetectors.BecauseI’mmakingsureeverythingisarmedtonight,boy.

Fuck.
ItakeadeepbreathandrealizesheleftmysandwicheshereandIforgottopayher.
Oh,well.She’stheboss,right?Shecan’tgetfired.Besides,sheowesmethosetwosandwichesas

farasI’mconcerned.

Crazyfuckinggirl.
Igrabthepapersackandwalkbacktothebeachsideofthehouse,takingaseatontheterrace.
Ieat,tryingtogettheweirdgirloutofmymind.Whytoday?Aftersolongwithoutagirl,whydoI

havetogethornyanddecideI’dliketofucktoday?

Well,Ipickedthewronggirl.Andisn’tthatthestoryofmylife?Jesus.Hasthereeverbeenagood

one?

No.
No.Iamacrazybitchmagnet.Everysingleoneofthemhasbeencertifiable.
ItriedtotellmyselfI’mjustoneofthosecharismaticmen,thekindwhoattractfollowersand

whatnot.Charmingandhandsome.Ican’thelpthatamajorityofwomenfindmeirresistible.

It’swhyIplayedthatgameinthefirstplace,right?
Well,isn’tthatsweet.Doeseverythinghavetocomebacktoher?Thatfuckingbitchwhotriedto

ruinmylife?

Forgetaboutit,Pax.Justeatyourdinner,takeashower,andthinkaboutsurfingtomorrow

morning.

SoIdo.
AndIdon’tevenwonderifthefoodispoisoneduntilI’mscarfingdownthelastbiteofthechicken

avocadoranch.

Isn’tthatthepreferredmethodofkillingenemiesinfairytales?



Itwasn’t.Poisoned,Imean.BecauseIfeelfinewhenIwakeupatdawnandgrabacupofcoffee

beforeIhitthewaves.Ipullmyspringsuitupmybodyandslipmyarmsin,flexingmymusclesa
littletogetcomfortable,thengetmyfavoriteboardfromthesideofthehouseandjogdownthesand.
It’snotexactlycoldthismorning,maybesixties.Butit’sclearthatsummerisjustaboutoverandall
thetouristshavegonehomebecausethereareonlyabouthalfadozenguysoutwaitingonwaves.

Irunintothesurf,dropontotheboard,andstartpaddling.
Idon’ttalktoanyone,butIknowalltheirfaces.Themiddle-ageddudewholivesafewhouses

down.He’sayear-roundguy.LivedherewhenImovedin,andI’veneversaidmorethantenwordsto
himatatime,soIhavenoideawhathedoes,otherthansurfeverymorningandleavehisrooftop
terracehatchunlocked—evenwhenhe’snothome.FindingthatoutwasahappyaccidentwhenIwas
drunkonenightanddecidedIcouldjumpfromrooftoroof.Igottiredathishouseanddiscovered
hedoesn’tlockhishatch.He’sgotahotwife,too.Probablysomemodelfromdaysgoneby,because
she’sattractiveinthatbeachyCaliforniakindofwayeventhoughshe’sgottobepushingfifty.

Thetwoteenactors.Ionlyknowthey’reactorsbecauseIdidbackgroundchecksonthose

hoodlumslastyear.TheyhaveahouseinBurbank—nottoofarfromMr.Corporate,nowthatIthink
aboutit—anddon’tliveherefull-time.

Thenthere’sthethreetwenty-somethingswhowearsuitsduringtheday,justlikeme,andalldrive

clichécars,justlikemine.Theylivenexttoolddudewithhotwife.Theysharethathouseandthrowa
lotofparties.IhadtocheckthemouttoobecausethepolicecameonceandthatisthekindofshitI
needtoknowabout.

Butthatwaslastyearandsincethen,nomoreproblems.
TheyallnodatmewhenIturnaroundandsituponmyboardtotakealookaroundandadmiremy

house.

Ilovethisplace.It’smorehomethanhome.
Andthat’swhenIspotanothersurfer.Eventhoughit’sbarelydawnandthemorninghazeis

clutteringupthevisibility,Iknowwhothenewcomerisimmediately.

Her.
Bakerygirl.Iwonderifshesmellslikesugarcoveredinoceansaltwater?
Herdarkhairispulledbackintoalongponytailandherspringsuitiswhitewithblackstripeson

thearms.

Shepaddlesstraightforme.
Ilookaround,weighallmyoptionsanddecidenottomakeabigdealaboutitwhenI’vegotsix

witnesseswhoprobablywonderonaregularbasiswhoIamandwhyI’msomysterious.

Noway.IfthisbitchthinksI’llputonashowforthelocals,she’sgotanotherthingcoming.
“Goodmorning,”sheyells—sofuckingloud—whenshegetsoverthebreakers.
Iglanceattheotherguys,noticethey’renoticingus,andtakeadeepbreathwhenoneofthem

paddlescloser.

“Hey,”hesays,onceheknowsIcanhearhim.“Doyouknowthatchick?”
“Why?”Igrowl.
“I’veseenheraroundtheneighborhood.Fuckingfine,man.Youdatingher?”
“Idon’tdodates.”Isnort.
“Good,”hesays,turninghimselfaroundinthewater.“BecauseI’mhittingthatshitrightthefuck

now,bro.Thiswasjustacourtesycall.”

Inarrowmyeyesathisbackashepaddlestohisfriends.He’soneoftheparty-houseguys.
“She’sallyours,”Icallafterhim.Hedoesn’tanswer.Asshole.
“Pax!”thesugarprincessyells.
IhavetotakeadeepbreathandcounttotensoIdon’tbark,Shutthefuckup.Ipaddletowardsher

soshewon’tannouncemygoddamnednametoallthesestrangersagainandwhenwe’reabouttwenty
feetapart,Isay,“Keepyourvoicedown.”

“Sorry,”shesays,sittinguponherboardandswipingthelongstrandsofblackhairoutofher

eyes.“Forgot.You’vegotthatwholeMr.Mysteriousthinggoingon.”

“Jesusfuck.Willyoushutup?”

“Theycan’thearme,”shesays,wavingahandovertowardstheparty-houseguys.“Isawhim

talkingtoyouandIdidn’thearathing.Whatdidhesay,anyway?Youbothlookedoveratmeafter.”

“Hesayshewantstofuckyou.”
“Oh.”Shelaughs.“DidyoutellhimI’mtaken?”
“No,”Igrowl.“Idon’tgiveashitwhoyoufuck.Idon’tevenknowyou.”
“Yet.”
“Notyet,princess.I’mnotgoingtoknowyouever.Infact,Iknowtoomuchaboutyoualready.

Don’ttellmeanymoredetailsbecauseI’mnotinterested.”

“Yousureaboutthat?”shesays,lookingoverhershoulderatanincomingwave.“Anddon’tcall

meprincess.”Shefrownsforamomentbeforeturningitbackintoasmile.“Myoldestsisterclaimed
thatnickname.”

“Aurora?”Ilaugh,tryingtodecideifIshouldtakethiswavejusttogetawayfromher.Butparty

guynumberonelookslikehe’sgettingready,andit’scuttingawayfromme,soIdon’t.

“Youremembered!”Sugarsays.“Yes.See,we’regonnagetalongsowell,youandI.So,sowell.”
“Look,Cinderella.”Ihavetoshakemyheadathername.Ican’teventakethisconversation

seriouslycallingherthat.“I’maprivatekindofguy,asyouknow.”Istressthatlastword,justtomake
suresheunderstandsI’mpissedoffaboutthisbullshit.“Soyou’regonnagoyourwayandI’mgonna
gomyway,andwe’rebothgonnaforgetanyofthiseverhappened.I’mnotinterested.”

Butjustasthelastofmywordsarecomingoutofmymouth,shestartsfuriouslypaddling,her

attentiononanincomingwave.Theswellliftsme,carriesmeforwardalittle,andthenIbobback
down.ButCinderellaisalreadyup,weavingbackandforth,ridingitout.

She’sgood.BetterthanIthoughtshe’dbe.Ikindafiguredshewasjustplayingouthere.Tryingto

getmyattention,butno.Thegirlsurfs.

Andownsasandwichshop.Andahouse.InMalibu.
Idon’tknow.Somethingaboutthisisallkindsofwrong.Allthelittleredflagsarewavingatme.

Allthelittlealarmbellsaregoingoff.

Hmmm.
Sheditchesthewavenearthebeach,andshe’sgettingreadytopaddlebackwhentheparty-house

guywhowantstomakeamovesurfsrightupnexttoherandfallsintothewater.Whenhecomesup,
theyarebothlaughing.Talking.Smiling.

Oh,isthathowshe’sgonnaplaythis?Getmejealous?
Idon’tdojealous.
Theypaddlebacktogetherandshehangsoutwithallthreepartyguysafterthat,completely

ignoringme.

Icatchafewwaves,thenheadbacktothehouse.
Games,man.
Icanplaywiththebestofthem.ButIjustdon’tdoitanymore.

ChapterFive-Cindy

PaxtonVancewasbornPaxtonNathanielVancetoMarielHawthorneandCharlesVancethirty-one

yearsago.Hisparentsnevermarried,buthismotherdidgivehimhisfather ’slastname—againsthis
father ’swishes.

AfterallthesnoopingI’vedoneonhimovertheyears,thatonelittletidbitsaysmoreabout

Paxton’sfamilylifethananythingelse.Morethanthenon-existentchildsupportpayments,morethan
thelackofsummervacationswiththepaternalsideofthefamily,morethantheoccasionalvisits
CharlesVancetookbacktoKentuckyeveryfewyears.

Whydidhisfatherevenbother,Iwonder?Itwasclearfromthebeginninghewasneverinterested

inhisunexpectedprogeny.CharlesVancehasahugefamily.Sevenbrothersandsisters,althoughfour
ofthemareonlyhalf-siblings.Hisownfatherwasaknownserialphilanderer.Soit’salmostfatethat
hehadthesameinclination.

ButunlikePaxton’sfather,hisgrandfathercouldaffordthebastardchildrenhespawned.Ahit

movieinthelateSeventiessecuredhisplaceinHollywoodhistory.Hehadseveralgreaterrolesafter
that,untiltheearlytwothousands,whenhewasjusttoooldtopulloffthatbad-boyleadingman
characteranymore.

Sincethenhe’sbeenquiet,outofthepubliceye,andfromwhatIcangather,afull-fledged

alcoholic.Justlikehisson,Charles.

MarielHawthorne,ontheotherhand,hasneverbeenacasualrelationshipkindofwoman.Which

iswhyitnevermadesensethatsheallowedknowndeadbeatplayboyCharlestoseduceherinher
earlytwenties.

Igotherschoolrecords—Marielwasanoverachieverattheverybestall-girls’boardingschoolin

NewEngland—andeveryteachermaderemarksonherprivatenature,standoffishattitude,and
seriousgoal-setting.

HerfamilycomesfromalonglineofKentuckythoroughbredbreeders.Theydon’ttrainthem,

theyjustbuyandbreedthem.AndMarielseemeddeterminedtokeepherfather ’slegacyasa
producerofsomeofthemostfamousracehorsesinAmericanhistoryalive.

LimitlessFarms,underthemanagementofMariel,hasproducedelevenBreeders’Cupwinners

andnineKentuckyDerbywinners,justtonameafew.Lastyearatthespringsale,sheboughtfour
maresandsixyearlingcoltswithpurerbloodlinesthantheQueenofEngland.Shespenteleven
milliondollarsatthatsale.

Butshealsosoldtenpregnantbroodmaresandsixfilliesandshecameoutaheadmorethanten

million.

Hernetworthplacesheramongtheveryrichestandpowerfulwomenintheworld,ifnothistory.
Andninety-ninepointnine-ninepercentofthepopulationofpeopleonthisplanethasnoideawho

sheis.Sheisnotaone-percenter.Sheissomuchricherthananyhipsterlabelcandescribe.

Andshegotitallfromhorses.
Ichecked.ThatwomanisascleanasCharlesVanceisdirty.LimitlessFarmspridesitselfonits

one-hundred-percenttransparencypolicy.Publishingheryearlyearningseventhoughitisnota
publiclytradedfirm.

I’mnotsurewhattomakeofthat,honestly.Whywouldsuchaprivatewomanpublishhernet

worthsoopenly?Everysaleandpurchaseispublic.Shegoestothespringandfallauctionsat
Keenelandasherself.Shedoesnothiresomeonetoappraisethehorsesandbidforherviainternetor
phone.Shesitsherassinthatpavilionandraiseshernumberedpaddlelikeeveryoneelse.Andshe
meetswithprospectivebuyersinperson.Iknow,Igotameetingwithherattheon-sitestablesat
Belmontlastyear,feigninginterestinabreedingcontract.

She’squickthough.Shetookonelookatme—Iwasusingafalsenameofcourse—anddeducedI

wasanobodynotworthhertime.Andalthoughshewaspleasantandsmiledtheentiretime,shewas
veryclearthatherserviceswereoutofmybudget.

Butthoseweresomeofthemostinterestingfiveminutesofmylife.
ThatisPaxton’smother.
Someonehecaresverydeeplyfor.Infact,Idon’tthinkitwouldbepresumptuousofmetosaythat

MarielHawthorneisthemostinfluentialpersoninmyPaxton’slife.

He’samama’sboy.
God,thatissodamncute.Iwanttosqueezehim,it’ssocute.
Italsoexplainsalotabouthisbehavioroverthepasttenyears.Hisdemeanor,aswell.
Imaginebeingtwenty-one-year-oldPaxtonVance.SenioryearatBrownUniversity.Majoringin

businessandatthetopofhisclass.Andhavingtomakethatphonecallhometoexplainthatheisone
oftheinfamousMisterBrowns.

Idon’tlikeimaginingthatconversationactually.Idon’tthinkitinvolvedtears,oranythingso

dramaticasthat.Idon’tthinkitwasfilledwithscreamingoraccusations.Orevenapologies.

Ithinkitinvolvedthewords,“Iwillfixthis.Iwillmakeitright.”
Fixit.
ThewordsareinmythoughtsbeforeIevenrealizetheirimplication.
That’swhathedoesnow.Formoney.Hefixesthings.Hehidesthedirt,sweepsitundertherug,and

makeseverythinggoaway.

Buthisownproblemhasneverbeenfixed.Nevercleanedup.Andhehatesthefactthathehasput

thatsmudgeonhismother ’spristinefamilyname.

Whenpeoplehiremetofindthings,theveryfirstthingIdoisfindamotiveforthecontract.Why

dotheyneedme?Whataretheyafter?

MostofthetimeIgethiredtospyonaspouse.Onepartythinkstheotherischeating.Theywant

answers,theywantconfirmation,theywantproof.

SowhenIdecidedtospyonPaxton,Ineededtoassignmyselfamotivation.WhydoIneedto

knowabouthim?Whydoesheintrigueme?

Itwasmybrother,Oliver,whogotmeinterestedinPax.Theyweren’tfriendswhentheywere

accused.Notevenclose.Oliwasafirst-year,freshoutofpledgeweek,andhadonlybeenlivinginthe
housefortwoweekswhentheaccusationhappened.

Hedidn’ttellme,ofcourse.Noonetoldmeanything.I’mthebabyofthefamily.Fiveyears

youngerthanOliverandfifteenyearsyoungerthanmyoldestsisterAurora—Rory,aswecallher.

ButIwastheonlyonestilllivingathomewhenitallhappened.Olivercamebacktothefarm,

calledmyparentsintotheoffice,andclosedthedoor.Ihadthatofficewiredforyearsbythattime.
Myfatherandhissecretlifehavealwaysintriguedme.AndeventhoughIlearnedabsolutelynothing
aboutmyfatherandhispastwiththatwire-tap,IdidlearnthetruthaboutOliverandsomeofwhat
happenedthatnightatBrown.

Iwatchedthenewsrelentlesslyoverthenextseveralmonths.Peopleshowedup—peoplelikeFord

Aston,andhisson,Five.FordduckedoutofthislittleproblematFive’sinsistence,butthenFiveand
Oliverwentaway,cameback,wentawayagain.IsnoopedintoeverypublicrecordIcouldfindabout
eachoftheMisters,andwhenIcameupwithPaxtonVance’sbiography,well…colormeobsessed.

MyoldersisterArielisacomputergenius.SheandOlivergotinterestedincomputercoding

watchingFiveAstondevelopappswhenhewasateenager.Fivemadeatonofthem,andatonof
money,beforehelefthomeinthemiddleofninthgradetoattendOxford.

Fiveistherealgeniusinmyfamily.ArielandOliverarejusthisprotégées.Igotluckybecause

I’mthebaby.Everyoneignoresthebaby.SoIwatchedwhatArielandOliverweredoinganddidmy
besttokeepupuntilItalkedArielintoteachingmemorewhenIwasthirteen.

AndeventhoughIwishIcould’vewire-tappedtheAstonresidencetogetthefullstorybehindFive

andhisinfamousfather,Ford,Ineverneededawire-taptounderstandthefullextentofwhatFive
doeswithhissparetime.BecauseIgrewupwatchingitwithmyowneyes.

Hacking.
OliverandArielgotintosometroublewhentheywereteens.Arielisjustafewyearsolderthan

Oli,sotheywerefastandtightallgrowingup.Theyhadamatch-makingbusinesswhenArielwasin
highschoolandoneoftheirteenageclientswasthreateningtoexposethewholescheme.

UntilArielcalledinFive.
Thenitallwentaway.
He’skindofafixertoo.AndIhavewonderedmorethanonceifMr.Mysteriousisworkingfor

Five.

ButIdon’tthinkso.Thereisnoevidenceofthat.Fiveisawork-alonekindofguy,unlessheneeds

Oliver ’shelp.

SobackwhentheMisterswereaccusedofrapetenyearsago,FiveaskedArielandOlivertohack

intoalltheMisterrecordstoseewhattheyweredealingwith,andIfoundthefilesonAriel’s
computerthatChristmaswhensheleftherlaptopopenwhileshewastakingashower.

Isaweverything,butitwasMr.Mysteriouswhocapturedmyfullattention.
Mysteriousdidn’tevencoverhowtodescribehimbackthen.Itwouldn’tcomeoutthathewasthe

sonofCharlesVanceforanotherfewweeks.AndbythattimeIkneweverythingArieldidabouthim.

Hisstorywasthestuffmoviesaremadeof.Fairytalesandconspiracytheories.
ButIwasonlythirteen.Iwasill-equippedtodomyownsnooping.Andthat’spartofthereasonI

wentdownthispathofprivateinvestigator.

IneededmoreinformationthanArielhad.Ineededtoknoweverythingaboutthisman.
AndnowIdo.
Almost.
I’msoclose.Iknowallabouthisfamily.Hismotherandhisfather.Theirwinsandlosses.Iknow

abouthisbusiness.Iknowwhathedoes,whohedoesitfor.Iknowsomuchmorethananyoneelsein
thisworld.Maybeevenmorethanhisownmother.

ButIdon’tknowallofit.Thatonecrucialpieceofinformationismissing.
Whathappenedthatnight?
WhatwasPaxton’sroleinthataccusation?
Ineedthis.IneeditlikeIneedwaterandair.LikeIneedhim.
Fivewasquicktoshutthemallup.Sotheirstorieswereallsecretfromdayone.ButIknewsome

ofOliver ’sstoryandeventhoughIfoundnoproof,therehastobeaconnectionbetweenOliverand
Mr.Mysteriousbeyondthecharge.Somehow,someway,theirstoriesconjoinandthat’swhythey
havebeentightfriendseversince.

Atleast…that’swhatIthink.I’mnotsure,butIthinkI’mright.
WhyelsewouldalonerlikePaxseekoutmybrotherasaBFF?There’sathree-yearage

difference,whichisnobigdealnow,butbackthen,seniorsdidn’thangoutwithfreshmen.Ican’t
figureitout.Theseelusivedetailsarestillmissing.

Butnotforlong.

I’mgoingtogettothebottomofthisifit’sthelastthingIdo.I’mgoingtogettothebottomofit

andI’mgoingtodothatbybeingthemostimportantpersoninPaxton’slife.Hisbestfriend.His
lover.Hisconfidante.

Andnoamountofpushingmeaway,orfeigneddisinterest,orlogicalreasoningwilldeterme.
Iwillfigureouthissecret.Iwillfigureoutwhathappenedthatnight.Iwillfindalltheevidence,I

willputallthepuzzlepiecestogether,andIwillgivehimagifttosealthedeal.

IwillmakeitrightforalloftheMisters.
Butmostofall,IwillbethepersonwhogivesPaxtonVancealltheinformationheneedstocall

homeandtellhismotherthatitisdone.Itisfixed.Hisname,andbyextension,hers,iscleared.

Iwillsavehim.Becausehereallyneedssaving.Heneedstostopthisfixinghe’sbeendoing.He

needstostopdealingwiththelow-lifeHollywoodscum.Stoperasingtheirmistakesinsome
desperate,unconsciousattempttotrytoerasehisown.

Mr.Mysterious’businessisabouttocometoascreechinghaltandhewillthankmelater.
Evenifhehatesmeforitnow.

ChapterSix-Paxton

Foramysterygirl,CinderellasuredoesgetaroundthetownofMalibu.Afterthenot-so-chance

meetinginthesurf,shewaseverywhere.AtthecarwashlastTuesdaywhenIpulledintogetmycar
detailed.ShewaslaughingandtalkingwithRaul,theowner,liketheywereoldfriends.I’mhisold
friend,nother.

ThenextdayshewasinBigKahuna’sSurfshoppickingoutanewbikiniwhenItookmyboardin

togetafinrepaired.IknowBigprettywell,buthe’snotintheshopmuchdoingrepairs,sohecame
inspecialforme.AnddidhegreetmelikethefriendIam?No.Thatoldbumonlyhadeyesformy
sugar-smellingstalker.

Thedayafterthatitwasthedentist—andmyhygienisttalkedwithherfromthenextroomthe

entiretime.Iheardallaboutherdateswithpartyguy.Thenthedoctorcameinandproceedtoflirt
withherforsevenminutesasIwaited(notsopatiently)formycheck-up.Then,yesterday,shewas
backintheoceanwithme.Paddlingaroundinhernewbathingsuit,asscheekspracticallyhanging
out.

Shewaswiththepartyguys,notme,thistime.
AndasmuchasI’dliketosayitdidn’tbotherme,itbotheredme.
“Yeah,”Isayintomyphone.“I’dlikeafoot-longchickenavocadoranchandafoot-longroast

beefclassic.”

“Youraddress?”
Cinderelladidn’tanswerthephone.“16ColonyRoad.”
“Beaboutthirtyminutes.”
“Thanks,”Isay,thenendthecall.
Yup.I’mgonnahaveitoutwithherassoonasshegetsherewithmysandwiches.
IopenupmylaptoptoseeifIcanfindanydirtonherwhileIwait,whenmycalendarpopsup.
I’mjustabouttoclickitclosedandopenupmybrowserwhenInoticesomething.
DetailingappointmentonTuesday.
SurfshopappointmentonWednesday.
DentistappointmentonThursday.
Didshehackmycalendar?
Isnortoutalaugh.Thenanother.“Nah,”Isay.“Noway.”
ButthemoreIthinkaboutitthemoreitmakessense.CinderellaVaughnhackedmyass.She’sbeen

followingmearoundtown.

Iclosemylaptopandpace.Ipouranotherdrinkandcheckmywatch.She’llbeherewithmyfood

infiveminutes.

Igotothefronthouseandpeerthroughtheupstairswindowandwait.Butinsteadofthepowder-

blueVWbug,asmallwhitepick-upwiththeBuster ’slogoonthesidepullsup.

Andit’snotCinderellawhogetsoutwithmysandwiches.
Ijumpdowntheguesthousestairsthreeatatimeandlandwithathumpjustasthedoorbellrings.I

unlockitandpullitopenwitharush.

Thekidontheothersidejumpsbackastep,thenlaughs.“Shit,dude.Scaredthefuckoutofme.”
Helookslikehe’saboutseventeen,needsagooddermatologist,andcoulduseabouttwentymore

poundsonhissix-footframe.

Hestartsrummaginginhispocketforthetakeoutticketandsays,“That’llbefifteen—”
“Where’sCinderella?”
“Huh?”heasks,holdingoutmyreceipt.
“Yourboss?”
“Myboss?”Helaughsagain,morenervousthistime.“Youmeanthatweirdhotchick?She’sata

partytonight.”Henodshisheadofftomyright.“Downthestreetthatway.”

“Partyguy’shouse,”Isay,butnottohim.Justtomyself.
“What?”SkinnyKidlooksconfused.
“Nothing,”Isay,pullingatwentyoutofmypocket.“Keepthechange.”Ithrustthebillintohis

emptyhand,takemybagoffood,andslamthedoor.

Thatlittlesneaky,flirtybitch.
Ijogpastthepool,dropthesandwichesonasidetable,takethestepsinthemainhousethreeata

time,andgoallthewayuptotherooftopdeck.

Themusichasbeenplayinginthebackgroundforaboutanhour.Nothingtooloudorthumpy,so

I’vemostlyignoredit.ButnowthatI’muphere,it’spissingmeoff.Thereareatleasttwodozen
peoplecrowdedontothepartyguys’roofdeck.Theyhaveadoublelot—assholes—sotheirdeckis
twicethesizeofmine.

Andtheresheis.Notwearingtheleatherjacket.No.Wearingnothingbutthatsamebikinishehad

onyesterday.

Hasshebeenhangingoutwiththeseguysallfuckingweek?Aftershehackedintomycalendarand

thenstalkedmealloverMalibu?

Oh,hellno.
Thesehousesdownhereonthebeachareexactlysixfeetapart.SoIjumpovertomyneighbor ’s

rooftop,walkthetenpacesittakestogettotheedgeandjumpagain.Therearepeopleontheroofof
thethirdhousebetweenmeandpartyguys,andtheyseemecoming,handsupintheair,armsflailing
withprotests,butIignorethem,keepwalking,andjumpontoolddude’shousebeforetheyeven
realizewhat’shappening.

“I’mcallingthepolice!”someoneyellsfrombehindme.
They’rerenters.SoIknowtheydon’tknowwhoIamorwhereIcamefrom.ButIdoknowthatthe

MalibuPDwillbeherewithinfiveminutesiftheydocall,soIjumponemoretimeandknockovera
guywhodropstwodrinksashefalls.

Amateur.
Ipushmywaythroughthecrowdofpartiers,protestscomingfromalldirectionsnow,andstand

rightinfrontoflittleMissSugarCookie.

“Pax,”shesays,huge,satisfiedsmileonherface.
Shedidthistomakemejealous.Shefuckingstalkedmyassallweektokeepmeinterested,then

acceptedaninvitetothepartyhouseknowingfullwellIalwaysorderfoodonFridaynightifI’m
home,andtonightshewouldn’tbetheonetodeliverit.

“Ididn’tthinkyou’dcome.”Sheturns.“Youguys,”shesays,callingforthesurfersI’vespentthe

lasttwomonthsignoringoutintheocean.“Look,hecame!”

“Hey,man,”thetallonewhoaskedmeifhecouldnailCinderellalastweeksays.Itcomesout

amicablyenough,butIseethewayhiseyesaresquinting.Heprobablyhasn’tgottenfarwithheryet.
She’splayingagame,afterall.Andshe’sclearlyinterestedinme,sonotgonnafuckanotherdude
whileshe’swinning.Sothatlooksays,Staythefuckaway.

IshootthesamelookrightbackasItakeCinderella’shandandstartleadinghertowardsthestairs.
“Hey,”partyguysays,standinguprealfast.“Whatthefuckdoyouthinkyou’redoing?”

IlookatCinderella,whosmiles,thenovermyshoulderatpartyguy.Helookslikehefindsthe

ideaofafightinteresting.“Takingherhome.”

“She’snotgoinghome,asshole.Youare.She’sherewithme.”
IshrugandlookdownatCinderella.Shesmilesagain.“Um,hey,Matthew…Ihopeyoudidn’tget

thewrongideathisweek.Ilovehangingoutwithyou.It’sbeenalotoffun.ButI’mdatingPax.”

“Sincewhen?”Matthewasks.Thoseeyesofhisarepracticallyslitsrightnow.
Cinderellaopenshermouthtosaysomething,butIclampahandoverittoshutherup.Shedoesn’t

needtomakethisanyworsethanitis.“Noneofyourfuckingbusiness,”Ianswer.“AndifIwereyou,
I’ddropit.Justwalkaway,kid.Justwalkaway.Becauseshe’splayinggameswithbothofusandeven
thoughIdon’tliketobeplayedlikethat,Idoliketowin.Andthisrighthereismewinning.”

Hethrowsapunch.Iknewhewould.
Peoplearescreaming,bodiesareshifting.Hisfisthitsmesquareinthejaw,butit’sweak.Idon’t

evenfeelit.Thesirensareblurpingdownbelowontheprivateroad,thelightsareflashing,andthen
allhellbreaksloose.

IstillhaveaholdofCinderella’shand,soItughertowardstheedgeoftheroof.Shejumpswith

melikeamotherfuckingbadass.Andwebothlandontheoppositehouseatthesametimewithathud.

Thetouriststhenexthouseoverarescreamingforthecops.Pointingatus.Butthereissomuch

hellbreakinglooserightnow,I’mprettysureallthatgoesunnoticed.CinderellahasOldDude’sroof
terracehatchopenandwejumpdownintothenarrowstairsthatleadintoamasterbedroomandhead
straightforanothersetofstairsthatbringsusdowntobeachlevel.Nooneisheretonight.Theplace
isdark,soweslipoutthefrontandontothebeach,holdinghandsintheshadowscreatedbythethin
lineoforangelightspreadingoutonthePacificOceanlikeacarpet.

Wewalkslowly,butbreathinghard,aswecasuallymakeourwaybackdownthebeachtomy

house.It’shightiderightnow,sowearesquishedupagainstthefrontofalltheotherhouses,
practicallywalkingunderneaththestiltsthatkeeptheoceanoutoftheirlivingrooms.Noonecalls
forustostop.

Iopentheglassgatethatleadstomybeachfrontpatio,letCinderellaenterbeforeme,thencloseit

upasweleavethepartybehind.

Sheflopsonthecouch.Hugesmileonherface.Andthenpullsherkneesuptoherchest,squeezing

hertitstogethersotheypracticallyfalloutofheritty-bittybikinitop.Along,happysighcomesout
frombetweenherperfectlyplumpedlips.“Iknewyou’dmissme.”Sheturnsherheadslightly,looks
atmefromthecornerofhereye.“Eventually.”

“Eventually,”Ihuff.
“Ah.Iseeyougotyourfood.”Shegetsup,grabsthebagofsandwichesofftheendtablenearthe

stairs,thenflopsbackdown.“I’mstarving.I’lltaketheroastbeef.”

Istareatherforamoment.Considermyoptions.
Kickherout.Notgonnahappen.
Fuckherrightnow,thensendheronherway,satisfiedthatshe’soutofmysystem.Unlikelytopan

outthewayIimagine.

Soweeatdinner.Shetalks,scarfsthatsandwichdownlikeachamp,andIlistentoastoryabout

howparty-guyMatthewtriedtohitonherallweekasshelaughs.

“Idon’tfindthatfunny,”Isay,finishingoffmysandwich.
“Iknow,”shesays.“You’rethejealoustype.Iwasjustmakingsureyou’vestillgotapulse,since

you’resoquiet.”

“Hmm,”Isay,lookingdownatmyphonetocheckthesecuritycamerasinfrontofthehouseon

mypersonalapp.“Lookslikethecopsaregone,soIthinkthat’syourcue.”

“You’rekickingmeout?Really?”

“I’mnotintoyou,kid.”
“Kid?Please.Comeon.I’mtwenty-three.”
“I’mthirty-one.I’mprettysurewe’renotafterthesamething.Especiallyafterthatfreakadmission

thatwe’resoulmates.Thereisnohappilyeverafterinmyfuture,Iassureyou.”

“Why?Becauseyoudon’tdeserveone?”
“Shit.You’regonnapsychoanalyzeme?Howaboutwestartwithyou?You’reacrazystalker.And

I’mnotinterestedinyourfetishobsessionwithMr.Mysterious.I’mjustnotinterested.”

Shelicksmayonnaiseoffherfingers,crumplesupthesandwichpaperandstuffsitbackintothe

brownbag.“Ithinkyouare.Ithinkyou’reintriguedwithmystory.”

“Yourlies,youmean.”
“Hey,look,ifyou’regiventhenameCinderellaatbirthyoumakethemostofit.SoIliketoactmy

storiesout.What’stheharm?”

“You’regonnagotoprisonforhacking.”
“You’repressingcharges?”Shelaughs,likethisiswaymorecrazythanherbehavior.
“Icould.”
“Youwon’t.”Shegetsup,grabsthepaperfrommysandwich,stuffsitinsidethebrownbag,then

walksintothekitchenandthrowsitaway.

“Whatdoyouwant?”
“Anightwithyou.”
“Sex?”Ilaughsoloud,shestartles.“You’restalkingmesoI’llfuckyou?”
Sheshrugs,andmyeyestrackthosehugetitsasshedoesthat.“Isthatsuchabadidea?”
Bothherhandsgobehindherback.Herfingersfumblearoundforasecond,andthebikinitop

fallsforward,slimstringshangingdowneachsideofherbreasts.Shereachesaroundbehindher
neckandafewmomentslater,thetopdropstothefloor.

Iwatchhersilently,thengetup,walktothestairsandgoup.Iturninthehallwaytoseewhatshe

doesnext.

Sheclimbsthestepstowardsme.Slowly.Likeshe’safraidImightspookandshe’llhavetochase

medown.

ButIdon’tspook.
ThisiswhatIwanted,right?SincethefirsttimeIsawheratmydoorwiththebrownpaperbag.
Whenshereachesthetopofthestairsshestartsuntyingthestringsofherbottoms.Onehandon

eachhipuntiltheyfalltothefloor.

Andshejuststandsthere.Nakedforme.Somespotlightfromoutsidefilteringinjustenoughfor

metoseethedarkoutlineofhernipplesandtheseductivecurveofherhips.

“Whatdoyouwanttodonow,Mr.Mysterious?Keepplayingthegame?Orgiveinandwin?”
Ipicturemymouthonthosenipples,mypalmswrappedaroundtheswellofherbreasts.Shebites

herliplikeshe’snervous,butcatchesherselfandstandsstill.Notmoving.Nohesitation,orshyness,
oruncertainty.

“HelooksatmelikeI’msustenance.”
“What?”
“Hisfacenothingbutconfusionandlust.”
“Seriously?It’sstorytimeagain?”
“Hewantsme,Iknowhedoes.Heseesallofmerightnow,butit’snotenough.”
“Stopit,”Isay.“Youhackedintomyfuckingcalendar.”
“I’matadobsessedwithyou,sorry.”
“Whatdoyouwant?”
“Thesamethingyoudo.”

“Tofuckyousenselessandthenleavetownandforgetiteverhappened?”
Sheshrugs.“Ifthat’swhatyouwant.ButIhavesomanybetterideas.”
“Likewhat?”
“Don’tyouthinkweshouldwaituntilafterwardtotalkaboutit?”
“Afterwhat?”
“Afteryoufuckmesenselessandwefallasleepineachother ’sarms.”
“IfIfuckyousenselessyouwon’tlikewhatcomesafter.”
“I’mabiggirl,Mr.Vance.IknowwhatI’mgettinginto.”
“Idon’tthinkyoudo.”
“Arewegonnastandheretalkingallnight?”Sheslipsahandbetweenherlegs,herfingersmoving

insmallcirclesoverherclit.“OrwouldyouliketoseehowreadyIamtotakethistothenextlevel?”

Mydickgrowsdespiteallthewarningbellsgoingoffinmymind.Andmyhandfindsmythick

shaftthroughmyshorts,automaticallyfistingitasshewatches.

“Letmehelpyouwiththat,”shesays,walkingforwarduntilshe’srightinfrontofme.Herhead

turnsupandIcatchtheblueofhereyesinthatelusivelightfromsomewhereoutside.Shecoversmy
handwithhers,andthenherfingersareunbuttoningmyshortsandpullingoutmycock.

ShesmilesasshedropstoherkneesandIcan’tstopmyhandsfromfistingherhairandgivingita

tug.

Moansfrombothofusasshetakesmeinhermouth.Myheadfallsback,herstiltsup.Eyesonme,

andonlyme.

Iwanttodrowninthoseeyes.Theyaretheoceanoutside.Theyarethepowerofthewavesandthe

stingofthesalt.

“Ihopewedon’tregretthisinthemorning,”Imanagetomumble.
Sheleansback,lettingmycockfallfromhermouth,hereyesneverleavingmine.“Ihopewedo.”

ChapterSeven-Cindy

“What’sthatmean?”Paxtonasks.
“Shh,”Isay,puttinghishardcockbackinmymouth.Ilickhistipandthenrunmytongueupand

downhisshaftuntilallthoughtsabouttomorrowaresafelytuckedawayinsomeunknown,forgotten
place.

Hemoansandgivesmytangledhairinhisfistafirmyank,signalingformetostand.
“Tiredofmealready,Detective?”
“Detective?”Hestareshardatme,thosedarkeyesofhispuresteel.Iknowwhatheis.Iknowwhat

hedoes.Iknowwhathe'sdone.ButIdon’tcare.Thewayhe’slookingatmerightnowwipesallthose
thingsaway.Besides,I’mnostrangertotheunderworld.I’mnotsomeinnocentgirl.Itmightappear
thatwayontheoutside,whatwithmypresumablyperfectlifeontheShrikeRanchoutsideFort
Collins,Colorado.Mychildhoodwasfilledwithridinglessonsandballet.IwontheStJoseph’s
spellingbeefouryearsinarow.IwasanhonorrollstudentthemomentIsteppedintohighschool.

ButnoneofthosethingsarewhoIamnow.TheyarejustwhereIcamefrom.Andseeingmefrom

theoutsideisnothinglikeknowingmeontheinside.

“Detective,”Isayagain.“Youlikefindthingsoutaboutpeople,right?Itfitsyou.Likeitfitsme.”
Paxtonisstilllookingatmewiththatcoldglare.Likehelovesandhatesmeatthesametime.

“You’renotstayingthenight.”

Ishrug.“WhywouldI?”
“I’mjusttryingtobecrystalclearwithyou…Cinderella.Andbeforethisgoesanyfurther,I’m

gonnaneedabackgroundcheck.”

“What?”Ilaugh,myhandstillabsentlypumpinghiscock.
“Backgroundcheck,Sugar.”Herepeatsitwithmoreconviction.“YoucansuckmycockwhileI

runabackgroundcheckonyou.Andifyoudecline,there’sthefuckingdoor,sweetheart.”

Imakeapoutyface.It’srealtoo.“Youdon’ttrustme.”
“Notevenalittle.”
“YouthinkI’mhidingsomething.”
“We’reallhidingsomething.Soit’snobigdeal.Ijustwanttoknowwhatthatsomethingisgoing

forward.”

Iplacemylipsonthetipofhiscock,puckerthem,andgivehimasweetkiss.“Goaheadthen.

Checkmeout.I’mreal.”

Heplacesbothhandsonmyshouldersandstepsaway.Islidedownontomybuttandwatchhim

walkdownthestairsandthencomebackaminutelaterwithalaptop.Hebeckonsmewithafinger
andpassesmeinthehallway,takesaseatonthebed,openshislegs,andplacestheopenlaptopoffto
hisrightside.

“Youcanstayandwatchifyouwant.Ifyou’reconfidentIwon’tfindanythinginteresting.Youcan

suckmydickwhileIrunyournameandwe’lljustpretendlikethislittleinterludeneverhappened
onceI’mfinished.”Hestops,trainingthatglareonmeoncemore.“ButifyouthinkI’llfind
something,even,”hesays,holdinghisthumbandpointerfingeraminusculedistanceapart,
“somethingverysmall,thenI’dadviseyoutoleavenow.BecauseIdon’tdobusinesswithliars.”

“Sothisisbusiness?”Ismile.

Hedoesn’t.“Everythingisbusiness.”
Ithinkaboutthisforamoment.Whatwillhesaywhenhereallydoesfindoutthetruth?ButI

decidethat’saproblemforanotherday.He’snotgoingtofindanythingrightnow.Notrunningthe
nameCinderellaVaughn.Ialwaysknewhe’dcheck.I’veplannedforthismomentverythoroughly.
He’llfindeverythinghe’slookingfor…andIwillstayCinderellaVaughninhisminduntilhegets
suspiciousandputsallmyliestogether.

Butbythattimehe’llbehopelesslyinlovewithme.Soitwon’tmatterwhoIreallyam.
Hewillfightforus.
“I’llstay,”Isay,crossingthedistancebetweenusandtakingaseatbetweenhislegs.Hiscockhas

softenedslightly,butwhenIwrapmyhandsaroundhimagain,thetipofmytonguedoingaseductive
danceacrossthetipofhishead,itjumpsbacktoattention.

HestartstypingasItrytorelaxandenjoythemoment.
IhaveMr.Mysteriousinthepalmofmyhand.Ihavehisdickinmymouthandoncethislittle

expectedformalityisover,I’llbeinhisbed.

Idon’teverexpecttoleavethatbed.Figurativelyspeaking.OnceMr.PaxtonVancegetsatasteof

me,hewillneverwantanyoneelse.

“Wheredidyougrowup?”heasks,pullingmebackfrommyfuture.
“Colorado,”Isay.Ican’tlieaboutthat.TherearemanyVaughnsinthisworld,buttheVaughn

identityI’veattachedthisnametoallovertheinternethappenstobewithmycousins.Andtheylivein
Colorado.

“Hmmm,”Paxsays.
“Hmmm,”Imoanback,makingmythroatvibrateasIsuckonhiscock.
“Jesus,”hesays,leaningbackalittle,makinghisdickfalloutofmymouth.
“Youdon’tlikeit?”Iask,blinkingupathiminnocently.
“Justgivemeasecond.”Hegoesbacktotyping.“IhaveafewfriendsinFortCollins.Youever

heardofShrikeBikes?”

“No,”Ilie.“ShouldIhave?”
“Beforeyourtime,maybe,”Paxsays,absently.
IamShrikeBikes.BabyShrike,that’sme.It’sjusttoofunnynottolaugh.ButIholditinbecause

themomentisprecarious.

“YouwenttoCatholicschool?”Asnortcomesoutwiththequestion.
“Myparentsareverytraditional.”
“Sayshereyourfatherownsatattooshop.Doesn’tsoundverytraditionaltome.”
JesusChrist.Hegotthatinfofast.“Haven’tyoueverheardofthoseJesusbikers?”
“Yourdad’saJesusbiker?”Paxlooksdownhisnoseatme,likeI’mtotallyfullofshit.
“Callhimupandaskhim,”Isaycoolly.
“Hmmm,”Paxsays,lookingbackathisscreen.
I’msureifhe’sfoundapictureofmyUncleVichewon’tbedoinganythingasstupidascalling

himonthephone.He’sascarymotherfucker.Alltattedupfrombackintheday.Stillpartownerof
SickBoyzInc.,mymother ’sfamily-runtattooshop.

Paxclosesthelaptopandsetsitonthenightstand.
“Satisfied?”Iasksweetly.
“No,princess—”
“Don’tcallmeprincess.Itoldyou,thatnicknamebelongstomyoldersister.”
“Aurora?”
“Wecallher…”IstopmyselfjustintimefromsayingRory,whichhewillsurelyrecognizefrom

hisvisitstomyparents’farmwithOliveroverthepastfewyears,andrealizeIfellintoatrap.Hehas

mysister ’sname.Myrealsister.Andofcourse,noneofmycousinsarenamedAurora.

“Isthethirddegreeoverthen?”Iask,hopingtoGodhewon’topenthatlaptopbackupandgo

lookingforanAuroraVaughn.Thatwouldbebad.Very,verybad.BecauseRory’smiddlename
actuallyisVaughnandshewillpoprightup,onlyherlastnamewillbeShrikeandmywholeplan
willgo—

“Whatdotheycallyouthen?Athome?”
“Sugar,”Isay,breathingdeeplytostopmypanic.“TheycallmeSugar…justlikeyoudid.”They

callmeBabyShrike.ButIcan’ttellhimthat,nowcanI?Fuck.HowdidIgethere?Iliterallyhadhis
dickinmymouthandnowI’mabouttoblowmyowndamncoverwiththisstupidmistake.

“Sugarwhat?”Paxasks.“YousoundedliketherewassomethingelseattheendofSugar.Sugar

what?”

“Sugar…”AndbeforeIcanstopmyself,Iblurtout…“Cookie.”
“Cookie?”Helaughs.
Oh,fuck.Ineedtostoptalking.
“Yeah,”hesays,threadinghisfingersthroughmylongblackhair.“Yeah,Icanseeit,actually.You

smelllikeafuckingbakery.SugarCookieitis,then.”Heleansdowntokissmeonthelips.

Ilookupathim,myeyesfilledwith…relief,I’msure.AndI’msurehecantell.I’mabsolutely

surehe’sgoingtocallmeonthis.I’mpositivethathe’sbeendigginginOliver ’sfamilyhistoryand
somewherealongthelinehe’sheardofCinderella,eventhoughIhaven’tletmyparentscallmemy
givennamesinceIwastwelve.

“SugarCookie,”Paxtonsays,whisperingintomymouth.
“Yes,”Isqueakout,allsortsofliesfloodingmymindasItrytopickjusttherightonetokeepthis

rusegoing.

“Mycockisgettingcold,”hebreathes.“Ithinkyoubetterwrapyoursweetlittlemoutharoundit

andkeepitwarm.”

Iexhalelongandsoftasheguidesmyheadbacktohiswaitingdick.AndthenIrelax,takehimin

mypalms,andlickhimlikehe’sthebestthingI’veevertasted.

Hishandsleavemyhairandmyeyestrackthemasheliftshisshirtoverhisheadandtossesit

aside.Themusclesinhischestarecutangles,hardanddeepenoughtocastshadowsinthedimlight
leakingthroughfromoutside.MyeyestracethecurveofhisshouldersasItakehimin,mytongue
pressingagainsthislong,thickshaft.Hecloseshiseyesforamoment,butopensthembackupalmost
immediately.

“Fuck,”hesays.“You’redamnsweetandpretty,Cinderella.Ibetyouexplode,don’tyou?Ibetyou

comelikeasuperstar.”

Myfingersarebetweenmylegs,rubbinglittlecirclesagainstthesensitivefoldsofmypussy.
“Ibetyouscream,too.Don’tyou?”
“Mmmmmm,”Imoanagainsthisskin.ButbeforeIevenstophumming,he’spulledmeupand

thrownmefacefirstdownonthebed.Isquealwithequalpartsdelightandshock.

Fuckit.MaybeIdidmessup,butfuckit.I’mgoingtoenjoymyfirsttimewithPaxtonVance.I’ve

beenworkingtowardsthisnightforyears.I’vebeenfantasizingabouthimsinceIwasthirteenyears
old.EverythingI’vedonesinceIfirstlaideyesonhiminthatnewspaperarticlewaswiththismoment
inmind.

Idon’tcarewhathefindsouttomorrow.Idon’tcareifhe’spissedoff.Hewillneverbeableto

walkawayfromme.Hewillneverforgetthisnight.

PaxtonVancewillbethinkingaboutthedayCindyShrikewalkedintohislife’tilldeathdouspart.

NomatterwhatIdo,nomatterwhathefindsout,wearemeanttobetogether.

NowIjustneedtoconvincehimofthatlittlefact.

“Ilikeitontop,”Isay.
“Toobad,Sugar.IlikeyoufacedownsoIcanplaywithyourassholewhileIfuckyoufrom

behind.ButmaybelaterI’llletyourideme.Ifyou’regood.Ifyouscreamforme.Ifyoucomeatjust
therighttime.”

Andthenhethrustsinsideme.Sohard,Islideforwardonthebed.SodeepIgaspwiththesharp

pain.Herestshischestonmybackandwhispersinmyear.“Yourpussywillgetusedtomysizesoon
enough,Cinderella.Butdon’tworry,I’llgoeasyonyoutonightsincewe’reonthemaidenvoyage.”

ChapterEight-Paxton

Cinderella’slipspullbackinasmileasshelooksatmeoverhershoulder.Herhipsthrust

backwards,urgingmetotakeher,tokeepgoing.IgrabherhairandpullasIeaseaway,liftingmy
weightoffherback.Herperfectlytannedskinisalreadydottedwithlittlebeadsofsweat.

“Don’tgotooeasyonme,Pax.I’mnotasfragileasyouthink.Andyourcockistheperfectsize.

Youwon’thearmecomplainaboutthat.”

“Youlittleslut,”Isay,lettinggoofherhairsoIcangrabherhips.Islamherassbackintomy

cock,ourskin-on-skincontactechoingofftheceilinglikeaseriesofslapsasIpoundherhard,then
harder.Shemoans,herhandsreachinguptograbthewhitecottonduvet,andthentheybecomefists.
Likeshe’sdesperatetoholdontosomething.

Iletgoofonehip,reachingunderhertofindherpussy,andbegintostrum.Hermoansgetlouder

andlouderasIincreasethefrictiononhersensitivespot.Andjustasherbackisarching,Istop.

“No,youasshole!”shewhines.
Butthere’snoneedforhertoworryaboutmeleavingherhanging.Iflipheroveronherback,

spreadherlegswide,andcrawlbetweenthem.Myhandsflattenagainstthefoldsofherpussy,pulling
themslightlyapart…justenoughformetoslipmytongueinsideandlick.

Herspinearchesandherbackcomesoffthebed.Iholdherinplaceatherhipswithbothhands,

fightingher,notlettingherescapemyswiftlyflickingtongue.

“Oh,shit!”shecries.“Shit!”Shewrithesunderthepressureofmypunishinglips.Herlegsbeginto

kick,catchingashoulderandakidneyinquicksuccession.

“Oh,myGod!Oh,myGod!”
“Bestill,”Imurmurintoherwetfolds.
“Ican’t,Pax.Oh,myGod.Justmakeme—”
Shescreams.Herkickinggoeswild,knockingmeinthehead.I’dlaugh,becauseit’ssofucking

cute.Butherhandsclampdownonmyshouldersand—

“Aww,fuck!”Iyell,ashernailsdrawblood.“Jesus.”
Shestills,handsoverherheartasshebreathesandpantsherwaythroughthelingering

contractionsofherorgasm.Eachtimeawavehitsher,sheliftsherhipsupandItaketheopportunity
tokissherswollenclit.

“Ihavenever—”
“Shh,”Isay.“I’mnotinterestedinwhatyouhaveandhavenotdonewithanyonebutme.Now,bea

goodlittlecookieandclimbontop,Cinderella.It’stimetogototheball.”

She’sstillbreathingheavyasshewigglesherselfupright,usingmyoutstretchedhandtosteady

herself.Thensheslidesherlegovertopofmeandplantsherhandsfirmlyonmychest.Mycockis
throbbingwithanticipation.Shehasherrelieffromthebuild-up,butI’vebarelystarted.

“Justlieforward,”Isay,pullingherfaceintomyneck.“I’lldotherest.”
Shedoesasshe’stold.Ilikethissideofher.Theobedientside.
Hermouthseeksouttheskinjustbelowmyearandshekissesmelikewe’vebeenloversfor

eternity.Iclosemyeyesforamomentandenjoythisnewfeeling.There’ssomethingveryintimate
andsexyinthatlittlemove.

Herkissbecomesanip,becomesabite,andit’son.

Iwrapmyarmsaroundherback,holdinghersotightlytomychest,she’sgaspingforair,andI

poundherfrombelow.Myballsslappingupagainstherass,herhugebreastssmashedagainstmy
chest.Weareslickwithlust,andcarnaldesire,andthesweetsweatyouonlygetfromlovemaking.

Icomeinsideher—forgettingeverythingIknowaboutsafesex,andunwantedbabies—becausein

thatmomentIamgone,man.Iaminsomeeroticfuckingheavenofmyowncreationwiththislittle
bombshellofagirlwhoweaseledherwayintomylifewithsandwiches,andjinglingboots,andthat
stupidlittlepowder-blueVWbug.

Iamgone.


Later,whensheissleepingbesidemeandIamlookingdownonherhottwenty-somethingbody…

Irealizesomething.

She’sanaturalblonde.
Myhandslipsbetweenherlegs,elicitingasweetmoanfromherlipsasIplaywithherpussy.AndI

can’tstopmyself.Ican’tstopevenifIwantto,andIdon’t.Ihelpmyselftomore,andmoreandmore
asIdipmyfacebetweenherlegsandwonder—asshebeginstowritheagain—whatshemightlook
likeifallthatjet-blackdyewaswashedoutofherhair.

“Huh,”Ilaughtomyself,hourslater,whenthesuniscomingupandmysemi-wakingdreamsare

filledwithvisionsofablondeprincesswearingabluedress.

“What?”sheaskslazily,anglingherbodyintothecurveofminelikeweweremadethisway.
“You’redefinitelythebombshellversionofaDisneyprincess.”
Ifeelhersmileagainstmyshoulder.
Andthenitallfadesaway.



Istumbleoutofbed,searchingformyringingphone.Cinderellaisstillsleeping,butallthe

movementandthedamnringingmakesherturnoverandexposeherbreaststome.

Jesusfuck.Theyarespectacular.Tightnipplesinthemiddleofdarkpinkcirclesofpeakedskin.

Theyfallslightlytotheside,buttheyaresobigtheydon’tlosetheirshape,butinsteadmakeperfect
moundsontopofherchest.

Mymouthwantsnothingmorethantotaketheminandsuckuntilshe’sbeggingmetofuckher

again.

Theringingstops,andthesilencejoltsmebacktorealityuntilasharpdingsignalsavoicemail.
Iplacemyheadinmyhands,rubmyhandsdownmyscratchyface,thengetupandwalktothe

bathroomtotakeapiss.WhenI’mdone,myphoneisringingagainandImanagetotabtheaccept
buttonintimetosavemyselfanothervoicemailasIpullonapairofcut-offsweats.

“Yeah,”Igroan.
“Mr.Vance,”thevoiceonthelinesays.
“Whoisthis?”UsuallyI’mgoodwithvoices.Icanrememberavoiceforever.ButI’mdistracted

rightnow,andIdon’tfeellikerackingmybrainwhenasimplequestiongetsthejobdonejustas
easily.

“LiamHenry.Ihiredyoutohelpmysonafewyearsback.”
StevenHenry.Yeah,Irememberthatstupidlittlefuck.“WhatcanIdoforyou,Mr.Henry?”
“Ithinkthebetterquestionis,whatcanIdoforyou?”
“OK,”Isay,walkingdownthestairstotakethisconversationtothekitchen.“Shoot.Tellme.I’m

allfuckingears,man.”

“Hmmm,”Henrysays,likehehatesmygutsbuthastotalktomebecauseheneedssomething.I

don’ttakethatpersonally.Iexpecteveryonetohatemyguts.Itsucksbeingnicetoanassholelikeme.
EspeciallywhenIholdallyourdirtylittlesecrets.“Ithinkthiscallsforapersonalmeeting.Howsoon
canyoubeinMiami?”

Ithinkofmylittlebombshellupstairsandsmile.“Aweek?MaybetwoifIloseinterestinwhatI’m

doinghere.ButIhavetobehonest,Henry,that’snotlookinggood.”

“Thisisajob,Mr.Vance.Areyou,orareyounot,aprofessional?”
“Averybusyoneatthemoment.IfwehavethisoutoverthephoneI’llgetyourproblemsorted

twiceasfast.Howaboutthat?”

“No,”hesayssternly.“Inperson.”
“OK,well,it’sgonnabeaweek,maybetwo—”
“I’llcometoyou.”
“Fantastic.HowaboutMondayat—”
“HowabouttodayatsixPM?”
“Whattimeisitnow?”
“Noon.”
Isigh.Well,Icanfuckheroncemore,thenwecantakeashowerandfuckagain,thentakeanap.“I

guessthat’llwork.Where—”

“I’llbeatyourhouse.”
Igetthehang-upbeepsandthelinegoesdead.SoIjuststareatitforafewsecondsandthentossit

overontothecouchasIgosearchingforthecoffeeImostdefinitelyneed.

“Whowasthat?”mydelectablelittlebakerygirlasks,comingdownthestairsrubbingsleepfrom

hereyes.She’swearingahalf-buttoneddressshirtshemust’vepulledoutofmycloset.

Herlegs,man.IknowI’veseentheminskirts,andshorts,andbikinibottomsplentyoftimes.But

comingoutfromunderthatdressshirt.Fuck.Sexydoesn’tevencoverhowthatshitlooks.

“Justwork,”Isay,fillingthecoffeepotwithwater.
“You’releavingmetodayforwork?”Cinderellapouts.“OnSaturday?”
“Nah,”Isay,smiling.Butwithmybacktoher,soshecan’tsee.IfeellikeIhaveagirlfriendallof

asudden.Anditdoesn’tfeellikeabadthing.“He’scomingheretonight.Sounlessyou’vegotta
work,wecanspendthewholedaytogether.”

“Idon’thavetowork,”shesays.
Istartthecoffeemakerandturntofaceher.Fuck.Sheisfuntolookat.“Sowhat’sthestorywith

that?Thesubshop?Youboughtit”—it’scrazy,buteverythingaboutheriscrazy—“tostalkme?”

Anothershrug.“Isitcreepy?”
“Depends,Iguess.Whyareyousointerested?Areyousomefemmefataleouttoscrewmeup?

Or…”God,thesmileonmyface.

“Or?”sheprods.
“OrthedistractionI’vebeenwaitingfor.”Iexhale.Unsurewhatthosewordsmean.Knowingfull

wellwhatthosewordsmean.

Cinderellawalkstowardsme,hermouthnotsmiling,notfrowning.Justflat.Andmyhonestyfeels

likeamistakeallofasudden.“Whatdoesthatmean?”sheasks,takingmyhandinhersandplacing
mypalmagainsthercheek.She’swarmandhercheeksareflushedpink.Herlipsgentlybrushmy
fingertipsandthatlittleredflagthatItriedtoputawaylastnightisflyingagain.“Whatkindof
distractiondoyouneed?”

What’swrongwithme?
That’saloadedquestion.
“I’mjust…”Ican’tstoplookingathermouth.Iwanttokissit.AndeventhoughIdon’tconsider

myselftobeanimpulsiveperson,Idokissit.Ileandown,takeherfaceinbothhands,andit’sthe
gentlest,thesoftest,thesincerestkissI’veeverhad.“Tired,”Isay,practicallywhispering.“I’mtired
ofthinkingaboutthings.Offixingthings.I’mtiredofallofit.Iboughtthesetwoislandsinthe
ExumaCaysandI’vebeenfixingthemup,youknow?Oneissortashitty.JustasmallhouseandI
haven’tdonemuchtoit.Buttheotheroneisperfect.Iremodeleditall.Kitchen,bathrooms,
everything.”

“Twoislands…”shesays,lettinghersentencedropoff.Then,“Whydoyouneedtwo?”
“I…”Butit’ssuchanimportantquestion.Theanswerissotelling,itmakesmestop.
“Pax?”sheasks.“Whydoyouneedtwoislands?”
AndeventhoughI’veneverarticulatedtheanswer,Iknowtheanswer.“Thebackupplan,right?I

alwayshaveabackupplan.IboughtthelittleonefirstbutthenIrealizeditwasn’twhatIneeded.Too
small,tooinsignificant.Tooeasilywashedawayinabigstorm.SoIgotanotheronenearby.”

“Justincase?”
Ibumpmyforeheadintohersandnod.“Justincase.”
“Itsoundsalittlelikerunningaway,”shewhispers.
“Callitwhateveryouwant,Iguess.Ijustliketohaveoptions.”
“Runningfromthepast?Doyoureallyneedtorun?”
Ithinkaboutthisforasecond.Yesandno.“No,Idon’t.ButIwantto.Iwanttoleaveeverything—

everyone—behind.Stopworkingandjustdonothingforawhile.Sitonabeach.Catchfishoffaboat
inthemiddleofnowhere.Nocellphone,noemail,noproblems.”

“Itdoesn’tsoundveryfun.Theleavingeveryonebehindpart.Youhavefriendsandfamily.

Wouldn’tyoumissthem?”

“No,”Isay,pullingaway,steppingback.“Notreally.Theywouldn’tmissmeeither,sowhocares.”
“Hmmm,”Cinderellasays,side-steppingmeandwalkingovertothecoffeepot.Shereachesup

andopensacupboard,pullingoutacoffeemuglikeshe’shelpedherselftocoffeeinmyhousea
milliontimes.

Itremindsmeof…me.InNolan’shouses.ThewayIhelpmyselftohisthingswhenI’mthere.The

wayIknowallhishousesintimately,eventheonesIhavenorighttoclaim.BecauseIusethem
wheneverhe’snotthere.Hehasalmostasmanyhousesasme,andyoucanonlystayinoneatatime.

She’sbeeninherebefore.Inmyhouse.Withoutme.
Thisshouldbethelaststraw.ThisshouldbethepartwhereIfreakthefuckoutanddraghertothe

frontdoor,slammingitinherfaceafterpushingheroutside.ThisshouldbethepartwhereIgrabmy
thingsandwalkaway,leavingherbehind.

She’slyingaboutalotofthings.I’mnotsureanythingshetoldmewasthetruth,ifI’mbeing

honestwithmyself.Inmylineofwork,yougottarelyoninstinctandeveryinstinctIhaveabout
CinderellaVaughnisscreaminglies…lies…lies.Andallitwouldtakeisonemoresearch.One
morethoroughsearchwhenIdon’thaveherlookingovermyshoulderorsuckingmydickto
distraction,andI’dfigureoutwhatthelieswere.

Sowhat’sstoppingmefromgettingthattruth?
ThisisthepartI’msuddenlyhavingproblemswith.It’slike…it’salmostlike…I’drathernot

know.Maybeignoranceisbliss?Maybehavingaccesstowhateveryouneed,wheneveryouneedit,
isn’tallit’scrackeduptobe?

Iwatchherpourhercoffee.Butthensheturns,withoutaddingsugarormilk,andhandsittome.
“Here,”shesays.“Let’ssitandbestilltogetherforalittlebit.I’dliketohearmoreaboutyour

escapeplans,ifthat’sOK.JustincaseyouboltandIhavetogoafteryou.”

Itakethemugandsetitontheislandcountertop.“IfI…dobolt,you’llneverfindme.”
“SoIguessyoubetternotdothat,Mr.Mysterious.Oryoumightmissoutonthechanceofa

lifetime.”

Ismileandturnthequestionstoher.“Whataboutyou?Youdon’tcomeoffasthemostgrounded

person.”

“Oh,God.”Shelaughs,reachingfortheteapotandfillingitwithwater.Shesetsitonthestoveand

turnsuptheflame,thenturnstofaceme.Leansherhandsonthecounterbehindher.Smiles.“Noone
haseverdaredtocallmegrounded.I’masflightyastheycome.Andnotintheditzyblondeway,
either.”Shestops,looksawayquickly,thencatcheshermistakeandlooksmeintheeyesagain.
Recovered.Sheisanaturalblonde.Thatissomethingshe’shidingforsure.

“Isthatthereasonthecarpetdoesn’tmatchthedrapes?”Iask,takingasipofmyblackcoffeeasI

trytohidemysmile.

“Ididn’tthinkyounoticed.”
“It’smyjobtonotice,Sugar.”
Shedrawsinabreaththroughherteethatthenickname.“Ithinkwemightbethetwomost

secretivepeopleontheplanetrightnow,Mr.Brown.”

“Hmm,”Isay,wantingtowinceatthename,butdeservingit.ItwastheoneIgavetothesubshop,

afterall.

“Dowewanttosharethesesecrets?”Iask.
Sheshakesherheadslowly.“Idon’tthinkso.Notyet.”
“Sowe’regoingtoignorealltheredflagsandwarningbells?”
“Doyouhaveabetteridea?”
HowdidIgetsuckedintothisconversation?WhyamIstillparticipatinginit?Whatishappening?

InsideI’mscreaming,wavingmyarmsaroundlikethatrobotonthatold-assTVshow.Warning,
warning,warning.ButoutsideI’mascoolastheycome.“Notreally,”Isay.

“Well,meeither.I’msurethey’regonnacomeouteventually.Andbythattimewe’llhaveitall

figuredout.”

“Willwe?”
Shenods.“Wewill.”
Whentheteapotwhistlesshemakesherselfacupandwegoouttothebeachpatioandlienextto

eachotherontopofagiantdoubleloungechairandtakeinwhat’sleftofthesummersun.She’sstill
wearingnothingbutmydressshirtandherbikinibottoms.I’mstillwearingnothingbutmycut-off
sweatshorts.Andthebeachisfilledwithpeople,andkids,andgamesofvolleyballandsurfers.

Butwepaynoattentiontoanyofit.

ChapterNine-Cindy

It’sanafternoonofsilenceandwhateverthewordisfornon-silence.It’snotthatwe’requiet,

becausenothingaboutusisquiet.Andit’snotlikewedon’ttalk,becauseweneverseemtostop
talking.Butwe’resilentinallthewaysthatmatter.Thepastisclosedupandputaway.Thefutureisn’t
evenhereyet,sothereisnoreasonablewayforittointerfere.

Hecalmsmethough.Tethersmetothegroundlikeoneoftheweightsdrapingoverthesideof

thosegianthotairballoons.Allmywanderlusttendenciesseemtodisappearunderhisscrutiny.He
looksatmelikeheknowsme.Butofcourse,hedoesn’t,sinceI’vetoldsomanylies,evenI’mhaving
troubleknowingwhoIam.

Wegoinsideafterafewhoursofmeaninglessconversationandhavesexonthekitchencounter.

It’sslowerthistime.Isitthere,mylegswrappedaroundhismiddleashekissesmyneckandmakes
mecome.

Wetakeashowerandhefucksmeagain,thistimepressedupagainstthecoldtilewall.Afterward,

wenibbleoncrackersandcheeseandaplateofcucumbershesliced,sincehisfridgedoesn’thave
muchinthewayoffood.AndIcanseehimwatchingtheclock,wantingmetoleavebeforehis
businessarrives,andnotwantingtotellmetoleavesohecandobusiness.

SoIwomanupanddotherightthing.
“I’mgoingtogohomeandgetcleanedup.”AllIhaveinthewayofclothingisthebikiniIcame

herein,soI’mputtingthetopbackoninthemasterbedroomwhenImakethisannouncement.

“Wherewillyougoafterthat?”heasks.
“Wherewillyougo?”
Igetashrug.“I’mnotsureyet.Imightneedtoleaveforthisjob.”
“I’dhopeyou’dtakemewithyou,since,youknow,Iworkforyounow.”
Webothsmileatthat.
“Thedetectivesmiles,”Isay.“Likethethoughtescapedhim.Butnowthatit’sback,itwaslikeit

neverleft.”

“That’sweird,youknow.Narratingshitlikethat.Makingusintosomekindofstory.”
“Idon’tcare.”
“Ithinkthat’swhyIlikeyou.”
“Thecarelesspart?”Iask,wonderinghowwegotthiswayovernight.Wonderingifit’sagoodor

badsignthatwefellintoeachother ’sarmslikeoldfriendsoroldlovers.

“Yeah,”hesays,leaningagainstthewallinfrontofthestairsthatleaddowntothelivingroom.

“No,”hecorrects.“Notcareless.Careful,butuncaring.”

“Wearetwoofthemostunsolvableriddlesever,Mr.Vance.”
“IthinkIlikethataboutus,MissVaughn.”
“Well,”Isay.“Iknowwheretofindyou.”
“Doyou?”
Inod.“Ido.Thanksforagreattime,Pax.I’llseeyoulater.”
IgodownthestepsandI’mjustabouttoturntowardsthepoolandwalktothefronthousewhenhe

callsoutafterme.

“Cinderella?”

“Cindy,”Isay,stoppingtolookupathim.“YoucanjustcallmeCindy.”
“Cindy.”Hesmiles.“Youdidn’tturnintoapumpkinlastnight.”
“No,”Isay,feelingsadandhappyatthesametime.“Imighthaveonsomeoneelse’sballgownat

themoment.ButI’mreal.Iswear.”

Iturnawayfeelingoff.IwalkafewhousesdowntowhereIparkedmycarlastnight,thehot

concretestingingmybarefeet,andgetin.Isitthereforafewseconds,ignoringthefactthatIcame
heretopartywithoneguyandwenthomewithanother.Idon’tfeelbadaboutit.Notatall.Icameto
MalibuforonethingandonethingonlyandthatwasMr.Mysterious.

Igothim.
Butnowwhat?Whattodowithhimistheonlythingonmymind.
IstartthecaranddriveuptothefrontgatesofMalibuColonyandtenminuteslaterI’mfivemiles

upPCHandturningintothebeach-sidecampground.Ipullintotheparkingspotnexttomycamper
andsitthereforaminute,sweatrollingdownmybackinthestiflingheatofthelateafternoon,and
watchtheminutestickoffonthedashboardclock.

Igetout,eventually,andmakemywayinside.Igrabapairofjeansandat-shirt,slipmyfeetinto

thesneakersIuseto…well,sneak,anddrivebacktoMalibuColony.There’snoparkingonthestreet,
soItakeupmyusualspotbyBuster ’sandjogdownintotheColonybywayofthepublicbeach
accesspath.I’mthreedoorsdownfromPaxton’shouse,sittingonthestreet-sideporchoftheplace
weusedtoescapethepartylastnight,whenasilverMercedesparksinfrontofPax’shouseandan
oldergentlemangetsout,looksaroundwitheithernervousnessorcaution,buttonshisdarkgraysuit
coat,walksuptothedoor,andringsthebell.

AfewsecondslaterhestepsoutofviewandIstartwalkinginthatdirection.
“Hey,”avoicecallsfrombehindme.
Shit.Iturnandsmileatoneofthepartyguys.Ican’tkeeptheirnamesstraight.Tyler,orMatthew,

orThomas.Oneofthemiscallingafterme.

“Oh,hey,”Isay,forcingmyfeetnottoshuffleinimpatience.I’mmissingpartofthatmeetingright

now.Ineedtogetridofthisguy.

“Whathappened—”
“Areyouhavinganotherpartytonight?”Iinterrupt.“Becauselastnightwasabust.”
“Sorryaboutthat,”hesays,asheepishsmileonhisface.“Yeah,sure.Wehavepartiesevery

weekend.Areyoucomingback?”

“Definitely,”Isay.
“Areyoudatingthatguyagain?”
“Itoldyoubefore…”Matthew.Ithinkhe’sMatthew.“We’vebeendatingforever.We’rejustoneof

thoseon-and-offkindofcouples.”

“Soyou’reonnow?”
Fuckingmenandtheirstupidjealousgene.“No.Hetookmetohisplacelastnightwhenthecops

came,butIleftimmediatelyandforgot…myearrings.Theniceones.Ineedthemback.That’sall.
WhattimeshouldIcomebytonight?Fortheparty?”

Helookslikehehasmorequestions.Maybehe’sevenobservantandknowsIwasn’twearing

earringslastnight.Butmyquestionstopsthatlineofthoughtandrefocusesitonsomethingunrelated
tothemysteriousmandownthestreet.

“Howaboutnine?”
“HowaboutI’llseeyouthen?”
HenodstowardsPax’shouse.“Wantmetogogetthoseearringsforyou?Soyoudon’thaveto

bother?”

“Igotit,thanks.”Igivehimalittlewaveashisbuddiesstartcallinghisnamefrominsidetheir

house.

Gobackinside,Ipray.Andmyluckholds,becausewhenIgettoPax’sfrontdoor,he’sgone.
AfewweeksagoIbrokeinandstolePaxton’shousekeys,hadacopymade,andthenreturned

them.SincethenI’vebeenmakingfrequentvisits.IslipthekeyinthedoorasquietlyasIcan,butI’m
confidenttheyareonthebeachsideofthehouse,sowayoutofearshot.AndthenIsneakinside.

Itiptoeinsidethefoyerandsoftlydownthestepsthatleadtothepool.
“Idon’tthinkso,”Paxsaysfromthelivingroom.Ifreeze,andrealizeI’vemissedsomething.Shit.

Probablysomethingimportant.

“Whynot?”thevisitorasks.
“BecauseIjustdon'tthinkhe’slikethat.He’snotthatkindofguy.”
“Idon’tthinkyouknowonesinglegrainoftruthaboutthatguy’slife.”
Islinkpastthetallpalmtrees,thenbackintoacornerjustontheothersideoftheentrancetothe

beachsideofthehouse.

“Soyou’vesaid,”Paxreplies.There’saclinkingoficeinglasses,likethey’rehavingdrinks.“So

you’vehintedovertheyears.Butyouknowwhat,Liam?Youneverdoanythingmorethanhint.”

“I’veneverhadreasonto.”Hepauses.“Untilnow.”
“Andwhat’schanged?”
“He’sbeen…doingthingsoutofcharacter.”
“Likewhat?”
“Like…”Butthepausethistimeisextended.
“Like?”Paxurges.
“Likenotpayinghisdebts.”
“Heowesyousomething?Sincewhen?”
“He’sowedmehiswholelife,Vance.LikeIsaid.Youhavenoideawhoheis.Diditeveroccurto

youthathemight’vebeentheguiltyone?”

AlaughfromPax.“No.”
“No?”
“Never.IalwaysthoughtNolanwasguilty.Heactedguiltyashell.Westonneveractedguilty.Little

thingslikerapechargesdon’tbotherpowerfulpeoplelikeWestonConrad,butevenso,he’snotthe
guiltyone.”

Mr.Corporate.They’retalkingaboutMr.Corporate.
“Thenwho?You?”
Moreiceclinkinginsideglasses.Apause.Then,“Saythatagain,oldman,andI’lldosomething

aboutit.”

Ahalfsnort,halflaughfromthisLiamguy.Likehefindsthatnotionridiculous.“Noneed.Idon’t

thinkitwasyou.Yourmotherdidn’traiseyouthatway.”

Whatthefuckisgoingonhere?
Theydefinitelyknoweachother.Butwhatisthisabout?
“No,”Paxtonsays.“Shedidn’t.”
“But,”Liamsays,“you’reonehalfCharlesVanceaswell.”Andthenlaughter.Likeuproarious

laughter.

Igetachillupmyspine.
“Hedidn’traiseme,asyouwellknow.”
“No.Heneverraisedanyofthem,didhe?”
“Youwannatellmewhyyou’rehere?”Paxsays,hisvoicedangerousnow.Likehe’soutof

patience.

Yes,please.I’mdyingtoknow.

“Itoldyou,”Liamsays.“IneedWestonConrad…takencareof.”
Paxissilentforsolong,Ichanceapeekaroundthecornerofthewall.
Shit.Islinkbackimmediately.Hewaslookingrightatme.Ipeekagainandhesmiles.Liam’sback

istome,sohedoesn’tseewhatPaxtonislookingat.“Whatexactlydoesthatentail?”

“Youjust…makehimdisappear.”
“AndhowdoyouproposeIdothat?”
“Trybait,Mr.Mysterious.Ihearit’syourfavoritemethod.”LiamstandsandIeasebackintomy

corner.“Sodowehaveadeal?Willtenmilliondollarserasethisridiculousbloodbondyouhave
withtherestofyouraccomplices?”

Accomplices?What?
“I’llthinkaboutit.Ijustgotacallnottwentyminutesagofromsomeoneelse,soIcan’tdo

anythinguntilthat’sover.Theypaidinadvance.”

“Well,I’mnotpayingyouinadvance.”
“ThenI’llbeintouch.AndletyouknowwhenI’mfree.”
“Don’tkeepmewaitingtoolong,”Liamsays.“Ifyousayno,I’lljustfindsomeoneelsetodoit.”
Andthenthere’sthesoundofexpensiveshoesonthehardwoodfloors.Theycometowardsme.I

freeze,notevenhalfhiddenbehindthethintrunkofaplantree,holdingmybreath,myeyestracking
themastheypass.

Paxdoesn’tlookatme—neitherdoesLiam—andtheycontinuepastthepoolandupthestairsinto

thestreetsideofthehouse.

Iboltoutofthecornerandgoupintothebeach-sidelivingroom,hopingthatLiamguydidn’t

decidetolookoverhisshoulderatthewrongmoment.

“Soyou’respyingonme?”
Iwhirlaround,surprisedPaxisbackheresofast.Hemust’vepracticallyshovedthatguyoutthe

door.“Whatthehellwasthatabout?”Ihavesomanyquestions.MyobsessionwithPaxtonneverhad
anythingtodowithmybrother,Oliver.ButtheyweretalkingabouttheMisters.Somethingtodowith
Mr.Corporate.Andifthere’soneMisterinvolved,thatmeansalltheMistersareinvolved.Including
mybrother.“YouweretalkingaboutMr.Corporate.”

“No,”Paxsays.“I’mtalkingaboutwhatyou’redoingsneakingintomyhouse,listeninginonmy

privatebusiness.I’vehurtpeopleverybadlyforfarlessserioustransgressions,Cindy.”

“We’repartners—”
“We’refuckbuddies.”
“Huh,”Isay,disgustedathischaracterizationoflastnight.“OK.Fine.We’refuckbuddiesand

partners.”

“Ididn’thireyou,MissVaughn.I’vebeenhumoringyou.Ithinkit’scute.AndIwantedtofuckyou.

Or…Idid.Untilyoustuckyournoseintothingsthatdon’tsmellgood.Noneofthisisyour
business.”

Istaysilent.Reconsidermyoptions.Paxisnotoneofthoseguyswhoallowshimselftobe

manipulatedveryeasily.Oneinklingthathe’sbeingplayedandheeitherwalksawayorstartsplaying
thegamewithme.ThereisnoinbetweenwithhimfromwhatIcansee.Hedoesthiswithevery
casualrelationshipI’vewatchedhimin.

Theyareallone-nightstandsorplayersinhisgame.
WhichamI?
Icouldtellhimthetruth—I’mOliver ’sbabysister—andeverythingwouldbefine.I’dbein,no

questionsasked.Someonehe’dprobablyconfidein.Trustimmediately.

ButI’mnotherebecauseofOliver.I’mhereforhim.AndifItoldhimwhoIwas,there’dbeno

chanceofeverbecominghisgirlfriend.Ever.

SoIplaytheonlycardIhave.
“Howaboutwesettlethiswith…agame?”

ChapterTen-Paxton

Itenseupattheoffer.Istarehardather.AndallthethingsIshould’vebeenwonderingaboutlast

nightaresuddenlytheonlythingsthatmatter.

“Whothefuckareyou?”Iask.
“I’vebeenwatchingyou,”shesayssoftly
“Who.Thefuck—”
“Foraverylongtime.”Hervoiceislacedwithsweetness.Butforsomereasonitremindsmeof

poison.

“—areyou?”
“Iknowmorethanyouthink.”Thistimeit’satease.
“Imightconsiderthatathreat.Peoplewhothreatenmegenerallyendupdead.Youthinkyou’re

somekindofspy,Sugar?Youcomeinherebraggingofyourfirearmspermit,callingyourselfa
privateinvestigator.Well,lookhere,cookie,youhavenoideawhatyou’redoing.You’rejustsome
smallpieceofentertainmentthatmakesalotofnoiseandputsonaniceshow.Somekindof
diversion.AndyouknowwhatIdowithdiversions?”Itakeafewstepscloser.Shestepsback,
bumpingintothekitchenisland.“I—”

Butthephonerings.Thefuckinglandline,whichishangingonthewallofthekitchenrightnextto

Cinderella.

BeforeIevenknowwhat’shappening,she’sgotthehandsetuptoherear,saying,“Hello?”
Ifreeze.Shestaresatme.“Yes,he’shere.WhomayIaskiscalling?”Shebitesherlip,eyesnever

leavingmine.Sheholdsoutthephone.“It’syourmother.”

Icoverthedistancebetweenusintwolongstrides,snatchthephonefromher,cupmyhandtightly

overthetransmitterend,andgrowl,“Youbettertakethisopportunitytorunthefuckaway,Cinderella.
Becauseit’stheonlychanceyou’regonnaget.”

Iturnmybacktoher,placethephoneagainstmyear,andsay,“Hey,what’sup?”asIwalkoutthe

backdoortothepatioandlookacrosstheoceanatthelow-hangingsun.

“Youhaveagirlfriend?”
“No.”Ilaugh.“No.”
“Paxton,girlsdon’tansweryourhomephone.Whoisshe?”
Whynow,forfuck’ssake?Idon’thearfromherinmonthsandnow,rightnow,thisisthemoment

shedecidestocall?“IstheresomethingIcandoforyou,Mother?”

“Youdidn’tanswermyquestion.”
“AndI’mnotgoingto.What’sup?”
Shesighsontheotherendofthephone.“Somethingveryinterestingwasjustdeliveredtothe

house.”

Mywholebodygoestense.“Whatwasit?”
“Idon’tthinkweshouldtalkoverthephone,Paxton.I’llcomeseeyou,”shesays,alightnessinher

voicethatshouldn’tbethere.“We’lltalkthen.Andgototheraces.Ihaven’tbeentoDelMarinages.”

Fuck.
“TheDebutanteStakesisnextweekend.ThereisaLimitlessfillyrunningwhoI’dliketosee.I

haveacarscheduled.Ihaveothermeetingswithpotentialclientssowe’llmeetinthebarn.Shallwe

say…fiveishonSaturday?”

“Mother.”Isigh,pinchingthebridgeofmynose.“Ireallydon’thavetimeforthisrightnow.Ijust

gotacallfromNolanandIhavetodosomediggingforhim.”

“Youdon’tevenlikeNolan.”
“Iknow.”Itrytomassagetheheadacheoutofmytemplewithmyfingertips.“Butit’sweirdandI

can’tignoreit.SoIneedtogohelphimoutbecauseWestisn’taroundandhe’spartoftheproblem.I
can’tignorethem,youknowthat.”

“Well,I’madvisingyounottoignorethiseither.AsIsaid,Paxton,Ihavesomethingtoshowyou.

Youwillwanttoseethis.Nowputthatgirlbackonthephone.Ineedtoaskhersomething.”

“Youdon’t,believeme.”IstarestraightinCindy’seyesasshewaits,apinchedlookonherface.I

turnmybacktoher.“Andshe’salreadygone,anyway.Justleaveit,Mother.”

“Callherbackinside,Paxton.Ihaveaquestionforher.AndyouknowfullwellIwillnottakeno

forananswer.Soyoumightaswelljustgiveintomeandgetitoverwith.”

IhuffoutsomeairandturnaroundandfindCinderellaleaningupagainsttheopenpatiodoor.

Armscrossed.Frowning.Iwalkover,cuppingmyhandoverthetransmitendofthephoneagain.
“Don’tsayanything,”Iwhisper,asIhandherthephone.

Shelookssurprised,buttakesthephoneandplacesittoherearoutofinstinct.“Hello?”Apause.

“Cindy,”shesays,lookingatme.“Yes,Ido.”Then,“Yes,that’strue.Howdidyouknow?”

Ishakemyheadather,thendragafingeracrossmythroatinacutitoffmotion.
ButCindyissmiling.“Ilovethem.”Moresmiles.“I’dloveto.”
Ipullthephoneoutofherhandandputituptomyear.“No.Whateveryoujustaskedher,it’sno.

I’llseeyounextweekend—”

“Paxton?”
“What?”
“Youneedtobringheralong.”
“Why?”Whatthefuckishappening?Imean,JesusChrist.Ispendtenyearsdoingthemost

questionableshittodigscumbagoffspringoutofscandalandnoneofthatwashalfasfrustratingas
Cindyandmymotherrightnowinthismoment.

“I’llexplainonSaturday.Seeyouthen.”
Igetadialtone,soIwalkbackinsideandplacethehandsetbackonthebaseinthekitchen.“What

didsheaskyou?”

“SheaskedifIlikehorses.Well,firstsheaskedmemyname.AndIsaidCindybecauseCinderella,

right?”Sherollshereyes.“AndthensheaskedifIlikedhorses.Whichisayes,ofcourse.Ialways
hadponiesgrowingup.Andthenshesaid,‘Youlovetheraces,don’tyou?’Andofcourse,Isaidyes
again.”Cindylooksupatme.“SheinvitedmetoDelMarnextweekendtowatcharace.SoIgetto
meether.Shesaidifyoudidn’tbringmewithyou,Ishouldjustpickupmyticketatwillcalland
showupintheTurfClubatfive.”

“Isthatright?”Myheadbeginstopound.
“That’sright.”Cindyshrugs.
“Soyou’regoing?”
“Oh,hellthefuckyes,I’mgoing.”
“Whatifweplaythatgametonight?”Iask,grinning,butit’soneofthoseevilgrins.“Andyou

lose.”

Sheswallowshard,thenliftsherheadupandsquareshershoulders.“I’mawinner,Mr.Mysterious.

Youshouldgetusedtothatfact.AndI’llplaythatgamewithyouifyouwant.Butit’sgotnothingto
dowithyourmother,whomIwillbemeetingnextweekend.EvenifIhavetodrivemyself.”

Idon’tthinksheknowswhatthegameis.Ithinkshe’sbeenresearchingme.Cameuponsomeclue

frombackintheday.I’mnotsurehowitgotout,butshe’saninvestigator,right?Herjobistofind
dirtonpeople.

Butmyjobistocoveritup.It’slikeanironiclittleparadox.
Iwalkovertoher.Rightupnexttoher.She’snotsmall,butItoweroverher.Shelooksupwith

thosegiantblueeyesandIremembersomething.

“You’reblonde.”
“What?”Itcomesoutasawhisper.
“Thecarpetdoesn’tmatchthedrapes,sugar.You’reblonde.You’vegotblueeyesandthefaceofa

fairytaleprincess.Whydoyoudyeyourhairblackandwearallthatshitonyourface?”

“Excuseme?”Shenarrowshereyesatme.
Inarrowminerightback.“Youheardme,”Isay,grabbinghershoulderandpullingherincloser.

Ourfacesarelessthananinchapart.Ifangerwasn’tcoursingthroughmybloodrightnow,itmight
appearIwasgonnakissher.

Iamnotgoingtokissher.
“Youwearthatmakeuptohide.Youdyeyourhairtohide.Theseclothes,”Isay,pinchingthefabric

ofhervintageMetallicat-shirtbetweenmyfingers,“areyourdisguise.You’reasweetlittleliar,
aren’tyou?Tellme,Cindy.Whichofthemanythingsyoutoldmesincewe’vemetareliesandwhich
areactuallytrue?”

I’mgoingtothreatenher.
“Letgo,”shesays,placingbothhandsfirmlyonmychestandpushingmeback.Myfeetdon’teven

move.Iamawallasfarasshe’sconcerned.Amountain.Madeofstone.Immovable.Insurmountable.
Unconquerable.

“Letgo?Ithoughtwewerefate,sugar?Ithoughtwewerepartners?”Igrowlthosewordsoutlike

she’stheenemy.

Shestraightensherbackandlevelshergazeatme.“I’mnotafraidofyou.”
“Youshouldbe,”Isay,leaningsoclosetoherfaceournosestouch.Istareintohereyes.“Find

yourownfuckingwaytoDelMar,bitch.Butifyouknowwhat’sgoodforyou,you’llstaythefuck
awayfrommeandmyfamily.”

ChapterEleven-Cindy

Paxtondisappearsafterthat.Foralmostthewholeweek.HetoldhismotherthatNolancalledand

askedhimtodosomething.Isthatwherehewent?OrishealreadyworkingforthatLiamguy?I
knowtheNolanhe’sreferringtoisMr.Romantic.AndthejobwithLiamwasaboutMr.Corporate.
WhatIdon’tknowishowmuchofthisinvolvesmybrother,Mr.Match.

Icasehishouseallweek.Idon’tbothergoingbacktoBuster ’sandhopingforadeliverycall.That

driverIwasbribingtoletmeknowaboutPaxton’ssandwichorderswasfired,soIcan’tweaselany
moreinformationoutofthatlittledeal.

Igointohishouseeverynight,carefultodisarmthesecuritysystemsothere’snoalert,justto

checkandseeifhe’shome.Buthe'snot.Andtherearenomessagesonthatlandlinephone.There
isn’tevenanansweringmachine.

SoIwaitinmytrailerdownPCH.AndIhangoutinthewaveswiththesurfersinfrontofhis

house,hopinghe’llsurprisemeandcomeouttherelikeheusuallydoeswhenhe’sintown.

Buthenevercomes,sohe’snotintown.
Whereishe?Whatishedoing?Theweekdragsonsoslowly,itmakesmewanttoscreamintomy

pillowatnight.AndbythetimeSaturdaymorningrollsaround,I’machingforhim.Justalookat
him.Igetupearlyandplanmyoutfit,wonderingwhatMarielHawthorneisreallylikeonceyouget
toknowher,andthenmakethefour-hourdrivedowntoSanDiegocountyinweekendtraffic.

IhaveneverbeentoDelMarracetrack,butIhavebeentoBelmontthatonetimeIwasstalking

Paxton’smother.ShesaidmeetherintheTurfClub,sothat’swhereIheadonceIgetinside.

Theyhaveadresscode,soIamappropriatelyattiredasIhandovermyticketforinspectionand

smileatthemanguardingthedoor.

“Rightdownthatway,miss.”Theusherpointstoasectionoftables.
“Thankyou,”Isay,smilingsweetly.Ihavenointentionofgoingtomyseat.Iheadtothebarand

orderamintjulep.

“It’snottheDerby,ma’am,”thebartendersayswithawink.
“Ijustlikethem.”Ishrug.
“Comingup.”HestepsawaytomakemydrinkandIturnaround,comefacetofacewithPaxton,

andholdmyhandovermychest,startled.

“Jesus,Pax.Youdon’thavetosneakuponme.”
Hegrinslikehe’sgotasecret.
Andhelooks…fuckhot.I’veseenhiminsuits.Imean,hewearsthemallthetime.Usuallywith

oneofthoseredpowerties.Buttheyareusuallyblackandformal.

Todayhe’swearingalightgraysuitwithacoraltieandmatchingpocketsquare.
IhavetotakeadeepbreathasIstareupintohiseyes,tryingmybestnottooverlyappreciatehim.
“Onemintjulep,”thebartendersaysbehindme.
“I’llhavebourbon,”Paxsays,eyesneverleavingmineashereachesbehindmeformydrink.
“Yes,sir,”thebartendersays.
“Thesethingswillkillyou,”Paxsays,lookingmeupanddownwithfarlessself-controlthanI

exhibitedashehandsmemydrink.Whatapossessivelittlemovewiththedrink.Itmakesmefluttera
little.“Whatthefuckdidyoudotoyourhair?”heasks.

Ishrug.“Youdidn’tseemtolikethedark.”IpaidthreehundreddollarsthatIdidn’treallyhavefor

asaloninMalibutogetmynaturalcolorback.ButIliketheresult.It’sbeendarkforyearsnowand
I’vemissedmynaturallook.“Sothisisme.”

Hisfingersfindtheirwayintomythickheadofgoldenlocks,rubbingthembetweenhisfingers.

“That’squiteatrick.”

“Itwastime.”Isigh,thentakeasipofmydrink.“Ihaven’tbeenblondesinceIlefthomeat

eighteen.”

“Whynot?”
“Bourbon,”thebartendersays,stillbehindme.
Paxreachesintohispocket,pullsouthiswallet,thenputstwotwentiesonthebarashetakeshis

drink.

“Change?”thebartenderasks.
“Keepit,”Paxsayswiththesmoothassuranceofamanwithmoney.“Haveyouseenmymother?

I’mgoingtoassumeyouknowwhatshelookslike,seeingashowyou’reaprivateinvestigator.With
firearmspermit,”headds,takingalongsipofhiswhiskey.

“Ijustgothere.You?”
“Same.”Hetakesanotherdrink.“Let’sgofindherthen.”Hetakesmyunoccupiedhandandplaces

itonhisforearm,leadingmeaway.

“Whyareyoubeingsonice?”Iask,suddenlyvery,verynervous.
“Don’tmistakecautiousfornice,Cinderella.Mymotherwantstotalktome.Shewantedyoutobe

included.AndIcan’thelpbutthinkthere’sareasonforthat.”

“Likewhat?”Iask.Westepdownafewstairsintothemaindiningroom.Thereisanunobstructed

viewofthefinishlinedirectlyahead,andPaxleadsmeallthewaydowntothefronttoagroupof
emptytables.“Wherehaveyoubeenallweek?”

“Busy.”
“Doingwhat?YoutoldyourmotheryouhadtodosomethingforyourfriendNolan.He’sMr.

Romantic,right?Don’tyouthinkit’soddthatyougetacallfromMr.RomanticandthenthatLiam
guyshowsupaskingyoutotakecareofMr.Corporateforhim?”

ButPaxignoresme,takesouthisphone,andsendsatext.Hegetsapingbackbeforehecan

redirecthisattentiontome.“She’sinthebarn.”Andthenunderhisbreath,“Ofcourse.Comeon.
We’llmeetherdownthere.Theraceshe’sinterestedinislatertonight.She’llhangoutthereuntilpost
timeifIdon’tpullheraway.”

“Areyougoingtoanswerme?”Iask,stoppingsohehastostoptoo.
“Whatdoyouwantmetosay?”
“Wherehaveyoubeenallweek?”
Hedownstherestofhisdrinkandthensetshisemptyglassonashelfthebettorsusetoporeover

theirracingforms.Idecidetodothesame,slammingmyglassdownalittleharderthanIshould.

“IwasontheEastCoast.WithNolan.Someprettyweirdfuckingshitwentdown.”
“Likewhat?”
Helooksmeintheeyes.“Idon’tknowifIshouldtrustyouornot.Idon’tknowwhyIhaven’t

kickedyouasideyet.But…”Hesighs,likehe’sreallygotalotonhismind.Likehe’stiredandjust
needsamomenttocatchhisbreath.“Tellmewhyyou’rehere,Cindy.”

Igetthefeelingheneedsthisanswer.“Somethinghappened,didn’tit?Withyourfriend.”
“Whyareyouhere?”
“Ijustlikeyou,”Isay.Itcomesoutsoft.Ifheseemstired,thenImustseemdefeated.Becausethat’s

kindahowIfeel.WhyamIstalkinghim?DoIreallyknowanymore?

“Areyou…”Buthestops.Looksaway.

“AmIwhat?”Buthestayssilent.“I’mnotheretohurtyou.Noonehiredme,ifthat’swhatyou’re

after.Iswear,I’mjustagirlwhosawyourpictureonthenewsandgotobsessed.OK?Andyeah,it’s
weird,andwrong,andcreepy.ButI’mreallynotanyofthosethings.Iswearit.I’mjustagirlwho
likesaguy.”

Helooksatme.Finally.“That’sit?”heasks.Andsomewhereinthatsmall,almostinsignificant

question,Ifindvulnerability.“That’sallthisis?Justagirlwholikesaguy?”

Ishrug.“That’sit.”
“OK,”hesays,givingin.AndeventhoughIshouldfeelalittlereliefthathedoesn’tpushme

harderaboutthetruth,Idon’tfeelrelief.Iwanttotellhim.Iwanthimtoknowme.Iwanttoknow
him.Notinthestalkerway.That’snothingbutinformation.Andthesexdidn’tgivememuchinsight.
Notthewaywedidit,asfuckbuddies.“Maybewecantalkaboutitlaterthen?”

“Yeah,”Isay.“I’dreallyliketotalkaboutitlater.”
AndthenIrealizethatcouldmeantwothings.I’dreallyliketotalkaboutitlaterbecauseIdon’t

wanttotalkaboutit.OrI’dreallyliketotalkaboutitlaterbecausenowisn’tthetime,butI’mdyingto
talkaboutit.

Idon’thaveachancetoaskhimwhichwayhetookit,becauseheturnsawayandleadsmethrough

thecrowdofpeople.

Tothebarnwego.It’salongishwalk,pastcrowdsofwell-dressedpeopleholdingdrinks,

laughingandtalkingeasily.Paxsmilesatalotofthem.Somecallhisname,sayinghello.He’spolite,
butneverstopswalking.He’soneofthosemenwhoalwaysseempreoccupiedwithlife.Alwayshave
somethingontheirmind.

Peoplenoticethis.Peoplefeel…notjealous,really.Butoutsideofhim,Icanjusttellbytheway

everyonewatchesus,theywanttoknowmore.Likeme,Irealize.Hehasthismagnetismthatdraws
youin,buthealsohasthisstaythefuckawayfrommevibethatpreventsaninvasionofprivacy.

It’sparadoxical,Irealize.He’sawalkingparadox.
Heleadsmedownseverallevelsuntilweareonthefloorwiththebettors.Wemakeourwayout

intothepaddockarea,whereadozenorsogood-lookingthoroughbredsareprancing,eagerastheir
jockeysareliftedupontheirbacksandtrainersleanintowhisperlast-minuteadvice.

PaxtonpullstwoIDbadgesfromhissuitcoatpocketandshowsthemtoasecurityguard.The

guardsmiles,nods,wavesusthrough.

Andthen…“Wow,”Isay,myeyesdartingeverywhereatonce.Thingswerebusyoutfront,butthe

bustlebackhereinthebarnsissomethingelsealtogether.Horseswalkingonthecoolers,beingled
bygrooms,standingbeautifully,likekingsandqueens,intheiropen-airstalldoors.

Thisplacedripswithmoney.
“Neverbeentothebackside?”Paxtonasks.
“Ihave,”Isay,beforerealizingtheonlyothertimewasatBelmont,whenIwasstalkinghismother.

DearGod.Whatifsherecognizesme?“Butitwasn’tlikethis.”

“Thisisastakesrace.It’skindofabigdeal,evenifit’sonlyfortwo-year-oldfillies.Theywantto

seethegirlswhomightgofarnextyearandthisisoneoftheracesthatcount.Thebestyoungladies
inSouthernCaliforniaareinthisrace.”

“Oh,”Isay.“I’mnotreallyuponracing.”
“Well,”hesays,staringdownatmeasIgazeup.“Youlookthepart.”
Ismile,possiblyblush,andthenshakemyheadalittle.
“That’sanicedress.Wereyoustalkingmethismorning?”
“What?”
“Thedress?”
“Whataboutit?”

“Youmatchmytie.”
“Oh.”Ilaugh.“No.”Andit’sthetruth.“Ijustpickedsomethingoutofmytrailerthismorning.”
“Mmmm-hmm.”Buthedoesn’tbelieveme.Andthenhesays,“Trailer?”
Webothspothismotheratthesametimeandthankfullythatquestionhastheopportunitytogo

unanswered.Paxton’sstridelengthensslightlyashemakeshiswaytowardsher.Sheispettingapale
yellowhorsewithflaxenmaneasshelaughsandtalkswithaman.

“Mother,”Paxtonsays,oncewe’recloseenoughsohewon’thavetosaythewordtooloud.
“Paxton,”hismothersays,tskinghertongue.“Well,lookatthislovelyvisionyoubroughtwith

you.Cindy?”sheasks,holdingoutherhand.

“Yes,”Isay,nervouslyallowingherfingertipstograspmine.
“Well.”Shelooksupatthemanshewastalkingtowithasmile.“Thisisaverygoodomen.”
“Youbroughtusgoodluck,Pax,”themansays.
Paxislookingatme,thenthehorse.Webothgetitatthesametime.Ilooklikethefilly,thanksto

myimpulsivehairchange.

“Oh,mydear,”Mrs.Hawthornesays,redirectingherattentionbacktome.“Youareadorable.”
Thefillyisnuzzlingme,somyhandreachesupoutofhabittostrokehernose.
“Isthisyourrisingstar?”Paxtonasks,noddingtowardsthehorse.
“Yes.”Hismotherbeams.“Didyouknowshe’sfullsistertoAladdin’sPrinceCharming,lastyear ’s

TripleCrownwinner?”

“No,”Paxsays.Hiseyessquintatthehorsewithmorescrutiny.“Ididn’t.Lastyear ’sTripleCrown

winnerwasoneofours?”

“Howcouldyounotknowthat?”hismothersays,hervoicehigh.“PaxtonHawthorneVance—”
“Idon’tkeepupwiththehorses,Mother.Youknowthat.”
Sheletsoutalongbreath,thenturnstotheman.“William,willyouexcuseus?Wehavesome

familybusinesstodiscuss.”

“Surething,Mariel.Youknowwheretofindme.”
Hewalksoff,Mariel’sgazelingeringonhimforalittlelongerthannecessary.
“WilliamBarker?”Paxtonasks,leaningdowntowhisperinhismother ’sear.“Really?”
“What’swrongwithWilliam?We’vebeenfriendsfortwentyyears.”
“You’redatingatrainer?Whathappenedto,Iwillneverdateanotherhorsemanforaslongas—”
“Oh,psssshhhh,”hismothersays.“Isayallkindsofthingsintheheatofthemoment.Williamis

oneofthegoodones.Andhesawbeyondthisfilly’sprettylooksandfoundherpotential.Ihaveto
respectthat,don’tI?”

Ican’thelpbutfeelaconnectiontothebeautifulhorse.Peoplehaveahardtimeseeingbeyondmy

lookstoo.WhichiswhyIdyedmyhairdarkinthefirstplace.Ibetifthatfillyhadthemeans,she’d
makeherselfbay,orblack,orbrownjusttobetakenseriously.

“Youwanttotellmewhywe’rehere?”Paxsays,impatient.
I’dliketoknowthataswell.Familybusinessshouldnotincludeanewlyacquiredfuckbuddy.
Andthenshepullssomethingoutofhersmallclutchpurse.Paxtonstepsaway,myhandfalling

fromhisarmashetriestomakehisretreat.Ittakesmeamomenttofigureoutwhathashimso
rattled,andthenIseewhathismotherisholdinginherhand.

Asilverenvelope.
“Whatthefuckisthat?”Paxsaysittooloud.Ilookaroundandpeoplearestaring.
“Paxton,”hismotherwhispers.“Yourlanguage.”
“Wheredidyougetthat?”Paxsnatchestheenvelopeoutofherhandsandopenstheflap,takesout

asilvercard,glancesatit.“Whatisthis?”

“Areyoudonenow?”hismotherasks.

“Mother,”Paxsays,ragefilteringintothesingleword.“Ineedtoknowwhereyougotthis.It’s

veryimportant.”

Iknowthesignificanceofthesilverenvelopes.Well,notentirely.ButIknowthatasilverenvelope

waspartoftheevidenceagainstmybrotherandhisfriendsbackwhentheywereaccusedofraping
thatgirlincollege.Ioverheardmyparentstalkingaboutitonenight,justafterhewasaccused.

“Um,”Isay,unsurewhattodo.Clearlythisisnotamomentforanalmoststrangertowitness.“I

thinkI’llwaitintheclubhouse.”

“Cinderella,”hismothercoos,hereyeslingeringonPaxtonamomentbeforeturningtomeet

mine.“Sinceyou’vedecidedtoplayapartinthis,Ithinkit’sbestyoustay.”

“Howdidyou—”
“Knowyourrealname?”Shesmirksatme.Andthewayshestressedthewordreallyhasme

worriedforamoment.

DoessheknowwhoIam?Doessheknowwhomybrotheris?Ifsheoutsmerightnow,Icankiss

anythingIhavewithPaxtonVancegoodbye.Onceheknows—

“Ihaveeyes,darling.We’vemetbefore,remember?”
“You’vebeenstalkingmymother?”Paxasks.
“Oh,calmdown,Paxton.She’sahorsewoman.Didn'tshetellyou?”
“Idid,”Isayquickly.“HeknowsIgrewuponafarm.”
MarielkeepshergazetrainedonPax.“Shecomesfromquiteafamily.”
“Tattooartists,Ihear,”Paxsays.
“Yes,”Marielsays.“Someofthemaretattooartists.”
Icatchthethreatinthewayshesayssomeofthem,butPaxtonislookingattheenvelopeagain.

“Didshesendyouthis?”Thenhewhirlstowardsme.

“Don’tbesilly,Paxton.Thisismine.Fromaverylongtimeago.”
“Youarecordiallyinvited—”Paxstartsreading,butMarieltakesthecardfromhishandand

pressesittoherbosom,lookingverynervous,losingabitofherperfectedcomposure.

“Donoteverreaditaloudinpublic,”shewhispers.“It’snotsomethingyoureadinpublic.”
“Why?Whatthefu—”Hestopsthecurseword,barely,thentakesadeepbreathtocompose

himself.“Tellmewhatthismeans.Thingsarehappeningagain,Mother.Ijustgotbackfromavery
messed-upweekontheEastCoastwithNolan.Anditinvolvedaacertainsilverenvelope.Ineedto
knowwhatthehellthismeans.”

“Andyouwill,”shesays,thenlooksaround.Allthreeofuslookaround,actually,acutelyaware

thattherearealotofpeoplebackhereinthebarns.“Butnothere.Williamhasoffereduphisoffice
forustotalk.Let’sgothere.”

Sheleadsusthroughtheshedrowofstalls,pastdozensofbeautifulhorses,theirheadsreaching

forus,lookingfortreatsaswepassthem,andthenstopsinfrontofanopendoortowavesusin.

Paxthrowsuphishands.“Afteryou,”hesays.Likemannerswerebredintohimlikethejoyof

runningwasbredintothesehorses,andhecan’tpossiblyenteraroombeforealady,evenifhe
wantedto.

Theofficesmellslikemoney,ifmoneysmelledlikethetrack,andeverythingiscoveredinathin

layerofdustthewaybarnofficesoftenare.Paxtongrabstwofleecesaddlepads,placesoneonthe
chairbehindthedeskandmotionstohismothertositthere,thenplacestheotheronachairforme.

Webothsit,ourdressessafefromdust,asPaxtonclosesthedoorandturnsthelock.“Now,”he

says,comingbacktostandbetweenus.“We’regonnatalkaboutthis.”Helooksatme.“Andnooneis
leavinguntilIknoweverything.”

ChapterTwelve-Paxton

Ihavetoadmit,seeingCindyasablondehasdefinitelyhadtheeffectshewasgoingfor.I’mnota

suckerforblondes—Ilikegirlsofallflavorsequally.But,Je-sus.Bombshellistheonlywordto
describethiswomanasablonde.

Nope,hertitsaren’tanybiggertodaythantheywereyesterday.Infact,she’snotevenshowingany

cleavagerightnow.Thatdressistheperfectcombinationoftailored,sophisticated,andsexywithout
beingtrashy.Butsheissostrikinglybeautiful,it’shardnottostare.

Andthecolor.IhavetoscratchmychinasIthinkaboutthecoincidenceofthecolor.Welooklike

acouple.Apowerful,beautiful,coordinatedcouple.

Ateam.
“Readitoutloud,”mymothersays,handingCindythesilverenvelopeandcard.
“Wait,”Isay,puttingupahand.“Shedoesn’treallyneedtobehere.Igetit,you’vegotmy

attention.”

“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Cindyasks,readytoreadlikeshewasasked.
“Paxton,”mymothersays,usingthatfeignedvoiceofreasonIrememberalltoowellfrommy

childhood.“Shutupandlistenforonce.”

Iglareather.
Sheglaresback.
DoInotintimidateanyoneanymore?Therewasatimewhen—
“‘Youarecordiallyinvited,’”Cindystarts.Shesquintshereyes.“Someoftheletteringhasworn

off.”

“Letmesee,”Isay,makingaswipeforthecard.
Cindyslapsmyhand.“Youcan’tseeitanybetterthanme.Justgivemeasecond.”
Ilookatmymotherandrollmyeyes.Sheindulgesmewithhalfasmile.“It’sold,Paxton.The

engravinghaswornthin.Becalm.”

Becalm.
ItakeadeepbreathjustasCindycontinues.
“‘YouarecordiallyinvitedtoPledge’—that’sacapitalletter.Notsureifit’simportantornot,

but…”Cindylooksatme.“Justgivingyouthefacts.‘ToPledgeSilver.’Alsocapitalized.”Shestops
andfrowns.“Idon’tgetit.What’sPledgeSilver?”

“Soundslikeafurniturepolish,”Isay.
“Right?”Cindylaughs.Herwholefaceisdifferentwiththenewhair.Fresh,andinnocent,andfair.

She’snotwearingthedarkeyemakeuptodayeither.Infact,I’msureshe’swearingmakeup,butit’s
hardtotell.Shelooks…natural.

“Arethetwoofyouinkindergarten?”mymotherquips.“Thisisveryseriousandyouwon’tbe

laughingwhenwegettotheendofthisday,I’lltellyouthatrightnow.”

Iwanttoshareanothersmile,butCindygoesbacktoreading,properlychastised.
“‘TheEvent’—what’swiththecapitalletters?”Cindylooksatmymotherforanexplanation.“It’s

important,right?Theyarepropernouns?”

“Cynthia,”mymothersays,gettinghernamewrong—onpurpose,Icanonlyassume—havinga

hardtimewiththeDisneyaspectofit.“Wewilldiscussthehiddenmeaningsonceyoufinish.If,”she

stresses,“youcanmanagethat?”

IwaitforCinderellatocorrectherabouthername,butshedoesn’t.Shetakesinasilent,butdeep,

breath,andkeepsgoing.

“‘TheEventwillstarttheGameofyourlife.Youwillpledgeallegiancetotheparty,placeyour

piecesontheboard,andtakeyourchanceswithyourpartnerasyoustormtheworldwithyour
prowess.’”Cindyfrowns.“IthinktheyoverdiditwiththePwords.”

“Theycanbedramatic,Iagree.Keepgoing,”mymothersays.
“Therestisjustdatesandtimes.Thethirty-firstofOctober.”Cindyfrownsagain.“Halloween.

Weird.Atmidnight.Creepy.”Shestopsreadingandhandsmethecard.“There’snoyear,butthatcard
looks…vintage.”

Ilookitover,butthat’sit.That’sallthat’sonit.“Whatisthis?”Iholditupandlookatmymother.
“Aninvitation,ofcourse.”
“Towhat?Somefraternity?”
“No,”Cindysays.“SomekindofSkullandBonesstuff,right?”
“Secretsociety?”
Mymotherremainssilentasweworkthroughthings.
“It’smeanttolike…scarepeople,”Cindysays.“Ormakethemfeelspecial,right?”
Mymotherabsorbsourguessesandexpectantlooks,foldsherhandsonthedirtydesk,unmindful

ofthedustallaroundher.“Somethinglikethat.Yes.”

“It’syours?”
Sheshrugsinmydirection,noncommittal.“No,notreallymine.”
“Well,wheredidyougetit?”Ifeelaheadachecoming.
“Afriend.”
“Mother,”Isay,angerandfatiguegettingthebestofme.“Whatthefuckisgoingon?Anddon’t”—

Ipointathergettingreadytopointatme—“scoldmeaboutlanguage.Weirdshitishappeningagain.
DoyouunderstandwhatI’msaying?”IrollmyeyesinthedirectionofCindy,justtomakesureshe
knowsnottosayanythingtoospecificinfrontofher.Butmymotherwavesherhandatme,likeshe’s
unconcerned.

“ThisiswhyI’vecalledyoubothheretoday.”
“Both?Whatareyoutalkingabout?Cindyhasnothingtodowiththis.”
“Perhaps,”mymothersays,smilingatthebeautifulgirlwhojusthappenedtodropintomylife.

“Wecanalwayshope,anyway.Can’twe?”

Cindy’seyesgobig.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”
“No,dear.Youwouldn’t.”
Iwanttoasksomanyquestions,butIknowmymotherbetterthananyone.She’sbeingcryptic,and

whenshegetsinoneofthosecrypticmoods,there’snogettinghertosaymorethanshefeels
necessary.Soinstead,IhuffoutalongbreathofairandsitinthechairnexttoCindy,resignedtothe
factthatMarielHawthorneisinchargehere.

“ThelettercamefromtheSilverSociety.Haveeitherofyou…heardofit?”
“No,”Isay,mypatiencejustaboutdone.“ButI’vecertainlyseenthoseenvelopesbefore.”
“Andtheinvitation?”mymotherasks,cockingoneeyebrowatme.
“No.”Ishrug.“Itwasn’taninvitation.”
“Whatwasit?”
Ihavenevertoldherthis.Nevertoldanyonethis.Nolangotaglimpseofmyevidencebackinhis

houseonMartha’sVineyard,butitwasonlyaglimpse.HehasnocluewhatIwasuptothatnightback
incollege.

“Wasitagame,Paxton?”

Howtoexplaintoyourmotherthatyouwereplayingthatgame,thatnight?Andhowtoexplain

thatthetwocannotpossiblyberelated,eventhoughtheymustbe?Theymustberelated.Silver
envelopeshavefollowedmemywholelife.IaskedPerfectaboutitjustyesterday,whileallthatshit
onMartha’sVineyardwasbeingwrappedup.Hedeniedhavingseenanysilverenvelopes.Buthe
calledmebacklaterlastnightandtoldmeaboutthescavengerhunthesentEllieon.Heusedsilver
envelopes.Didthatcount?

Hellthefuckyes,itcounts.Whythefuckwouldheusesilverenvelopes?
Hedidn’thaveananswer.Saidtheywerenice.Sophisticatedandelegant.
AndthenNolan.Iaskedhimtoo.Andhesaidheseesthemeverywhere.Evenbackinschool,he

saidhegotaninvitationtoapartybuthethrewitawayandneverwent.

Wasthishisinvitation?
Igetupsofast,mychairscrapesacrossthedustybarnwoodfloor.“IneedtocallDelaney.”
“No,youdonot,Paxton.”Mymotheriscalmandcool.Unfazed.Collected.“Whateverisgoingon

withhimisnotrelatedtoyou.”

“Hesaidhegotaninvitationbackinschoolanditcameinasilverenvelope.”
“Nothing,”mymotherrepeats,“todowithyou.Andyouhaven’tansweredmyquestion.Inwhat

capacitydidyouuse—orsee—silverenvelopesbackinschool?”

“I’veneverseenone,”Cindysays.“DoIneedtobehereforthis?Ihavenocluewhatyou’re

talkingabout.”

“I’lldealwithyoulater,Cynthia.”Cindywincesatthename.“Butfornow,pleasebestillandlet

Paxtonanswer.”

Iexhaleagain.Longandloud.“Itwasagame.Iwasplayingagamethatnight.”
“Thisgamehaveaname?”mymotherasks.
Cindyshiftsuncomfortablyinherseat.WhenIlookoverather,shebitesherlip.
“Ransom,”Isay.“ItwascalledRansom.”
“Wereyouplayingwiththatgirl?”
Inod.Slowly.Guiltily.“Iwas.”
“Whatdidyoudotoher?”
“Nothingshedidn’taskmetodo.”
“Wasanyoneelseplaying?”
Inod.
“TheotherMisters?”Cindyasks,leaningforwardinherchair.
Ishakemyhead.
“Who?”mymotherdemands.
“Theothergirlsfromsomenewhouse.First-years,Ithink.Idon’tremembertheirname.”
Mymothertakesoutherphone,tapsthescreen,studiesit.“KappaDelta?”
“No.”
“AlphaChiOmega?”
“No,”Isay.“Itoldyou,theywerenew.Theyweren’tGreek.”
It’smymother ’sturntoletoutalongbreathofair.“Well,”shesayssoftly.“OK.Idon’tknowwho

theycouldbethen.Howdidthegameend?”

“Withmeinjail,obviously.”Sopissedoff.IlookoveratCindy.Shewon’tevenmeetmyeyes.
“No,Paxton.Youdidn’tgotojailthatnight.Howdidthatnightend?”
“Idon’tknow,with…fuck.Idon’treallyremember.It’sbeentenyearsandit’sallkindofablur

thesedays.Ijustrememberwakingupwithpeopleshoutingatme.Jesusfuck,whocares?Theonly
thingthatmatteredwasIendedupinjail.”

“Youdon’tthinkyourlittlegamehadanythingtodowiththosecharges?”

“Doyou?”Shestaresatmewiththatcold,hardlookIremembergrowingup.“Yeah,ofcourseI

thinkit’srelated.Howthefuckcoulditnotberelated?ItwascalledRansom,forfuck’ssake.”

“Language,Paxton,”mymotherpracticallygrowls.
“Didyoukidnapher?”Cindyasks.
“Stayoutofthis,”Isay,irritated.
“Sorry,”Cindysays,puttingbothhandsuplikeshe’ssurrendering.
“Didyoukidnapher,Paxton?”mymotherasks,herquestiondevoidofemotion.
“It’scalledRansom.Soyeah,Ifuckingtookher.LikeIwassupposedto.”
“Whatdidyoudowithher?”Cindyagain.
Jesusfuck.“Doesshereallyneedtobehere?”
“Shereallydoes.Whatdidyoudowiththatgirl,Paxton?”
“Ifuckedher.OK?Itiedherup,mademyransomdemand,andthenwefucked.Welaughedandwe

fucked.Ididn’tevenknowPerfecthadtakenheroutthatnight.Ididn’tknowanythingaboutwhat
Romanticwasdoingwithher.Ididn’tknowshit,otherthanIwasplayingthegame.”

Long,loudexhalefrombothwomenastheysinkbackintotheirseats.
“Didyouuseasilverenvelope?”mymotherasks.“Forthisransomdemand?”
Ifeelveryguiltyrightnow.Very.Fucking.Guilty.“Itwaspartofthegame.Theysentmethe

envelopeandthecard.Theysaidmaketheransomdemandbycuttingoutlettersfrommagazines.SoI
did.Itwasagame.”Theybothstareatme.“Ididn’trapeher.”

ChapterThirteen-Cindy

God,Ifeelawfulbeinghereforthis.Ishouldn’tbehereforthis.Istandup,walkthetwopacesthat

separatesmychairfromPaxton’s,andplacemyhandonhisshoulder.“Idon’tthinkyourapedher,
Pax.”

Helooksupatme,eyesangryandredandhurt.“Whogivesafuckwhatyouthink?”
Irecoil,steppingbackonmyheels.I’mjustabouttoriphimanewonewhenhelooksathis

motherandhe…deflates.

That’swhoseopinionhegivesafuckabout,Irealize.Hers.
He’sright.Idon’tmatter.Noneofthisisaboutme.Hewastheoneaccusedofrapingagirlten

yearsagoandhewastheonewhohadtoexplainthingstohismotherafterthathappened.Icansee
theyloveeachother.Icanseetheyareveryclose.Herespectsher.Sheistoughandthereissomuch
dignityspillingoutofherblueblood,shepracticallysmellslikeclass.

“Thankyou,”Marielsays.“fortellingmethetruthafteralltheseyears.AndI’dliketosay,Paxton,

thatneveronce—notevenforamoment—didIeverthinkyouwereguiltyofthatcrime.”

“Sowhat?”Paxtonyells.“Theonlythingthatmatterswastheaccusation,right?It’senough,isn’t

it?Toruinaguy.Totakeawayallhischances.Allhisplans.Erasehisfuture.DoyouthinkI’dbe
doingwhatIdonowifIhadgraduatedfromBrown?”

“Thatisn’twhatmatters—”
Paxslamshisfistonthedesk,scatteringdustintotheair.“Itdoesmatter,goddammit.Itiswhat

matters.Ishouldn’thavehadtomakethatfuckingcall.Ishouldn’thavehadtoexplainmyself.I
shouldn’thavehadtodoanyofthat.Itwasafuckinggame.Shewaslaughing.Itwasajoke.Andthose
fuckingbitches—”

“Who?”Marielasks,standingupfromherchair,bothhandsflatonthedirtydeskassheleans

forward.“Whowerethey?Ineednames,Paxton.Ineednames.”

Holyfuck.“Ineedtogo,”Isay,standingupandwalkingquicklytowardsthedoor.Iunlockit,pull

itopen,andwalkoutbeforeeitherofthemcantrapmetherewiththeircommands.

I’msomewhereonthebackstretchoftheDelMarRacetrack.It’sdarknow,we’vebeentalkinglong

enoughforthattohappen.Thelightsareoninthebarnsandthereareamillionpeoplebustling
around.Groomsandhorses,trainersandowners.Justsomanypeopleit’shardtoreconciletheback
roomtalkwiththecelebratoryfungoingonouthere.

“Cindy,”Paxyellsbehindme.“Stop,”hesays.
Ikeepwalking,thankfulIworechunky-heeledshoesforthistripintothebarn,becausethereis

dusteverywhereandtheonlythingbetweenmeandthefiltharetheseplatformsandals.IfeellikeI’m
chokingonit.LikethisdirtrepresentsallthedisgustingthingsthathappenedtotheMisterstenyears
ago.Tomybrother,Irealize.Oliverwaspartofthat.Hemadethatsamephonecall.Hehadtoexplain
himselftoo.Hehadtolookmymotherintheeyesandsay,“They’regonnasayIrapedher,Mom.
AndIjustneedyoutobebraveandtuneitallout.”

Andmyparentshadtocallthelawyers,andRonin.FuckingRonin.AndthenFordshowedup,and

Five.And…

“Cindy,”Paxsays,hishandonmyshoulder.
IrealizeI’mcrying.Notlikesomelittledribble,either.Butafull-onwaterfalloftearsare

streamingdownmyface.

“What’swrong?”heasks.“Whyareyoucrying?I’msorry.Ididn’tmeantoyell,Iswear.Andmy

mothercangetalittleintense.She’ssorrytoo.Stop,”hesays,grippingmyshouldertightlynow,
makingmehalt.“Talktome.What’swrong?”

ButIcan’teventellhim,canI?NotwithoutgivingawaywhoIam.AndI’mnotgoingtodothat.I

don’tthinkthere’safutureforusafterall.Ithinkwhat’shappeninghereismegettingabigol’dose
ofreality.Ofadulting.Or…comingtotermswithafantasythatwillneverbeanythingmorethan
someteenager ’scrushonamansheneverreallyknew.

Ineverunderstood.ButIdonow.Iunderstandwhatthataccusationdidtothem.ToOliver,who

hasn’thadarealrelationshipwithawomansince.Tomymotherandfather,whoalreadyhadsomuch
sadnesstodealwithovertheyears,andwhohadtoputontheirbravefacesandsay,“No!Oursondid
notdothis.”Andprobablyallmysistersaswell.Iwastooyoung,Irealize.Toofuckingyoungand
stupidtocomprehendwhatthatwordreallymeant.

Rape.
“Ineedtogohome,”Isayquietly,unabletolookhimintheface.
“Youcan’tdrivehometonight.It’sfar,Cindy.Almostfourhoursaway.”
No.Homeismorethanathousandmilesawayandthat’swhereIwanttoberightnow.WithOliver.

Andmysisters.Iwanttoseemybrotherandsistersandmymomanddad.Andgivethemallahuge
hug.Say,“I’msorrythishappened.I’mfuckingsorryIdidn’tunderstand.Andmostofall,I’msorryI
ranawaychasingsomephantommannamedPaxtonVance.”

Ishould’vebeenconcernedwithOliver.Whywasn’tIfocusedonwhatreallymatters?Him.His

innocence.Hisreputationandgoodname.EspeciallyafterallthebullshittheywentthroughwhenI
waslittle

Oliver.Mysweet,sweetbrother.Myonlybrother.
Ishouldbelookingforwhosethimup.IshouldgiveuponPaxtonVanceandconcentrateonthe

onlyMisterwhomatters.Match.

“Cindy?”Paxhasbeentalkingthisentiretime.Iamwipingmytearsaway,tryingnottodrawtoo

muchattentiontomyself.Butit’sdarkwherewe’restanding.Ontheedgeofthebarnandthepaddock
area.Thereareatonofpeople.Trainers,jockeys,ownersalldressedupintheirspecialclothesas
theydrinkchampagneandlaughandhopefortheirhorsestocomebackwinners.

“I’lltakeyouhome,”Paxsays,finallyunderstandingthatI’mnotgoingtotalktohimanymore.

“Butmymotherwillbeverydisappointedifwedon’tatleaststayfortherace.It’supnext,thenthe
dayisoverandI’lltakeyouhomeifyouwant.”

Inod,stillsilent,andlethimleadmethroughthepaddock,downtheaisletowardsthestands,and

thenbackupintotheclubhouse.

ThistimewhenwegettotheTurfClub,everytableisfullexceptthefivePaxtonleadsmetowards.

WestopattheonecenteredbetweentwomoreemptytablesoneithersideandPaxsighs,readingmy
mind.“Thesearereservedforgroupsoftwenty.Mymotherhatescrowds,soshebuysallfourseatsat
eachofthefivetablesandthenwatchestheracealone.”

IfeellikeI’mmaybeundercontrolagain.Myfaceisdry,thetearshavestopped.“Iguessshewon’t

beherealonetonight,willshe?”

Paxsmiles.IthinkitmightbethefirstrealsmileI’veeverseenfromhim.It’snotagrin,likethe

onesheusedonmeinMalibu.Orasmirk,hisdefaultsetting.Justsmall,andwarm,andkind.“No,”
hesays.“Shewon’tbealonetonight.”

Thegoldenfilly’snameisAladdin’sCinderella.FullsistertoAladdin’sPrinceCharming,last

year ’sTripleCrownwinner.Thefirstsuchwinnerinalmostthirtyyears,Ifigureoutthrough
conversation.WhenMarielandherfriend,William,startshoutinghernameastheycomedownthe
homestretch,Paxshootsmeaweirdlook.

AndwhentheraceisoverandPaxleansintokisshismother,saying,“Congratulations,Mother.

Youdiditagain.Shewon,”MarielHawthornelooksstraightatmeanddeadpans,“Ofcourseshedid.”

IthinkaboutthosewordsasPaxandIwalktohiscar.Heisinsistingontakingmehome.Sayinghe

willtakecareofmycar,butthereisnowayinhellI’mdrivinghomealonetonight.Ithinkaboutall
thethingsthosewordscould’vemeantbutonlycomeupwithonethatmakessense.

Ofcourseshedid.
Likeitwasordained.

ChapterFourteen-Paxton

“Hey,”Cindysaysinalowvoice.“Wherearewegoing?The5freewayisrightthere.”
“I’vegotahousehereinDelMar.We’restayingtheretonight.”
“YouhaveahouseinDelMar?”Ican’ttellforsureinthelowlightofthestreetlamps,butwhenI

glanceoveratCindy,sheappearsconfused.

She’sdefinitelybeenspyingonme.Lookingmeup.I’msureshe’sgotallmypublicassets

cataloguedinthatheadofhers.AndthishouseinDelMarisn’toneofthem.Forgoodreason.
Reasonslikethis.

“Yeah,rightatthetopofthehill,actually.”Ipullintothedrivewaythatleadstothegated

communityinthecliffsabovetheDelMarRacetrackandflashmyIDattheguardswhenthewindow
rollsdown.

Theyknowme.
“Hey,Pax.Twiceinoneweek,huh?Maybeyoushouldjustmovedownhere?”
“MaybeIshould,”Itelltheguard.“Justthenightthough.GoingbackuptoLAinthemorning.”
“Dayattheraces?Winanything?”
“Justthisgirl.”
Cindyhuffsoutanobjection,buttheguardandIjustchuckle.
“Shelookslikeakeeper,”hesays.
“We’llsee.Haveagoodnight.”
“Youtoo,”theguardsays,winking.
“Thatwasrude,”Cindysaysoncemywindowisup.“Keepingme?”
“Hesaidit,notme.Whatdoyouwantmetodo?Getoutofthecarandbeattheshitoutofhimfor

insultingyou?”

Shecrossesherarmsandturnsherhead.
“Ican,”Isnarl.“Ifyouwant.AndIwon’teventhinktwiceaboutit.Justsaytheword.”
She’ssilent,butIdon’tgiveafuckwhatshethinksaboutthatoffer.SheneedstounderstandwhoI

am.WhatIam.WhatIdo.Sheneedstobeafraidofme.

“Youdon’tscareme,”shefinallysays,likeshe’sreadingmymind.
Whatever.She’sbeenweirdsincethatnightshefollowedmeuptomybedroom.Everythingabout

herisoff.I’mgivingitonenight,Idecided.Onenighttocrackhersecrets,thenI’mtossingherback.
Plentyoffishinthatseaoutthere.

Iwindmywayupthestreetsofthehigh-endneighborhoodleadingtomyhouse—well,technically,

it’sMr.Romantic’shousenow.Isoldittohimafewyearsback.ButheandIbothknowthisisstillmy
place.

IsortofconsiderallofNolan’shousesmine,Irealize.IusethatmonstrosityoutonMartha’s

VineyardforbusinesseverytimeI’montheEastCoast.Whichisn’tthatoften,Iadmit.Butit’sniceto
haveaplacetocrashwhenI’mthere.

Thepalmtreesinfrontofthehousearealllitup—everythingisonatimerhere—andCindysays,

“Whoa.Thisiskindanice.”

“Notusedtonicethings,MissVaughn?”
Shesaysnothing.

“Itisnice.ThiswasthefirsthouseIboughtoutofcollege.Formymother,really.Shewascruising

therealestatelistingsandtextedthisonetome,gushingabouthowniceitwouldbetolivenexttothe
track.Well,toliveinluxurynexttothetrack.SoIboughtit.”

“Foryourmother?”
“Forme.Buthertoo.Soshecanstayherewhenshewants.”
“Isshestayingheretonight?”
“Nah.Shewouldn’tstaywhenIhaveagirlwithme.”
“I’mnotwithyou,youknow.”
“Iknow.”Istopthecarinfrontofthedoorandturnitoff.“Let’sgo.I’mtired.”
Cindygetsoutofthecarandfollowsmeuptotheentry,leaningonthestuccowallasIkeyinthe

codetounlockthedoor.

Thealarmpadbeepsandflashesredatme.
IsmileoveratCindy,keyinthenumbersagain.Getalongerbeepandmoreemphaticflashing

lights.

“Problems?”Cindyasks.
FuckingNolan.HemusthavechangedthecodeafterIadmittedtopinchinghishousebackeast

wheneverIwanted.Asshole.AftereverythingIjustdidforhim,thisishowherepaysme?

Ihuffoutabreathofair,readytopunchinthenumbersinagain,butCindy’shandonmyarm

makesmestopandlookather.“Ifyougetitwrongthreetimesthey’llcallthecops.”Shenodsher
headtothesigninfrontofthelit-uppalmtree.“Iknowthatcompany.Theydon’tmessaround.”

Westareateachother.
“Thisisn’tyourhouse.”
“It’smine.”
“Sowhydon’tyouknowthecode?”
“IshareitwithanotherMister.Likewesharethejet.”
“Hmmm,”shesays,likesheknowsI’mlying.“Shallwegetahotel?Ortakeourchanceswith

jail?”

“We’renotgoingtojail.Don’tbedramatic.”
“Socallhimupandaskhimforthecode.”
Ihesitate.
“Problem?”
“He’snothome.”
“Hehasacellphone,right?”
Ilookbehindme,wonderifanyoftheboutiquehotelshereinDelMarwillhaveopenings,but

thenlookbackatCindywhenshepullsacordoutofherpurseandhooksituptoherphone.

“Theyhaveportsinthem.”Shesmilesatme,pluggingtheotherendintothebottomofthesecurity

pad.“Backdooraccess,sotospeak.”

“Well,that’snotverysecure.”
“Nooneknowsaboutit.”
“Exceptyou?”Ilaugh.
“Iknowsomeonehighupinthiscompany.Anoldfriend.”
“Really.”Hmmm.“Afriendofafriendofmineownsthiscompany.”
“What’shisname?”sheaskswithasmirk.“Maybehe’smycontact.”
She’sfishingformoreinformation.IbetshealreadyknowsthatoneofMatch’ssistersownsthis

securitycompanyandshe’stryingtogetmetocoughupmoreinformation.

“It’sawoman,”Isay.“Canyougetittoopenornot?”
Herthumbsarealreadyflyingacrossthekeypadofherphoneandafewsecondslater,there’sa

cheerypingandthepadflashesgreenasthelocksdisengage.

Shereachesforwardandopenstheglassdoors,pushingtheminward.Thenwavesahand.“After

you.”

“Iinsist,”Isay,fakingasmileandsteppingbacktomakeherenterfirst.“Whosayschivalryis

dead?”

Sheenters,Ifollow,andflickonthelightstothelivingroomfromthemasterpanelnearthedoor.
“Well,thisisquitenice.Isthatthetrackdownthere?”She’sattheterracedoors,alreadysliding

themopen,andtheseabreezeblowsherhairsoftlyaroundhershoulders.

Whoisthisgirl?
Iwalkovertothebar,callingout,“Drink?”asIgo.
“Sure.”
Igrabtwocrystaltumblersfromashelf,thenreachforthebooze.“Bourbon?”Iask.“There’sno

wayinhellwe’vegotpowderedsugarforamintjulep.”

“Bourbonstraight?”
“Rocks?”Isuggest.
“No.That’sgross.Howaboutamargarita?”
“Margarita?”Ipracticallysnort.“Whatkindofdrinkisthat?”
“Afunone,”shesays,frowning.
I’mtwistingthecapofthebottlewhenIstopandtakeherinagain.Thelightislowinhereandit

bathesherinasoftnessthatmakesmewonderagain.Whoisthisgirl?

“Wantmetomakethem?”
“What?”
“Themargaritas.It’sthatornothingforme.”
“Icanmakethem,”Isay.“Blended?”
“Ofcourse.”
Ofcourse.“Lemonortriplesec?”Iask.
“Strawberry,”shesaysback.
Ilaugh.“Wedon’thavestrawberry.”
Sheshrugs.“Thenforgetit.I’mnotthirsty.”
“Wedon’tdrinkbecausewe’rethirsty.”
“Thenwhyarewedrinking?”
“BecauseIreallyfuckingneedone.”
“Toomuchtalkaboutsilverenvelopestoday?”
“Whoareyou?”
Sheshrugs.“Cinderella,that’swho.”
Ican’tstoplookingather.She’ssofucking…mysterious.Ialmostlaughwhenthatwordpopsinto

myhead.

AhandgoestomychinasIconsiderwhattodo.ThenIwalktowardsthedoor,pullingmykeys

outofmypocket.

“Whereareyougoing?”
“Togetyousomefuckingstrawberries.”
“Don’tforgetthesalt,”sheyellsafterme.“Andsomepowderedsugar!”
Itrytoslamthedoorclosedonmywayoutofthehouse,butNolanputasoftclosemechanismon

thehingessotheglasswon’tbreakbyaccident,andit’saboutasanticlimacticasthiswholefucking
day.

IrevtheengineofmyAudi,thenbackoutofthedriveway,screechingmytires.

ChapterFifteen-Cindy

Istayoutontheterrace,evenafterPaxcomesbackandstartsblendingupthedrinks.Hesays

nothing,justgetstowork.Andtenminuteslater,aftermany‘fucks,’and‘shits,’and‘goddammits,’he
castsashadowovermewhenheblocksthelightsfrombehind.

“Yourdrink,mylady.”
Ismile,buttuckitawaybeforeIturntofacehim.Itakethedrinkandsip.“Mmm.That’snice.”
“It’sweakasfuck,”hesays,grimacingasheswallows.“Andsweet.”
“Ilikesweetdrinks.”
“Sugar,”hesays.
“Hmm?”Iask,lookingupathim
“Yousmelllikesugar.Thesestupiddrinksyoulikemustleakthroughyourpores.”
“Couldbeworse.”Itakeanothersip,thenagulp.
“Well,”hesays,holdinghismargaritaglassoutwhenIcomeupforair.“Cheers.”
“Totheendofaveryconfusingday.”
“I’lldrinktothat.”
“Shouldwetalkaboutit?”Iask,notreallywantingtotalkaboutanyofit.
“What’stotalkabout?”
“Right.”
Webothturntothesoundofthecrashingwavesdownbelow,thenleanourforearmsontheterrace

railing,drinksinhand.

“Thisispretty.IbetNolanDelaneycomesherealot.”
Icatchasmallchucklefromhim.“How’dyouknowitwashis?”
“Arewetalkingaboutit?”Iask,lookingupathim.
“No.ButNolandoesn’tcomeheremuch.Ireallydidbuythisplaceformymom.ButIneeded

moneytobuythoseislands,soIsoldittoNolan.”Thenheadds,“Withtheunderstandingthathe’d
keepitsafeforme.Soitreallyisstillmine.”

“Exceptforthedeedandallthatgoodjunk.”ButI’mstillthinkingaboutthoseislands.
“Whyareyouhere?”heasks.
“Youbroughtmehere,”Isay.
“No.Imean,whyareyouhere?Inmylife.”
“Idon’treallyknow,Paxton.I’maskingmyselfthatverysamequestion.”
“You’vebeenstalkingme,”hesays.“Foralongtime,fromthelooksofit.”
“Yes.”Isigh.“Obviously.”
“Andnowyoudon’tlikewhatyousee.”
“I’mjustquestioningalotofthingstonight,that’sall.”
“Aboutme?Orwhyyou’vebothered?”
“Sowe’retalkingaboutit?”Iaskagain.“Becauseoncewestartthis,Pax,wewon’tbeableto

stop.”

He’ssilentforamoment.Ifinishmydrinkandholdtheemptyglassinmyhands,twirlingit

aroundasIlookoutovertheocean.There’sanicemoontonight.Notfull,notdark,notcrescent,just
enoughtoseethebeachandthetrackdownbelow.

“Youwanttogotobed?”
“Withyou?”Iask,atinglerunningupmybodyatthethought.He’ssofuckinghandsomeinthis

graysuit.Histieisloosearoundhisneck,probablyfromthefrustrationofmydrinkdemands,
becauseitwastightbeforeheleftforthestore.Ibitemylipashestaresatme,thattingleturninginto
somethingmoreurgentasIstareback.

“Whynot?Wecouldmakeitfun.Turnthisdayaround.Enditonahighnote.”
IhavedreamedaboutsexwithMr.Mysteriousforyears.SinceIwasakid,actually.AndIknow

we’vefuckedthreetimesalready,butthatwasdifferent.Thatwastheotherme.Thisistherealme.
Andnowthatmyplansareallfallingintoplace,itfeels…fake.LikeIforcedthis.

“Iwouldn’twanttoforceyou,”Isay,thatwordstuckinmymind.
Helaughs.Maybearealone.“You’rethemoststrikinggirlI’veeverdated.You’renotforcingme

todoanything.”

Hehasnoideahowwell-plannedthisrelationshipwas.“Arewedating?”Iask,suddenlysad.
Iknowhe’slookingatme.AndIknowI’mbeingweird.IalsoknowthatIshouldmakeadecision

rightnowandthenneverlookback.Eitherstayhere,sleepwithhim,andtellhimthetruthtomorrow
—sincewe’vedecidednottotalkaboutittonight—orwalkoutandneverlookback.

I’monthevergeofoptiontwowhenIfeelhishandsliparoundmywaist.“Whateveritisthat’s

botheringyou,canitwaituntiltomorrow?Orisiturgent?”

Ilikethefeelofhishandoverthethinfabricofmydress.It’slarge,andwarm,andwhenhepulls

mecloser,Ifeelweakwithwant.

“Thatwasalotofinformationtotakein.Fromyourmother.Don’tyouthink?”Ichancealookup

athimandregretitimmediately.He’ssomber.Idon’tthinkI’veeverseenhimsomber.

“Arewetalkingaboutit?”hewhispers.“Idon’tmindtalkingaboutit.Ifthat’swhatyouwant.”
Ileanupandkisshim.Softly.Rightonthemouth.Hedoesn’tkissmebackandwhenIopenmy

eyes,he’slookingatme.Hetakesthedrinkfrommyhand,setsbothglassesdownonanearbytable
andthenwrapshisarmsaroundmeandholdsmeclose.Hislipsareonmyneck,andthaturgent
feelingIhadturnsintounquenchabledesire.

Heholdsmyface,turningmetowardshim,andthenhislipsfindmineandwearekissingagain,

onlythistimeit’shimleadingtheway.Itstartsslow,hishandsdroppingbacktomywaist.Myhands
reachingupforhisshoulders.Hiskissremainssoft.Suchacontradictionbetweenthemanonthe
outsideI’vecometoknowandtheoneIstalkedalltheseyears

ButIdon’tknowhim,doI?Notonebit.
Hefrightensmealittle.Hisperfectlyplannedchildhood,hisunplannedpast,andhisunorthodox

present.Likehe’sdriftingthroughlife,justwaitingforsomethingtohappenashetakesbad
opportunityafterbadopportunityandtriestomakesomethinggoodoutofthem.

“Let’sgotobed,”Paxsaysagain.
Idon’tchallengehiminanywaythistime.Idon’tcarewhatthemeaningisbehindhiswords.
Hetakesmyhand,leadingmebackintothehouseandtowardsthestairs,takingthosetwoatatime

somymuchshorterlegshavetostruggletokeepup.Ashoefallsoffmyfoothalfwayup,theother
followsasecondlater.TheflooriscoolandfeelsgoodasIfollowhimacrossalongcatwalkthat
overlooksthelivingroomandintoadarkbedroom.

Hedoesn’tturnonthelightsandhewastesnotimetouchingme.Hisfingertipsareliftingupmy

dress,feather-lighttouchesacrossthebareskinofmyouterthigh.Kissingme,fistingmyhair,
findingthewetnessbetweenmylegsasthetinglebecomesurge,becomesstarvationandhungerfor
more.

“Takeoffmyclothes,”hesays.“Startwiththetie.”
It’salreadyloose,soitslipsoverhishead.

“Anddon’thurry.We’renotinahurry.”
I’vecometoexpectpassiontoequalfast,andhard,andoutofcontrol.Butthisisnothinglikethat

andyet…itispassionate.

Itugonhisshirt,liftingitoutofhispants.Myhandgrazesagainstthethickbulgehiddenawayin

there,makinghimbitemylipjustalittle.Justenoughtogetmyattention.

Oh,hehasmyattentionallright.
Idon’twanttothinkabouttomorrow.Maybetomorrowwon’tevencome?
“Needhelp?”heasks,whisperingthewordsintomymouth.
Isaynothing,justcontinuetofumblewiththebuttonsofhisshirtuntilIfinallygetthemallundone

andIdragtheexpensivefabricoverthecurveofhisshouldersandletitdroptothefloor.

Hishandsaredealingwiththethinstrapsofmydress.Theyslidedown,overmyshoulders,his

mouthmomentarilydistractedbymyskinashekissesandnips.Myarmsfallstraightdownmysides
asheslipsthetopofmydressdowntomywaist,cupsmybreastsinhispalms,pushingthemup
towardsmychin,squeezingthemuntilIletouta,“Ohhhhmmmmm,”sound.

“Ifyoutalk.Ifyousayoneword,”hesays,“Iwilllosecontrolandthiswillnotbeanythinglike

I’veimaginedit.”

Iwanttoaskhimhowhe’simaginedit.
ButwhyaskwhenIcanbepatientandseeformyself?
Hebendsdown,takingtheskirtofmydresswithhim,andthesilkyfabricwhooshestothefloor,

makingasmallbreezeagainstmyankles.

Hestands,kissingmeandnippingme.“Pants,Cindy.”
Myfistisaroundhiscock,squeezinghimthewayhewassqueezingmejustsecondsago.He’s

warm,andhard,andreadyforme.

“Pants,”hesaysagain.
Thebuttonflipsundone.Thenthezipperisopenandmyhandfindsthefleshofhiscock.Warm

andthick.

Pressureonmyshouldersasheguidesmebackwards.Ibumpintothebedandsitautomatically.He

dropstohiskneesinfrontofmyface,givingmeonemorekissbeforepushingmebackintothesoft
comforter.

Isigh,armsabovemyheadathissilenturging.Hismouthisonmyribs,histonguetracingacross

mystomach,hiskissesdroppinglowerandlowerandloweruntilhe’slickingmethroughmypanties.
Hisfingersfindtheirwayunderneaththefabric,pushingintome,makingmegaspwithpleasureand
surprise.

Isaynothingashismouthworksonthedelicatefoldofskinthatwillmakemecomeinamatterof

secondsifhedoesn’tbackdown.Twofingersinsideme.Stretchingandsearchingforthatspot…

“Ohhhhmmmmmmm,”Isayagain.
“Shhh.”Hevibratestherequestagainstmyclitandmyhandsflytohisbiceps,fingernailsdigging

in,mylegsrisingupandopentogivehimmoreaccess.Hestands,kicksoffhisshoes,dropshis
pantsandthenleansoverme.

“I’mgonnafuckyouforrealnow.”

ChapterSixteen-Paxton

Igrabheranklesandspreadherlegswide,easingoverthetopofher—mychesttoherbreasts,my

cockpositionedatherentrance.She’ssofuckingwet.Iwrapmyfistaroundmydickandflickherclit
afewtimes.Herwholebodyarchesinresponse.

“Youlikethat,”Iwhisper,continuingthemotion.
Shesaysnothing,hereyessqueezedtight,bitingherlip,fingernailsdiggingintomyskin.
Iplungeinsideherandshegoessoft.Ourhipsmovetogetherforamoment,kindaslow.Kinda

easy.ButthenIleandownintoherneckandbiteherearlobe,goingfasterandfasterassheresponds
tothisnewdirection.Hertitsbounceagainstme,legswrappedaroundmybody,kneespressed
againstmyhips.

Andshesmellslikesugar.
Everythingaboutherissweet.Thelittlemoansshe’smaking.Thescentofherhair.Herpinklips

andthoseperfectnipples.Ileaninandbiteherlip.HereyesopenandIstartpumpingherharder.
Slappingagainsttheinsideofherthighs.Everythingiswet,andhot,andtimejustneedstostandstill
sothisneverhastoend.

“I’mgonnacome,”shewhispers.
“Notyet—”
“Ohhhhhmmmmm.Shit.Oh,fuck,yes!Fuckme!Fuckme!”
“OK.”Ilaugh,enjoyingherlittleshow.“Yeah,OK.Come,sugar.Comealloverme.”
Herhandsaresuddenlyinmyhair.Twistingandpullinglikeshe’sholdingontome.Nevergonna

letmego.

“Pax,”shemoansout.She’sstillfuckingcoming.Ifeelwaveafterwaveafterwaveofcontractions

againstmydickasIslowdown.

“No,”shesays.“Harder!Harder,harder,harder…”
Ispeedbackup.Poundinghernow.Sheisgushingwithcome.Mydickslidesinandoutofher

pussy.Istandbackup,grabholdofherhipbones,andwatchthecurveofmycockenter,andalmost
exit,heropening.Thelipsofherpussywraparoundmyshaftlikeaglove.Likewearepuzzlepieces
fittingtogether.

Andthenherfingersarethere.Pushingagainstherclit.Rubbingasshecontinuestomoan.Islap

herhandaway.“Idon’tneedhelp.”

Shelaughs,eyesclosedagain.“Somethingiswrongwithme.I’msofuckinghornyrightnow.I

justcame—twice—andIneedmore.”Hereyesflyopenandshestaresatme.“Flipmeover.”

Nobodytellsmethattwice.Istepbackandflipherwholebodyover,pushherkneesup,pressher

headdownontothecomforterandtongueherwetpussy,flickingagainstherclit.

“Iforgottotellyou—”
“Arewetalkingaboutthis?”Iask,stilltryingtolickher.
“I’masquirter.”
“What?”
“Shit!”Shewigglesawayfromme,kickingoutandsquirmingherwayacrossthebed.
“Whatthefuckareyoudoing?”
“Idon’twanttoruinthisbed!I’mtellingyou,I’masquirterandthiswillbeprettymessyifwe

keepgoing.”

Igrabherbytheanklesandpullherbacktome,thenreachunder,liftherup,andhoistherover

myshoulder.

“Whatareyoudoing?”shesqueals.
“Takingthistotheshower.”
Iwalkacrosstheroom,flipthelightoninthemasterbath,takeherintothemassiveshower,and

setherdownonthemarblebench.“Don’tmove,”Isay,myeyesneverleavinghersasIreacharound
andfeelforthesteamswitchonthewall,flickiton,andthenlookhungrilyatmygirlasthemist
waftsaroundusinfloatingtendrils.“Squirter,huh?”

Shebitesherliptostiflealaugh.
“Andyouknowthishow?”Ishouldshutthefuckup.Idon’twanttoknowhowsheknows.ButI

can’thelpit.

Sheshakesherheadandgiggles.
“Cindy.”
“WhenImasturbate,itjust—itgets—overwhelmingandthen…youknow.Thathappens.Andthe

wayyouweretouchingmeinthere.Itfeltlike…”

“Masturbation?”Isaywithacock-eyedsmile.“Nicerecovery.”Idroptomyknees,pushherback

soshe’srestingagainstthewall,anddoitexactlythewayIwas.Quicklyflickingmydickagainsther
clit.Shegrabsontotheedgeofthestonebenchthistime,herkneespullingupautomatically.

“Likethis?”Iask,nevertakingmyeyesoffher.
Andthenshe’soutofcontrol.Hermoansturnintogasps,turnintoscreams.Icupmyhandover

hermouthautomatically,momentarilystartledasshewrithes,andkicks,andyes—squirts.

Idon’tthinkanythinghaseverturnedmeonsomuchinmyentirelife.
Itakeherhands,pullingheruptostanding.Shewobbles,likeshe’snotundercontrolyet.SoI

reachunderherthighs,liftherup,pressheragainstthewall,andpoundherharduntilthere’snoway
I’mstopping.Ipoundheruntilthereisnothingonmymindbutcominginsideher.Shesqueezesmy
hipswithherthighs,sotight.Sofocused.Myhandscomeuptoherface,glisteningfromthesteam,
andIkissher,andfuckheruntilshecomesagainandthereisonlyonethinglefttodo.

Finish.
“Fuck…yes…”Thatwasperfect.
Shecollapsesagainstmychest,spentandtired.IwalkbackwardsuntilIfindthebench,andthensit

downwithherinmylap.Herfaceisburiedinmyneck.Wearesweaty,andhot,andbreathinginthe
steamliketheairwearesuckingislifesaving.

Irestmyheadbackagainstthewall,closemyeyes,andletgo.MaybeforthefirsttimeinmylifeI

justletitallgo.Thepast.Thejobs.Thefuture.It’sgone.Wipedawayintheaftermathoflust.

Afterafewminutesofstillness,sheeasesbackward,getsup,turnsthesteamoff,andthenstartsthe

shower.Shemakesthewatercool,thengrabsmyhandandpullsmetomyfeet.

Wewasheachother.Hair,body,soul.
AndthenwedryeachotheroffandIleadherouttothebedroom.Collapsingontothesoft

comforter,notevenbotheringtogetunderneathit.Ijustgrabherandneverletgo.Pullherintomy
chest,wrapmyhandsaroundherbreasts,and…sleep.

Iwakeuptosunbeamingdownonmyface,reachingforCindy.Findinghergone.WhatdidI

expect?Iswingmylegsoverthesideofthebed,rubthestubbleonmyjawwithbothhands,andthen
standupandtakeapissinthebathroom.

ThatwasthebestsexI’veeverhadandIknow—Ijustfuckingknow—it’sonlythebeginningifI

gettoseeheragainafterwetalkaboutit.

Ipullonsomeboxerbriefsandwalktowardsthestairs,surprisedwhenIcrossthecatwalkandsee

her—backtome—cookingatthestoveintheopenkitchendownbelow.

Idon’tsayanything.Idon’tevenknowifIhavewordsforwhatthisis.WhatI’mdoing.ButIstop

atthetopofthestairswhenIseetheshoe.LefttherelastnightasIbroughtheruphere.

It’sfitting,right?CinderellaleavesashoeonthestairsandthenPrinceCharminghastogo

lookingforherwithonlythatoneshoeashisclue.

Theothershoeisfurtherdown.Andit’sagoodsign,Ithink.Thatwearenotthatstory.Shedidn’t

disappear.Idon’thavetogosearchingforher.Wecanspendthedaytogether.Noonetostopus.Start
somethingnew.Norules,orexpectations,orbaggagetodragusdown.

Well,that’safairytaletoo,Iguess.BecauseI’vegotbaggage,man.I’vegotahugeamountof

baggageandthere’snofairygodmothercomingtomakeitallbetter.

“Whatareyoudoing?”Iask,reachingthebottomofthesteps.
“Cooking,”shechirps,flippingsomethingoverinapan.ThisistheCindyIknow.Happy,

cheerful,easygoing.

“Where’dyougetfood?”Isay,comingupbehindherandwrappingmyarmsaroundherbodysoI

cansqueezehertitsandkissherneck.She’swearinganapron,ofallthings.It’syellow,likeherhair.
Withcookiesonit.Andatanktopandshorts.

Sugar.Goddammitifshedoesn’tsmelllikesugar.Evenafterstayinginsomeoneelse’shouse,

takingashowerwiththeirscentedsoapsandshampoos,andfryingbaconinapan.

“Iborrowedyourcarandwenttothestore.”
“You…left?”Iask.
“Icameback.”Shesaysitlikeshemightnot’ve.
“Where’dyougettheseclothes?”She’swearingmydressshirtandapairofman’sshortsthatmust

beNolan’s.Whichmeansshe’sbeensnoopingaroundthehousewhileIwassleeping.“Whattimedid
youwakeup?”

“What?”Shefeignsignorance.
Ifeignwithher.Arewetalkingaboutthisyet?Whosheis?Whereshecamefrom?Howsheknows

allthesethingsandwhyshe’sbeenwatchingme?

Ifwetalkaboutthat,well,thenwe’llhavetotalkaboutmymother.TheSilverPledge—whatever

thefuckthatis.Thoseenvelopes,thenote,thegame.“Smellsgood,”Isay.Icanplayalong.Idon’t
evenmindplayingalong.

“Whattimedoyouhavetobeintheofficetoday?”
How’dsheknowIhavetobeintheofficetoday?
Forgetit.We’renottalkingaboutit.
“Whattimeisit?”Iask.
“Eleventhirty.”
“Shit,”Isay,threadingmyfingersthroughmyhair.“Ihaveaclienttoday.”
“Iknow.Mr.Walker ’ssonwentmissingtwoweeksago.It’soutofcharacterandnoleadssofar.

Thepolicearen’tinterested,sohecametoyou.”

Wereallyshouldstarttalkingaboutthis.Butinsteadofstartingthatconversation,Isay,“Doyou

wanttohelpmefindhim?Icoulduseagoodassistant.”

Shelooksoverhershoulder,givesmeasidelongsmirk.“Youdon’tevenhavetoask.I’malready

onit.Ipulleduphisphonerecordsandeventhoughtheredoesn’tseemtobeapattern,thereis.A
numberhecallseveryTuesdayevening.He’scalleditwithoutfailforoverayear,butheonlycalls
onceaweek,soit’snotaneasypatterntoseewhenyoulookatallthehundredsofothercallsand
textshesends.He’sachattyguy.ButIfoundit.Sowecanstartthereifyouwant.”

Ipullherhairaside,givingmyselfbetteraccesstoherneck.AndIkissheragain.Shesighs,leans

againstmejustslightly.Justenoughtoletmeknowwedon’treallyneedtotalkaboutit.Denialisour
friendtoday.

Shesquirmsoutofmyembraceandgrabstwoplatessittingonthecounter.Shescoopsupsome

scrambledeggsfromanotherpan,thenthebacon,loadingupeachplateasthetoastpopsup.“Butter
thatforme,willyou?”

Thebutterissittingoutonthecounteralready,soft.SoIgrabthetoastandbutteritup,dropping

theslicesontheplatesjustasshewhisksthemawaytothediningtableinfrontofthebigpicture
windowthatoverlookstheracetrack.

“Imademimosas,too.Youlikemimosas,right?”Shesmilesatme.
Ihatechampagne.ButIsmilebackandsay,“AlmostasmuchasIlikemargaritasandmintjuleps.”
“Ihopeyou’rehungry,”shesays,smilingintoherglassasshetakesadrink.
“I’mgonnafuckyouonmydeskthisafternoon.”
Shealmostspitsouthermimosa.
“Andthenatmyhousetonight.”
“OK.”
“Andwe’renevertalkingaboutit.”
Sheswallowshardandnods.“OK.”It’ssofterthanthelastOK,filledwithreliefandmaybeeven

someregret.Butthensheforcesanothersmile,liftsherglassandsays,“Tonewbeginnings.”

“I’lldrinktothat.”
IdobelieveIwillcometolovethisdrink.Andallthegirlythingsthissweet-smellingCinderella

hasbroughtintomylife.Ifonlyforthefactthattheysymbolizesomething.

Notabeginning.Butanend.
Fuckthosesilverenvelopes.Fuckthatrapecharge.Fuckeverythingbutwhathappensfromthisday

forward.

It’sover.
IamPrinceCharminginthisstory,andIdecreethebullshittobeover.

ChapterSeventeen-Cindy

Everythingissmoothsailingforalmostaweek.WefindthatjerkofasonforMr.Walker.Hewas

onadrugbinge.Welookedupthatonenumberlaterthatdayandtracedittoaphonebooth—who
knewtheystillhavethosethings?—outsidetheDerryman’sPubinSantaMonica.Somehigh-end
dealerusesthatthingasanoffice.Sowefollowedhimand…well,allsortsofboringdrama
unfolded.Butthepointis,wecrackedthatcaseinthreedays.

Sincethen,Mr.Walkerhasreferredustomanyofhis“private”friends,ashelikestocallthem.

Justlittlethings.Oneguythoughthiswifewascheating.Onewomanthoughtherhusbandwas
cheating.AnditoccurstomenowthattheverynatureofPaxtonVance’sbusinesshasbegunto
change.

It’slike…It’slikehe’snotafixeranymore.Hereallyismyfictionaldetective.
Weneverdotalkaboutit.Eventhoughitfeels—tome,anyway—thatthere’sthisbigquestionmark

hangingoverus,wedon’ttalkaboutanyofit.Nothismother,notthedayattheraces,notmypast,
nothowconvenientlyIleftmylifeinMalibubehindandmovedinwithhim.Notanyofit.

ThephoneringsandIpickitup.“Mr.Vance’soffice.HowcanIhelpyou?”
“What?”
Oh,shit.Idonotneedmorethanonewordtotellmewhoisontheotherendofthisphone.
Mybrother,Oliver.
Iclearmythroat.“Mr.Vance’soffice,”Irepeat,usingafakehighvoice.“HowcanIhelpyou?”
“Sincewhendoeshehaveafuckingsecretary?”
“Assistant,”Isay,stillusingmyhighvoice.
“Ishethereornot?”
Hmmm.Ineverknewmybrotherwassuchadick.“No,I’msorry,sir.He’soutoftheofficefor

the…week.”

IsmileandwaveatPaxthroughtheclosedglassdoortohisoffice,thenshakemyhead,stickout

mytonguelikethisisnothingbutastupidsalescall,andhelaughs,lookingbackdownathis
paperwork.

“Thefuckingweek?Whenexactlywillhebeback?Itriedhiscell,buthe’snotpickingup.Why

isn’thepickingup?”

He’snotpickingupbecausehelefthiscellathometodaybyaccident.JesusChrist,whatifOliver

comeshere?No.No.He’sallthewayoverinColorado.Thisisnobigdeal.“He’s…intheExuma
Cays,Mr…”

“Shrike,”Oliversays,thoroughlyannoyedwithmenow.It’snotmyfaultPaxisoffgallivanting.

Well,ifhewasoffgallivanting,itwouldn’tbemyfault.AndOliverdoesn’tknowhe’snot.So…dick.

“Mr.Shrike,Mr.Vanceisgoneforthewholeweekandwon’tbebackuntilnextMonday.He’sona

break.Notechoutthere.”

“Sincewhen?Iknowdamnwellhe’sgotinternetandTVonthatfuckingisland.”
Shit.Think,Cindy.“He’sonthatotherisland.”Yeah.Thatotherisland.He’sgottwo,hetoldme

that.

“Sincewhendoeshehavetwo—nevermind.LethimknowIcalledifhecallsin.Andtellhimtohit

meback,pronto.”

ThephonegoesdeadandIjuststareatitforasecond.
“Whowasthat?”Paxasksfromhisopendoor.
“Um…”Shit.Howmuchdidhehear?“Ihavenoidea.Somerudesalesmanaskingaboutcopy

machines.”

“Copymachines?”
Ihavetocontrolmyeyerollatmyself.Copymachines?Whothefucksellscopymachines

anymore,Cinderella?Peoplejustuseprintersinanofficethissize.

Paxnarrowshiseyesatme.Suspicion,Irealize.
“Hewashandsomeinaruggedsortofway.”
Thenarroweyeswiden.Asmile.
“Arealman’smanwithhisrolled-upsleevesandloosetie.”
“Isthishowyouseeme?”Paxtonasks.
“SmartenoughtogetintoIvyLeagueschools.Wiseenoughtogetbywithoutthem.”
“Shit,”hewhispersunderhisbreath.
“AndthefirsttimeIwalkedintohisoffice,desperateforhelp—”
“Oh,Igetit.Thisissomenineteen-fortiesdetectivenoir?”
“—allIcouldthinkaboutwashowlongitwouldtakehimtobendmeoverhisdesk—”
Nowhelaughs,butstiflesitwithaclosedfistinfrontofhismouth.
“—hikeupmyskirt,andtakemefrombehind.”Istoptosmilewithhim.God,he’scute.“Hoping,

whenhefinallydidthat,hewouldn’tseetheruninmystockings.Thebrokenbuckleonmyshoe—”

“Downtroddendame,”Paxsays.“Nicetouch.”
“—thecheapscentofmyperfume.”
“Sugar,baby.LikeyousteppedoutofabakeryeverytimeIseeyou.There’snothingcheapabout

smellingsweet.”

Ihavehimnow.Thatphonecallislongforgotten.But…it’sfun.SoIkeepgoingwithmylittle

narration.“Andhe’djustlosehimselfinmylust.”

“Lust,huh?”
Itakeadeepbreath.Happy.HappierthanI’veeverbeen,Ithink.“You’refun,youknowthat?”
“You’refun,”hesays,comingcloseenoughtograbmywaistandtwirlmearound.“Isthishowthe

storystarts,then?You’readamelookingforhelpfromthedown-and-outunorthodoxdetective?”

Igouponmytiptoesandkisshim,ourmouthsfittingtogetherinthatperfectpuzzle-pieceway

theydo.Hishandsslipfrommyhipstomyass,andhegivesmycheeksasqueezebeforehikingup
myskirt,exposingmybareskintothecoolofficeair.

“Iwon’tbeabletofindthatruninyourstocking,sugar.Becauseyou’renotwearinganythingbut

thisthong.”

“I’mnotreallyastockingkindofgirl,butIcanbeifitturnsyouon.”
“ShouldIpickupatrenchcoat?”
Ilaugh,thenleanintohisneckandjustsigh.
“What?”heasks,nuzzlingmyhair.
“Ilikeyou.”
“Well.”Hekissesmyearlobe.“That’sperfect.BecauseIlikeyoutoo.”
“Youdon’tthinkI’mweird,eventhoughIcanbealittleoverthetop?”
“You?”Hepullsbackinmocksurprise.“No.”
“Iknow,right?”Wesmileateachother.WhydidIstartthestoryagain?Oh,yeah.Phonecall.What

phonecall?

“You’redefinitelyunique,MissSugar.”
“MissSugar,”Ihuff.

“Andimpulsive.Andquitethelittleliar.”
“What?”Shit.Whatdoesheknow?
“Iownthesubshop,”hesays,fakingahighvoice.“Iwascheckingonyouinthere.”Henodshis

headtohisoffice.

“Dammit.Iwasgonnatellyou.”
“Idon’tcare.”
“Iliedaboutthesubshop.IwasbribingthedeliverydriversoIcouldmeetyouonceInoticedyou

wereorderingtakeout.”

“Sowheredoyoulive?Wheredoyoukeeptheclothesyoukeepgoinghomefor?”
“Withyou.Now.”Ismile,notsurehowthiswillgosincethisiskindofthestartoftalkingaboutit.

“ButIwaslivingoutofabackpackinatraileratthecampgroundupPCH.”

“Notatrust-fundbaby?”
“Oh,Iam.”Ilaugh.“Butmyfatherlikestoparcelthatshitoutalittleatatime.There’sallkindsof

restrictionsonit.Ididn’tevengetamonthlyallowanceforcollege.Everysemesterhetookatripout
tomyschooltopaymytuitioninperson.IgotalittlebitwhenIturnedeighteen.Justenoughtobuya
carandliveinthedorms.ThenIgotalittlebitmoreatgraduation.ButIuseditforgradschool.You
seethepattern,I’msure.”

“Soyou’rebroke?”
“Doesitmatter?”
“No,”Paxsays.“No,I’mjustaskingifyou’rebroke.”
“Notbroke.Iamaninvestigator.IhavejobsIgetoffmybrother ’swebsite.”
Holymotherfuckingshit.Whatthehelliswrongwithyou,CindyShrike?CinderellaVaughnhasno

brother.Iscrambletorecoverfrommymistake.

“Well,I’mdoingyourjobsnow,”Isay.“SoI’mnotworkingonanythingmyself.ButIgetby.I’m

notbroke.”

“Thetrustfundisover?”
Whew.Hedidn’tnotice.“Doyougetatrustfund?”Iask,followinghislead.
“Me?Ha.”Helaughs.“No.Mymotherisadig-yourself-out-of-your-own-holekindofwoman.But

Idon’tneedatrustfund.Imadesmartdecisionsbackintheday.”

He’sgotthisweirdsmirkonhisface.Likehe’spullingsomethingoveronthewholeworld.

“What?Didyoustealitorsomething?”

“Stealit?WhywouldIstealit?That’saweirdquestion.YouremindmeofMatch,youknowthat?”
Oh,fuck.Iwastotallysafeaboutthecallandnowwe’rerightbackwhereIstarted.“Who?”Iask

innocently.

“OliverShrike?Mr.Match?Oneofthefivewhowasaccused?It’sfunny,whenheandIhadour

firstmoneyconversation,heaskedmethesamething.Saidhisfatherpulledsomekindofconwhen
hewasyoungerandeversincehefoundthatout,hewas…”

Ilosetrackofhiswords.IwastherewhenOliverfoundoutthekindofstuffmydadusedtodo

withhisfriendsbeforeanyofuskidswereborn.Itwascrazy.Arielwastheonewhodugupthedirt.
Justacasual,Let’sseewhatkindofdirtwecanfindonDad,kindofthing.Weneverexpectedwhatwe
found.

“Cindy?”
“What?”Paxislookingatmeexpectantly.Likehe’swaitingforananswer.“Sorry.Ijustkindof

spacedoutforaminutethinkingaboutyourMisterfriend.”

“Hmmm.”
Whatkindofhmmmwasthat?Suspicious?“Ithoughtyouweregonnafuckmeonthedesk.”
“Isthatright?”Paxsays.

“Wewentfromtitillatingfantasytomoney.Noonelikestotalkaboutmoney,Pax.Butsex,”Isay

withawink.“Nowthere’safunsubject.”Ileanbackintohisneck,tryingmybesttorecapturethe
moment.But…it’sgone.

Justthenaknockonthedoorpullsusapart.IwhirlaroundtoseethatmanwhocametovisitPax

upinMalibu.Liam.

“Whatthehellareyoudoinghere?”Paxsays.“Itoldyou,Liam.I’mnotinterestedinyour

problemoryourjob.”

“Who’sthis?”Liam’sattentionturnstomeasIhastilyfinishstraighteningoutmyskirt.
“Nooneyouneedtoremember,”Paxsays,turningtome.“Cindy,canyougograbmelunchfrom

thatsandwichshopdownthestreet?Getmyusual,please.”

Ishekidding?Tryingtogetmeoutofherewithoutthisweirdonoticingmetoomuch?Orblowing

meoff?“Sure,”Isay,notmeetinghiseyesasIpickupmypurseandheadtowardsthedoor.

“Let’stalkinhere,”Paxtonsays.IchanceonelookbackbeforeIleave,buttheydisappearintohis

office.

ChapterEighteen-Paxton

Liamissmilinglikehe’sgotasecret.Itpissesmeoffthathecameintomylifeuninvitedforthe

secondtime.ButIkeepthetemperincheckasIclosethedoorbehindhim,thenwalkaroundmydesk
andtakeaseat.

Thepolitethingtodowhentalkingtoanequalistositinoneofthetwochairsfacingthedesk,

withtheguestinthechairnexttoyours.ButIsitbehindthedeskforareason.

I’mtheoneinchargehere,andIwanthimtoknowit.
Plus,hisbackistothedoorandIcanseestraightthroughtheglasstoCindy’sdesk.AndIhavethe

phoneinfrontofme.“Letmejustputthison‘donotdisturb’incaseCindycomesbackandwants
to…disturbus.”

Liambrushesapieceoflintoffhisnavybluesuitcoat,likehecouldn’tcareless.“Pretty,thatone.

Butalittlesluttyforamanofyourbreeding,don’tyouthink?Herasswashangingoutherskirtwhen
Icamein.”

“Whyareyouhere?”Iaskcalmly,tryingmybestnottoleanacrossthisdesk,grabLiamHenryby

thetie,andchokethismotherfuckertodeath.

“Mr.Corporate,”hesays,takingoutanotepadfromhissuitcoatpocket.“Doyouknowhisreal

name?”

“Um.”Ilaugh.“WestonConrad.TheguyI’veknownfortenyears.”
“Andhowwelldoyoureallythinkyouknowhim?”Liamissmilinglikehe’sgotasecret.
“Look,ifyou’vegotsomethingtosay,thensayit.CorporateandIaren’tbesties.We’renot

partners,orhell,evenfriendsfrommyperspective.Idon’tgiveafuckwhoheis.Butyouobviously
thinkIshould,solet’shearallyourlittlesecretsabouthimandhopefullythatwillexplainawayyour
bizarrestalkingandIwon’thavetokillyouoverit.”

Liamnarrowshiseyes,wonderingifthat’sathreat,ajoke,orapromise.
Damn,Ihadn’trealizedhowgooditfelttobethebadguysinceI’vebeenhangingoutwithCindy

doinghercutelittledetectivejobs.ButIsortofmissthesemoments.

“Well,hisnameisn’tWestonConrad,forone.Andfortwo,hestolesomethingfrommeavery

longtimeago.SomethingIwantback.”

“I’llaskthisagain.AndI’lltrytobeasconciseasIcansoyouwillstopwastingmytime.What

doesthishavetodowithme?”

“I’dthoughtyou’dliketoknowwhosetyouupbackincollege.Forgiveme,”hesays,standingup

andbuttoninghiscoat,“forinterruptingthenooneryouwereabouttohavewithyoursecretary.”

“Sitdown,”Icommand.
“Oh,soyou’reinterestedallofasudden?”ButLiamunbuttonshissuitcoatandsits.Smilinglikea

catwithacanary.

“Corporatewasaccusedtoo.Itmakesnosensethathewastheonewhosetusup.”ButIhave

alwayshadaproblemwithCorporate.Imean,IhavealwayshadaproblemwithRomantictoo.But
Corporate,heneverdidaddup.Romantichasaprettypaper-trailedpastleadingfrompointAtopoint
Binanicestraightline.

Corporate’spastislikeadot-to-dotpuzzlethatIcouldneverquitefigureout.MatchandFiveandI

workedonitrelentlesslytenyearsagowhenthesechargescameup.AndeventhoughFivehasgotto

beoneofthemosttalentedhackersinmoderndaythatIknowof,wecameupwithverylittlebefore
hewenttoboardingschoolasateenager.Whichmeanspartofhispastwashiddenofftherecordfor
areason.

“Well,hedidsetyouup.Hedid.AndIhavealltheproofandallthedetailsandyouwillgetevery

bitofit…oncehe’sgone.”

“Gone?”Iask.“Youwantmetokillhim?”Ilaugh.
“IneedhimdeliveredtomealivesoIcangetthisinformationoutofhim,butyourrun-of-the-mill

accidentwillsufficeoncethatbusinessistakencareof.”

“I’mnotaprofessionalkiller,Liam.Youknowthis.”Ihavenoproblemkillingpeople,butit’snot

whatIdo.Ilikepeopletothinkitis—keepsthemscared.Distant.ButIdon’tkillpeopleformoney,
forfuck’ssake.That’sinsane.MymotherwouldneverrespectmeifIwasapaidassassin.

“Youfixthings.Ineedafix.”
“IonlyfixthingsifIhaveallthedetails.”
Hereachesintohispocketagain,pullsoutaneatlyfoldedstack—kindofthickstack—oflegal-

sizedpapers.“Andhere’sourproblem,”hesays,grabbingtheMontBlancpenoffmydeskand
tappingitonthewood.“Ihavethosedetails,andyoucanhavethemtoo,ifyousignthisnon-
disclosureagreement.”

Ilaugh.Kindaloud.“Firstofall,”Isay,“Idon’tsignanythingwithoutalawyerlookingitover

first.Andsecondofall,I’mneversigningthat,nomatterwhat.Soifyou’dliketopayformy
services,it’sgoingtobedonewithmyownstandardnon-disclosureagreementoritwon’tbedoneat
all.”

“Fairenough,”Liamsays,foldingthewadoflegalpapersbackupandplacingthembackinhis

coatpocket.“I’llsignyouragreement.”

He’ssettingmeup.I’monehundredpercentsureofit.Buthedoeshavemyattention,soIgetup,

gotothefilecabinet,andpulloutthestandardnon-disclosureagreementIhavewithallmyclients.

IslapthesinglepieceofpaperdownonmydeskinfrontofLiamandtakemyseatbackbehindit.
Liamsigns.
Idragthepaperovertomyside,sign,thenputthependownandsteeplemyfingersundermychin.

“Let’shearit.”

“WestonConradisn’thisrealname.TheConradsaren’tevenhisparents.”
“Hmm,”Isay.“Goon.”
“He’smixedupwithagirlrightnow.Someonefromhispast.Doyourememberher?Victoria

Arias?Theyweredatingwhenthatchargecameagainstthefiveofyou.”

“Kindof.Dark,right?Pretty?Wild?”
“Yes.”Liamnods,smilingbig.“I’dcallhermorethanpretty,though.Butyes.That’sher.They

brokeup—”

“Allthetime,”Isay,recallingthatlittlevolatilerelationshipwithease,nowthathernamehasbeen

mentioned.

“Butsheisthereasonyougotinallthattrouble,Paxton.Her.Andhim.Theyarethereason.And

whileIcouldreallycarelessaboutMissArias—shehasherownkeeperwhowilltakecareof
businessonthatend—IverymuchneedMr.ConradtounderstandthatIhavenotforgottenwhathe
didtome.”

“Andyouwantmetoteachhimthatlesson?”
“Justgethimoutofthecountry.That’sallIask.Ihaveateamofpeoplereadytotakeoveronce

thathappens.Youwon’tevenhavetodirtyyourhands.”

“Otherthansettinghimup?”
“Correct.”

“Whyme?”ButIknowtheanswerbeforehesaysit.
“BecauseConradtrustsyou.Regardlessofwhetherornotyouarebesties,asyouputit.You’re

partofhisinnercircle.”

“Andhesetmeup.Thatmakeszerosense.”
“Oh,butitdoes.Youjustneedmoreinformation.InformationIwillprovideoncehe’soutofthe

country.”

Ipickupmypenandtapthedesk,thinkingitover.
“ItoldyouthatfirsttimeIcalled.YourMisterfriendsarebecomingaproblem.Thatwholedebacle

withAllenandPerfectcould’vebeenaPRnightmare.”

Mac.
“AndnowyourRomanticfriendisdirectingalotofattentionbacktothefiveofyou.”
Nolan.
“Corporateneedstopayhisdues.Heowesme.AndonceItellyouthetruthabouthim,you’llwant

yourrevengeaswell.”

West.
It’slikeachecklist,isn’tit?Onebyone,weareallbeingdrawnbackin.“I’llthinkaboutit.”
“Youhaveonenight,Mr.Vance.OnenightbeforeItakethingsintomyownhandsanddealwith

thesituationanotherway.”Hestands,buttonshiscoatjacket.Says,“Youwon’tlikethatway,Iassure
you.SoI’llexpectatextthiseveningsayingyou’llacceptmyofferandanoutlineofhowyouwilldo
asIask.UsethesamenumberIusedthatfirsttimeIcalled.”

Hewalksout,closingmyofficedoorbehindhim.
Isitforamoment,thenrememberthatCindycamebackandduckedunderthedesk,justasI

pushedtheintercominsteadofthe“donotdisturb”buttononthephone.

Shestandsupandlooksatmethroughtheglassdoorsofmyoffice.Iopenthedoorandask,“Did

youcatchallthat?”

Shenods.“What’sgoingon?”
“Ihavenoclue.ButthatshitthatwentdownwithNolanlastweekwasnotcool,man.Imightnot

likethatassholeallthatmuch,buthehadnothingtodowithanythingthathappenedtousbackin
school.Iknowitforafact.Isawhisdirtandthat’sallitis.It’sdirtyasfuck,forsure.Butit’sgot
nothingtodowiththerapecharge.”

“SoitreallywasWestonConradwhosetyouup?”
“Idon’tknow.Idon’tfuckingknow.”
“Whatareyougonnado?”Shehesitates.“You’rereallygoingtoworkwiththatguy?Pax?He’s

unstable,clearly.He’sfuckingcreepy.”

“Yeah,”Isay,lettingoutalongbreath.“Yeah,you’reright.I’mgonnapretendtothinkaboutitfor

afewhours,thensendhimatextsayingno.”

Shesmiles.“Good.Good.Iknowthisistherightanswer.Youneedtostayawayfromhim.”
“Let’stakethedayoff,huh?Gobackhome.Grillsomesteaks,makesomestupidgirlydrinks,and

justforgetaboutLiamHenry.”

Cindysmiles.“That’sdefinitelythebestideaI’veheardallday.”
ItrynottobesilentandintrospectiveaswestartthedrivebackuptoMalibu,butIdon’thavetotry

toohardbecauseCindyischattyenough.Itkindofsucksthatshe’spartofthis.ThatIdraggedher
intosomethingthat’sgotnothingtodowithher.EspeciallysinceLiamalreadysawher,soevenifI
wantedtokeepheroutofthiswholemess,itwouldn’tbeeasytopulloffnow.

Girlfriendsaredangerous.
Matchknowsthisbetterthananyone.It’swhyhefucksthemandleavesthemasfastashecan.
Girlfriendsarenothingbutcollateraldamagewaitingtohappen.

ChapterNineteen-Cindy

“Sowhatdoyouthink?”
“Hmmm?”Paxsaysashechangeslanes.Thetrafficonthe405ishorrendous.Andwearestilla

longwayfromMalibu.

“Mydetectivestory?”
“Oh,”hesays,brakinghardashetriestomaneuverintothenextlane.
“Whereareyougoing?”
“We’retakingPCH.Ican’thandlethisshitanymore.Ireallyneedtothinkaboutmoving.”
“Movingwhere?”
“Huh?”
“God,areyouevenlisteningtome?”
Paxsmilesandshootsmeawink.“Sorry.I’mjustpreoccupiedwithroadrageatthemoment.”He

swervesover,thenagain,andtakestheofframpatElSegundo.“Iloveyourstory.Icantotallysee
youinoneofthosesexypencilskirtswiththethick-heeledpumpsandyourhairupinafortiesdo.
You’drockthatshit,Sugar.”

“Thanks,”Isay,blushing.“You’drockatrenchcoatandfedoratoo.SoIgottheideawhenIwas

sevenandmyparentstookthismurdermysterytrainupinthemountains.”

“Mountains?Ithoughtyoulivedonafarm?Yourdad’splacecomesupasSeverance,Colorado.”
Shit.WhyamIsostupid?
“Well,yeah,”Isay,recoveringquickly.“Butyouknow,themountainsaren’ttoofaraway.We’dgo

theresometimes.”

“Don’ttheyhaveoneofthosemurdermysterytrainsinCanonCity?IthinkIrememberMatch

tellingmeaboutitonce.That’sprettyfarfromSeverance,right?”

Damn,he’sreallyuponhisColoradogeography.“That’stheone,”Isay,nervouslyswallowing.

DoesheknowmorethanIthinkhedoes?IshetestingmetoseeifI’lllie?AnddidIevertellhimI
wasfromSeverance?Nope.I’mprettysureIdidn’t.

Hewascheckinguponyouagainthisafternoon,Cindy.Duh!You’redoinggoodpretendingthis

Liamshitdidn’trattleyourworld.Keepgoing…

“Asshole,”Paxsays,flippingthefingertosomeguywhocutshimoff.“I’mdefinitelygettingout

ofCaliforniafirstchanceIget.Sorry,”hesays,lookingatme.“Goon.Themurdermysterytrain?”

“Yeah,”Isay,droppingmysuspicions.Ithinkhe’sjustdistractedwithdriving.I’mbeingparanoid.

“Sotheywereallincostume,youknow?”

“Yeah,Icantotallypictureit.Howoldwereyou?Didyouhaveblondepigtails?”
Ismile,rememberingthatday.Itwasmyparents’anniversary.ButifOliverwastalkingaboutit

once,hemight’vementionedthat.SoIdon’tbringitup.“Iwasyoung,Idon’trememberhowold.But
IwasobsessedwithHumphreyBogartmoviesafterthat.”

“Ha,”Paxsays.“Oliverlikesthosetoo.MustbeaColoradothing.”
Idon’tmove.Heknows.Hehastoknow.
“Arewetalkingaboutit?”Iask.
“What?Why?Doyouwanttotalkaboutit?”
“Doyou?”

“No,”hesays.“No.We’reforgetting,remember?”
OK,yeah.I’mparanoid.“Soanyway,IwasobsessedwiththeoldmoviesandIstarteddressingup

andstuff.Mymom’snotintothatkindofthing.Vintageclass,andallthat.She’smoreofa…”Andmy
stupidassisjustabouttosay“bombshell,”whenIstopshort.Hewilldefinitelyknowmymotherasa
bombshell.Olivercan’thaveleftthatout.MyfathercallsherBomballthetime.AndIknowPaxhas
beentoourhouseatleasttwice.BothtimeswhileIwasincollege.Soheneversawmethere.Butstill.
Onceyouseemymother,youformanopinionandyouneverforgetit.“MoreDorisDay.”

“Awww,youtakeafterher,right?Sweetandshit?”
“Yup.”Ilaugh,picturinganyonecallingmymothersweet.Hell,anyonecallingmesweetisjustas

funny.Wearesoalike.“Anyway,Igotintoit.WedidDeathofaSalesmaninhighschoolandIplayed
thepartoftheWoman.”

“Thesexytramp?”
“Yeah.”Ilaugh.“Igetitnow,ofcourse.ButbackthenIjustwantedtoweartheclothes.”
“Didyounailit?”
“Brokealeg.Butreally,itjustfannedtheflamesofmyobsession.”
Paxgetsquietallofasudden.Shit,whatdidIsay?
“Me?”heasks,lookingoverforasecondbeforereturninghiseyestothehighway.“WasIyour

Bogart?”

Iglancepasthim,totheocean,whichisflyingbyaswetravelnorth.“Maybealittle.”
“Weshouldn’ttalkaboutit.”
“Right.”
“Weshouldjustenjoyit.”
“Yeah,”Isaysoftly.
“ButIloveyourstory.Therealoneandthefairytaletoo.”
Ileanbackintomyseat,relaxing.OK,maybeheknowssomething?Buthecan’tknowI’m

Oliver ’ssister.Ijustdon’tthinkhe’dbesocalmaboutthat.

“Wecanplaydress-upifyouwant,”Paxsays.
Mysmileishugeatthatoffer.“You’ddressup?”Ilaughjustpicturingit.“Inatrenchcoatand

hat?”

“Sugar,ifyouputonsomestockingsandredlipstick—andmaybenothingelse—I’lldoanything

youask.Youwantafantasynight,I’mthere.”

Ileanoverandplacemyhandonhisdick.
Hegrins,changeslanes,andpullsoffthehighway.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
“That’sasignalIdon’tignore,Cinderella.Youwantsexytimes?Yougetsexytimes.”
“It’snotevendarkout.”
“Whocares?IgotaboatatMarinaDelRey.Wannaseemyboat?”Hecupshishandovermine,

makingmesqueezehisalreadythickcock.

Ileanoverandstartkissinghisneck.“Yeah,let’sseetheboat.”
“PlaywithyourselfwhileIdrive,”hesays,notlookingatme.“Iwantyouwetandreadytheminute

wegetthere.”Andthenhetipshissunglassesupandlooksmeintheeyes.“Donotsquirtinmycar.”

Iholdupthreefingers.“Scout’shonor.”Welaugh.
“Butseriously,”hesays,staringoveratme—laughgone,smilegone.“PlaywithyourselfwhileI

drive.Andstartbytakingthosepantiesoff,onelegatatime.”

God,heishot.
Ikickoffmysandals,placebothfeetonthedashboard,andthenliftmyhipsupjustenoughto

wigglemypantiesdowntomythighs.

He’swatchingfromthecornerofhiseye.
“Keepyoureyesontheroad,Mr.Vance.I’mjustfeelingalittlewarmandneedsomerelief.But

thisisnoneofyourconcern.”

ThatsmileiswortheverybitofthecheesinessIfeelrightnow.
“Anicewoman,”hesays,givingmeonemorelookasthepantiesmaketheirwaypastmyknees,

slidedownmycalves,andstopatmyankles,“wouldn’tneedthekindofrelieftakingyourpantiesoff
wouldprovide.”

“I’mnotanicewoman,Detective.I’maslut.Itoldyou,Ineedhelp.Andyoublewmeoffbackin

yourofficebecauseIhavenomoney.Well,justbecauseIcan’tpayyouinmoney,Detective,doesn’t
meanIcan’tpayyouatall.”

Hissmileissobig.Buthekeepshiseyesontheroadashegetshislaughundercontrol.
“Considertheshowyou’reabouttogivemeadownpayment.NowturnyourbodysoIcansee

you,andthenopenyoursluttylegswide.”

Idowhathewants.Itakeoffmyseatbelt,anglemyselfwithmybackagainstthedoor,andthen

openmylegs.

“Yourskirt’sintheway,MissSugar.”
“That’sMissSugarCookietoyou,Detective.”
He’salmostgigglinganditmakesmehappythatIhavethepowertomakehimhappy,evenafter

thatfucked-upvisitfromLiamHenrythisafternoon.

“Pullyourskirtupandplaywithyourself,”hesaysinalowvoice,thenglancesatmewithheavy

eyes.“ThisisthegameIwanttoplayrightnow.”

“Don’tworry,”Iwhisperinasoothingtone.“I’mjustgettingstarted.”Ipullmyskirtupandgive

himagoodlook.Westopatalight.Icanseethemarinaafewblocksaheadofftotheleft.“Doyou
wantmetodoitlikethis?”Isay.“Pushingmyfingersinsidemyself.”

“YoulittleDisneywhore.”Buthelickshislips.AndIpicturehismouthwheremyfingersare,

lickingandlappingagainstmypussy,andIhavetoclosemyeyes.

“I’mnotawhore,”Isayinmybestsultrydame-in-distressvoice,thenopenmyeyesagain.“I

forgottotellyou,I’mavirgin.”

Thistimehedoeslaugh.Loudly.“Areyou?”
“Yes,”Isay.“SoImightnotwanttodoanythingtoofuntoday,Detective.I’msavingmyselffor

PrinceCharming.”

ThelightturnsgreenbutPaxtonwatchesmeasmyfingertipscaressthewetfoldsbetweenmylegs

untilthecarbehindushonks.

Hestartsforwardandthenturnsleft,towardsthemarina.“Areyougoingtoteaseme,Miss

Cookie?”

“Oh,”Isay,moaningalittle.“Iloveteasingmen.It’showIgotintothissituationinthefirstplace.”
“Youpretendedtobeawhore?Butwhentheyfoundoutyouwereavirgin,they—”
“Threatenedmylife,”Ipretend-sob.“You’llhelpme,won’tyou?”
“Tellmewhatkindofhelpyouneed,MissCookie.”
“Ijustcan’tstop”—Ipretend-sobagain—“teasing.Helpmestop.Please.”
Hechucklesinasexyyou-have-no-idea-how-much-I-love-this-gamekindofway.“I’lldomybest,

ma’am.”

“Jesusfuck,arewethereyet,Pax?Ireallydoneedyoutolickmypussy.”
ButallIgetinresponseisaslysmile.
Oh,shit.Ihaveafeelinghe’sgoingtotakemylittlefantasyfartherthanIexpected.

ChapterTwenty-Paxton

IholdherhandaswewalkthroughthemarinatowardstheslipwhereIkeepmyboat.Theplaceis

busy.Crowdedandbustlinguntilwegetawayfromtheclubhouseandontothedock.

“Thisisnice.Ilovethewater.OnethingthatInevergotmuchofgrowingup.”
“Yeah,”Isay.“It’sperfectrightnow.”Ilookdownatherandsmile.“Betterthanlettingyoutease

mewhileIsitintrafficreadytomurdersomeone.”

ShelaughsalittleasIputmyhandonthesmallofherback,directinghertogoright.“Youknow,”

shesays,“justwhenIthinkI’vegotyoufiguredout,youpullsomethinglikethisonme.”

“Likewhat?”
“Aboat.Islands.Houses.Allofit.”
“Well,youcan’thaveanislandwithoutaboat.”
“It’sonthewrongcoast,though.YousaidyourislandswereintheExumaCays.”
“Oh.”Ilaugh.“Ihaveaboatonthatcoasttoo.Besides,ifyouhavetwoislandsyoureallyneedtwo

boats.”

“Isthatyourrationale?”
“Mystory,”Isay.“AndI’mstickingtoit.Butthatbringsusbacktoyourstory,MissCookie.After

you.”

Istopbesidemyboatandholdherhandasshestepsup,thenfollowheronboard.Hereyesare

wideandexcited.Butprettysoonthey’llbeheavywithlust.“Icanhelpyouwithyourlittleproblem,
butsinceyoucan’tpay,I’llneedsomethingelsefromyou.”

ShebitesawaythesmileasIstarttountietheboat.“Wait,we’regoingsomewhere?”
“Youwantthiswholemarinatohearyouscream,‘Fuckme,Detective.Fuckmeharder?’OKby

me,Sugar.”

“Pax…”
“Ofcoursewe’regoingsomewhere.What’dyouthink?Iwasbringingyouhereforaquickie?I

don’tdoquickies.NotwithgirlsIlike.”

Ablushflushesherwholefacepinkforamoment.Ibetherbreastsareblushingtoo.“Detective,”

shesaysinalowvoice.“Thisisallhighlyunorthodox.”

“Isolvethecases,MissCookie.Whetherornotyoulikemymethodsisnoneofmyconcern.Now,

foryourownsafety,I’mgonnaneedyoutogodownbelow,takeoffyourclothes,andwaitformeon
thecouch.”

“Formyownsafety?”sheasks.
“It’seitherthatortakeyourchanceswithmerippingthemoffyou.”
HermouthopensinanOofsurprise,herhandcoveringitinamomentofshock.“Detective,that’s

inappropriate.”

Ifinishuntyingthemooringoftheboatandstepin,makingsuremyhandsrestonbothofherhips

asIgentlymoveheraside.“AndI’lltellyounow,ifyouwantmyhelp,youhavetofollowmy
directionsatalltime.”

“Alltimes?”Shetiltsherheadatme,eyebrowraised.
“Alltimes.I’llgiveyoutillthecountoffivetogetdownbelow,orI’llripyourclothesoffright

hereinfrontofthewholemarina.”

Sheputsahandoveronebreast,simultaneouslycoveringherselfandindicatingshockinone

perfectgesture.

“One…”
Sheturnstowardsthestairsthatleadtothesalon,butIcatchhermuttering,“Shewasconflictedand

yetherbodywasbecomingwarmwiththeanticipationofwhatwastocome.”

Canthisgirlgetanycuter?
IsmilebigasIstarttheboatandbackoutoftheslip,thenmakemywayoutofthemarinatowards

theoceanatapainstakinglyslowspeed.AllIthinkaboutishowshe’swaitingformedownbelow.
Hernakedbodystretchedoutontheleathercouch.Longblondelockstrailingoverherbreasts,trying
tohidethem.Butthere’snotenoughhaironherheadtohidethosevoluptuoustitsofhers.Ilove
fuckingherwithherbraon.Ilovepullingitdownunderherhugemoundssotheunderwire
practicallyraisesthemuptoherchin.

God,Iwanttodofilthy,filthythingswithhermouthandhertits.Makehersuckonthem.Herlittle

pinktonguedartingoutasittracesthelineofhernipples.

Whenwefinallygettoopenwater,Isetaheadingandputitonautopilot.Thisboatisnotasbigas

theyachtIhaveinWestPalmBeach,butit’sgoteverythingIneedforanafternoonoffantasy
roleplayingwithMissSugarCookiedownthere.

IunbuttonmyshirtasIstepdownthestairstothesalonandtheminuteIseeher—thatgoldenbody

nakedandwaiting—bloodfillsupmycockuntilit’ssohard,Ihavetoresisttheurgetograbit.

“Iliketocomply,Detective,”Cindypurrs.“It’soneofmyfavoritethings.”
Jesus.Shelookslikeafuckingpin-upgirllyingthere.She’sonherside,legsscissoringtogether

likeshe’stryingtostimulateherself.Thelittleblondelandingstripofhairbetweenherlegspeeksout
atmelikeaninvitation.Herarmsarestrategicallyplaced,squeezinghertitstogethertomakethem
lookevenmoreperfect.

Ifinallygetthebuttonsdoneonmyshirt,takeitoffandthrowitacrossthetableasIpass,andthen

gotoworkonmypants.

“Whatwillyoumakemedo?”sheasks,fakehintoffearinhervoice.
“AnythingIwant,”Isay,pullingmycockoutandfistingit,myhandmovingupanddownmythick

shaftinslowstrokes.“AndwhatIwantrightnow,MissCookie,istomakeyousufferforteasingme
backinthecar.You’reluckyIdon’twalkoutofthiscase.Leaveyoutofendforyourself.”

Ihatetobitebackthesmile.Becausemylittlesugarherecanfendforherselfjustfine.ButIlike

herdamsel-in-distressplayacting.Itfuckingturnsmeon.

“Suffer?”sheasksinanoverlydramaticprotest.“ButIdidn’tdoanythingyoudidn’twant.”
“It’stoolatenow.You’rehere,we’reheadingwesttonowhereinparticular,andyou’vegotmy

undividedattention.”

“Please,”shebegs.“Please,don’twalkout—”
“Iwon’t,youlittletease.ButI’mgoingtoteachyoualessonrightnow.Alessonyou’llneverwant

toforget.”Ireachher,pullheruptoasittingposition,andthensitdownonthecouch.

“WhatshouldIdotomakeitbetter?”Sheplacesherhandovermine,whichisstillstrokingmy

cock.“Tellmewhatyouwant.”

“Iwant…”Goddamn.IwanttofuckheriswhatIwant.Butthisiswaytoomuchfuntorushthings.

“Getup,”Isay.

Shestandsup,bitesherlipseductively,andstandsthereasIliedownonthecouchwhereshejust

was.

“Nowsitontopofme.”
Shestraddlesmythighs,positioningherpussyrightovermycock,butIplaceahandonherarm

andsay,“No,no,no.Youwishmycockwasgoinginsideyou,MissCookie.”

“ButDetective,Ithoughtyou—”
“Youcanstopthinkingnow.It’sunnecessary.Scootupandleanback.”
Cindyscrunchesherbrowstogether,confused.
“Youwanttobeatease?Let’sseewho’sthebettertease.”
“Whatareyoudoing?”sheasksinherrealvoice.
“Let’splayagame…”IsaythewordsbeforeIrealizehowshemighttakethem.Butshestopsmy

worrywithasmile.“Let’sseewhocanholdoutthelongest.”

“Oh,honey,”shepurrs.“I’mgonnawinthisgame.What’smyprizeattheend?”
“Youthinkso,huh?I’lltellyouwhat.Ifyouwin,I’llsignthatMalibuhouseovertoyou.”
“What?”She’sgenuinelyshocked.“Paxton,that’sinsane.Why?”Shestuttersforwords.“Whatare

youdoing?”

“Whyisitinsane?Ijustwanttomakesureyou’renotsleepinginatrailerifyouevergettiredof

me.”

“Idon’tneedyourhouse.Andit’sworthfourteenmilliondollars,that’swhy!”
“Thatwaspurchaseprice,Sugar.It’sworthtwenty-onemillionatthemoment.AndIknowyou

don’tneeditnow.Youalreadylivetherewithme.Butit’saniceplace,right?Peoplegetaddictedto
nicethingsandthensometimestheystayinsituationsjusttokeepthosethings.Iwanttomakesure
thatneverhappenstous.”

“I’mnottakingyourhouse,don’tberidiculous.”
“Afraidyou’regonnalose,MissCookie?”
“I’mnotgoingtolose.”Shesnorts.“Infact,IbetIwinthislittlegameinlessthantenminutes.”
“Well,ifIwin,”Isay,myvoiceadeepmixtureofdesireandarrogance,“thenIwanttomeetyour

dad.”

“What?”IfIdidn’tknowwewereplayingagame,I’dbeconvincedthatshockedlookisreal.

“Why?”Shealmostwhispersit.

“Youmetmymother.Iwanttomeetyours.AndIhaveafeelingthatVicVaughndoesn’tletanyone

meethiswifeunlesshegivesthempermission.Besides,that’swhatyoudowhenyou’reserious,
right?Meettheparents.Getpermission.That’showmymotherraisedme,Cinderella.Ican’thelpthat
I’matraditionalkindofguy.”

“Pax—”
“Toochickenshittoplay,MissSugarCookie?”
“No,”sheprotests.“No,that’snotit.I’mjustnotsure—”Shestopsshort.
ButIknowwhatshe’sgoingtosay.I’mjustnotsurewe’rethatseriousyet.Wearethatserious.

Andevenifshedoesn’tthinksorightnow,shewillrealizeitsoon.“Iwantameetingwithyourdad.
Andlook,IknowI’malittlerougharoundtheedges,butIcleanupwell.Ihavemanners,Cindy.I
won’tembarrassyou.”

Shebitesherlip.Anddamn,ifsheisn’tthebestlittleactress.Ialmostthinkshe’sreallyworried

aboutthis.

“Gameon?”Iask,onceagainwincingatmychoiceofterminology.
Sheletsoutalongsigh.“Iwon’tlose.SointenminutesI’mgoingtoownyourhouse.”
“That’sthespirit,Sugar.Winningisninety-ninepercentattitude.Areyouready?”
“Gameon.”
“Well,OKthen.Iwantyoutopressyourpussyupagainstmyshaftandrubagainstit.”
Shetiltsherheadwithaslygrin.
“Allthewayagainstit.Iwantyoutoslideupanddownmyshaft,somytipticklesyourclit,and

moveyourhipsuntilittouchesyourass.”

Sheexhales.“Shit.”

“No,Sugar.Squirt.I’llmakeyoucomesquirtingandIwon’tevenhavetotouchyou.”

ChapterTwenty-One-Cindy

Focus,Cinderella.
Idonotneedthathouse,nordoIwantit.ButwhatifPaxwinsandinsistsIcallhomewhenwe’re

donetosetupatimetomeetmydad?Hecannotmeetmydad!He’salreadymetmydad!

AndIknowdamnwellmyuncleVicwillnotplayalongwiththis.Nofuckingway.He’dtakeone

lookatPaxton,recognizehimasMr.Mysterious,andbeonthephonetomyfatherthatsameinstant.

They’dprobablykickhisass!
Well.They’ddefinitelytry.ButIhavealotofuncles.They’dallgetinonit.Hell,Oliverwould

too.Theywoulddefinitelykickhisass.

“Cindy,”Paxsays,breakingtheroleplay.“You’rejustsittingthere.”
“Detective,”Isay,tryingtogivemyselftimetofigureouthowtogetoutofthisgame.“Ireally

don’tthink—”

“You’regonnawin?”Hetskshistongue.“Iknowyou’renotgoingtowin,Sugar.Butwe’re

alreadyplaying.Youwanttobeatease?Icanteaseback.NowdowhatIsay.”

“Detective,”Irepeat,usingmysweetactingvoice.“It’sjustnotfairthatyougettoteasemefirst.”
“We’reteasingeachother,”hesays.“Allyougottadoismakemecomebeforeyouandyouwin.

Themoreseductiveyouare,themoreexcitedIget.”

ThewholeproblemwiththatisheknowshowIamwhenhisdickisplayingwithmyclit.Andhe

knowsIcanmakemyselfsquirtwhileImasturbate.Sothisisbasicallymemasturbatingwithhisdick.

“I’msogonnawin,”Isay.
ButallI’mthinkingis,I’msogonnalose.
“Here,”Paxsays.“I’llhelpyougetstarted.”
“You’resoconsiderate,”Ipurr,slappinghishandaway.“Butyousaid—”Ahha!Ihaveapathto

victory!“Yousaidyou’llmakemecomesquirtingandyouwon’tevenhavetotouchme.”

“Sothat’stherule?”
Ismile,smug.“That’stherule.”
“Sugar,I’vealreadywon.”
IlethimthinkthatasImoveintoposition,cuppingmybreaststogetherthewayIknowheloves.

He’sgotalotofkinkyideasaboutmytits.Icantellbythewayhefondlesthemwhilewefuck.He
pushesthemuptowardsmyface,likehe’shopingagainsthopemylittletonguewilljustdartoutand
—

Shit,Cindy,stopturningyourselfon.You’retryingtowinhere.
Butthat’stheproblem,isn’tit?EverythingIcandotomakehimcomealsoturnsmeon.
“Gettingworried?”Paxasks,smirkingupatme.
“Notatall.”Itakehisharddickinmyhandsandpressituptothewetlipsofmypussy.Hecloses

hiseyes,justaflicker,really,andIknowI’mtheonewithallthepowerhere.Hewon’tlast.Hewon’t.

Imovemyhipsupanddown,justatinybit.Slidingmyjuicesalloverhisshaft.
“Fuck,yeah,”hesays.
Fuck,yeah,Ithink.
ButIkeepgoing.Pressinghimagainstmyfolds,desperatelytryingtostimulatehimwithouthitting

mysweetspot.

“You’recheating,”hesays,pushingonhiscocksothattheheadisrightwhereIdon’tneedittobe.

“Youhavetohitthebutton,Sugar.That’stherules.”

Imovemyhips,anglingthemsohistipjustbarelyhitsmyclit,bitingmylipsoIdon’tgettoo

turnedon.

“Fuck,”Paxsays.“Youhavetheprettiestpussy.Sopink,andwet,andyourlipsfoldaroundmy

dickliketheywanttoeatitup.”

Oh,God.Iactuallygetwetter,ifthat’spossible.He’sgonnadirty-talkmerightintolosingthis

game.

Don’tbestupid,Cindy.Youhaveamouthtoo.Useit!
“YouknowwhatIlove?”Ipurr.
“Hmmm?”Paxasks,stillconcentratingonhowmypussylookshugginghiscock.
“Thewayyoulookatmytits.”Ifistone,myotherhandholdinghiscocktightlytomypussysohe

getsthefulleffectofmymovements.“AndyouknowwhatI’vefiguredout?”

“Hmmm?”hesaysagain.“Thatyouwantmetotouchyouafterall?”
Ialmostlaugh.ThismightbeeasierthanIthought.He’salreadywishinghecouldtouchme.
“Because,”hecontinues,“allI’mthinkingaboutishowI’dliketograbyourhipsanddragyour

clitupanddownmycockuntilyou’rewhiningabouttheagonyofdefeat.”

He’sgood.I’llgivehimthat.He’sdamngood.
“No,”Isay,bendingforwardandleaningdownsomythighsstraddlehimandmytitspressagainst

hischest.

“Ifyoustopmoving,Sugar,Iwinbydefault.”
“No,”Isayagain,rubbingmyselfagainsthim.Thatlittlelipofskinoverthetipofhisheadbumps

upagainstmyclitandIexhale.Loudly.“I’vefiguredoutwhatyouwantmetodo.”AndthenIcupmy
breast,bringituptomymouth,andtracemynipplewithmytongue.

Ifeelhisdickjumpashiseyesgowide.
“Fuck,”hesays.
“Oh,yeah,”Imoan.“Doyoulikeit?”Ilickagain.“YouknowhowthisfeelswhenIdothistoyour

cock?”Iask.“Well,”Isay,leaningallthewaydownintohisnecksoIcanbreathethewordsintohis
ear.“That’showitfeelsformerightnowtoo.”

“Bitch,”hesays.
“Whyplaythegameifyouneverwanttowin?I’mgoingtowinthisone,Mr.Mysterious.”
“Youstoppedmoving.Dothatagainandyouforfeit.”
Asshole.Imoveagain,butdamn,iftheheadofhisdickisn’tstillrightthere.Readytopushmy

button.

Iwince,thenstoptocalmdown,butstartbackupagainbeforehedeclareshimselfthewinner.
“You’regettingweaker,”hesays,maneuveringhislegssothere’sevenmorepressureandfriction.

Bendinghiskneesandbracinghisfeetonthebed.“Imightnotbeabletotouchyou,but—”Hethrust
hiships—hard—sohisballsslapagainstmyass.

“Cheater!”Isqueal.Butholyfuck,thatfeels…so…good.Imovefaster,hisshaftstillsliding

betweenthelipsofmypussy.

Paxcloseshiseyes,soIkeepgoing.“Youlikethat?”Iask.“Youlikethewaymypussyfeels.All

wetandwarmandreadyforyourcock.Don’tyoujustwanttobeinsideme?Feelmesqueezeyou?”

“Keepgoing,”hemumbles.“Keeptalking.”
God,itwouldbesoeasytocomerightnow.Ibitemylip,tryingnottoletmyowndirtytalkbemy

downfall.Howtowinthegamewhenlosingmeansyougetexactlywhatyouwant?

“Iwanttofeeltheslapofyourballsagain.Iwantyourharddickinsideme.Iwantyouinmy

mouthandIwantyourtongueinmypussy—”

“Doit,”hesays.“Turnaroundanddoit.”
Oh,man.I’msogonnaloseifIlethistonguetouchmedownthere.ButifIsuckhimoff,there’sa

chanceIcanwin.“I’mgonnatakeyoudeepinmythroat,Detective.I’mgonnaswallowyourcockand
makeyouchokemewithyourcome.”

Hishipsstartgrindingonme.Mybuttonisbeingpushed,overandover,andIknow,inthis

moment,thatifIdon’tdosomethingquick,Iwillexplode.

SoIswingmylegoverhisbody,turnaround,andpositionmyselfoverthetopofhim.Hisabsare

hard,likeaplank.Andthoseirresistiblehipmuscles,formingaV,liketheyarepointingtohiscock,
arestaringmeintheface.Ilickthemwithoutthinking,justashistongueflicksagainstmyclit.

Mymouthcovershisdick.Isuck,butonlybecausethat’swhathe’sdoingtome,thengaspwhenI

realizehowcloseIam.Myheaddivesdown,takinginhiswholeshaft.

“Ahhh,”hemoans.“Ahhhh.”Again.“MissCookie,you’readirtywhoreifyoucantakemygiant

—ahhhhh—cockallthewayintoyourthroat.”

Keeptalking,Ithinkinmyhead.Ifhe’stalking,he’snotlicking.
“I’mgonnacomeinthere,”hesays,practicallygrowlingthewordsashethrustshiships.
But…“Oh,fuck,”Imumble,thinkingabouthiswords.
“Sugar,”hesays,thrustinghishipsagain,forcinghimselfinsidemesofar,IfearIwillgagand

ruinallthehardworkIjustputin.“Mumbleagainstmycockagainandthisgameisover.”

“Mmmmm,”Isay,feelingthevibrationsastheybounceoffhisshaft.
Andthenhistongueisworking.AndI’mhummingmyselfintoafrenzy,andmyhandsare

underneathhisballs,myfingertipssearchingforthattenderspotaroundhisassholethatwillendthis
gameonceandforall.Butmyhipsareoutofcontrolashelicks,Irealize.I’mrockingbackandforth
untilIfindhischinand…“Oohhhhhhh…”

ThatwordgoesonforeverasIcome,andinthesamemoment,hiswarm,saltysemenisfillingmy

mouth,spillingoutfrombetweenmylips.

“Gameover,”hesays,flippingmeoverashefistshisstickycocksoitstayshard.Hehikesmy

handsupabovemyhead,leansdowntobitemynipple,andramshimselfinsidemewithsuchforce,
mywholebodymoves.Myheadbumpsupagainstthearmrestofthecouch.

Iliftmykneesup,givinghimmoreaccessasheslamsmewithallhispower.Ballsagainstmy

asshole,andhislipsonmymouth,kissingmeandkissingmeandkissingme…

Wecomeagain.Idragmyfingernailsdownhisback,makinghimroar.
Wegostill.Hecollapsesontopofme,ourheartsbeatingsohard,theyaredrumsinmyears.The

motionoftheboatcomesbacktome,soothingusasthebeatslowsandtheseabecomesmusic.Our
hot,sweatybodiestheproductofwhatwejustcomposed.

“Iwin,”hesays.“Iwin.”
“No,”Isay,andsnuggleuptohischestwhenheangleshisbodytowardsmineandputshisarms

aroundme.“Webothwon.”

ChapterTwenty-Two-Paxton

Ididn’tthinkshe’dbesocompetitive,tobehonest.Ifiguredshe’dcallmeridiculousandwe’d

fuckaroundsomemore,thenI’djustpoundheragainstthewall.

Whichisstillnotabadidea,andImightbereadyforanotherroundrealsoon.
But…shedidtryrealhardtowin.Andit’snotthehouse.
Nope.IhaveafeelingCinderellaVaughnisnotthekindofgirlwhogivesafuckaboutowninga

house.Shewaslivinginatraileronthebeachandseemedperfectlycontent.

Shereallydoesn’twantmetomeetherfamily.Andmaybelater,whenI’mnotsohappyand

content,Imighthavetothinkaboutthatsomemore.ButrightnowI’mjustgonnachalkituptobeing
somekindofDaddy’sgirlandletitgo.

“Iloveyourboat,”Cindysays.
“Justwait,”Imumbleback,unabletoopenmyeyes.“Theotheroneissomuchnicer.Wecouldsail

aroundtheworldonthatone.”

“Thatwouldbeperfect.Alonewithyouformonthsandmonths,”shesays,hervoicebarely

audible.She’stired.Hell,I’mtired.Butweneedtogetgoing.

“Iwantnothingmorethantolieherewithyou,butBRB.”
Igetoutofbed,cleanupinthehead,thengetahotwashclothandgobacktoCindysoIcanwipe

hersweatyfacedown.“Thankyou,”shesays.ButI’mnotdone.Iopenherlegsupandwipeherinner
thighs,thenherglisteningpussy.God,I’dliketofuckheragainsobad.Assoonaswegethome,first
thingonmyagenda.

Ileandownandkissheronthelips.Shewakesupjustenoughtokissmeback,andthenIwhisper,

“I’mgonnachangetheheadingandtakeusbacktothemarina.Stayhereandsleep.”

Shesighssoftly,thentucksherhandsunderhercheekandgoesstill.
Igouptothecockpitandchangecourse,lingeringalittle,lookingoutatthevastemptinessof

ocean,contemplative.Afterafewminutesweareheadingbacktowardsland,andit’sweirdhowyou
canbelookingattheendoftheworldoneminuteandcivilizationthenext.We’renotthatfarfrom
shore.Onlyaboutanhouraway.Butitstrikesmehoweasyitistounplug.Disconnect.Become
disconnected.

Isn’tthatwhatCindydoes?Isn’tthatwhyshelivedinthattrailerinwhatamountstoaparkinglot?

Shelikesherfreedom.Ihadn’treallyarticulateditinmyheadwhenIofferedupmyhouseasher
prizetonight.Butthisunderlyingdifferencebetweenusisn’tmoney.It’sexpectations.Ormaybejust
whatyou’rewillingtosettlefor.

Cindyishappyinherlittletrailer.Shemadethatperfectlyclearwhenwedroveouttheretogether

clothes.It’saniceenoughplace,Iguess.It’sclean,andcozy.Decoratedinabeachycottagekindof
way.Girly,ifpressedtocomeupwithabetterdescription.Somethingsheisandisn’tatthesame
time.

Ican’tfigureherout.
Andwhat’smore,Idon’thavemuchtogoon.Herfathermakessenseinallkindsofways.Tough

guysraisetoughgirls,right?ButnaminghersistersafterDisneyprincesses?That’snottough.
Cinderella’snameisthethingthatdoesn’tfit.Idon’treallyknowthenamesofanyotherDisney
princesses.SnowWhite,right?She’soneofthem?Poisonapples?Ormirrors?I’mnotsure.I’m

ninety-ninepointninepercentsureI’veneverevenseenaDisneyprincessmovie.

IknowtheCinderellaone.That’sabook,andwhenIwaslittlemymotherreadmestoriesevery

nightbeforebed.SoI’vegotPrinceCharming’snumber.Dumbasswhocan’tevenrecognizehisgirl
unlesshe’sgotthatdamnshoeonherfoot.

Andwhatwaswiththatcommentaboutnothavinganoffice?Shefindsherclientsthroughher

brother ’swebsite?Ididn’tseeabrotherwhenIlookedonline.

Ishouldreallydoathoroughbackgroundcheckonher.Figureouthowsheticks.Whereshecame

from.Whyshe’saddictedtothenomadiclifestyle.

Icouldbeanomad.Iliketotravel.
But…there’sthislittlenaggingvoidinmyheadthatsaysit’sjustnotthesamething.
WhenCindytravelsshehasabackpackofclothesandthat’sit.Sheleaveseverythingelsebehind,

shesaid.Startingoverisahobbyforher.

Andifshedecidestostopandstayawhile,shejustbuysnewstuff.Justenoughstuff.
Besides,Istillgetthefeelingshe’shidingsomething.Andwhateveritis,Idon’twanttocareabout

it.Ireallydon’t.Hell,I’mhidingabillionthingsaboutmyself.WhywouldIgodiggingintoherlife
ifIdon’twantherdiggingintomine?

AndyetIwishtherewasawaytoprovewe’rethesame,eventhoughwe’resodifferent.Ihave

housesalloverthedamnworld.Thosetwoislands.Theboats.Twoagain.PaxtonVancehastohavea
backupplan.

I’macollector,Irealize.Imightevenbeahoarder.Ahousehoarder.WhydoIhavesomany

houses?

Ihavecarsstashedawaytoo.IshouldgetoneoutofthatstoragefacilityinLongBeachandgiveit

toCindy.ThatVWBugiscoolfordrivingaroundMalibu,butyoucan’treallygoanywhereinacar
likethat.

That’sthepoint.Ihearhervoiceinmyhead.Everythingisdisposable.
Howdoessheworklikethat?Imean,like…getclientsandshit?Ifshe’stravelingallthetime?
“Hey,”Cindysays,comingupfrombehindandwrappingherarmsaroundmyneck.Ismileupat

herinthefadinglight.Thereflectionofthesettingsunonthewatermakesherskinglow.“Ithought
youwerecomingbackdown?”

“Gotcaughtupinthemoment,”Isay,pullingherintomylap.“Realizingyoujustlostatwenty-

one-million-dollarhouseinabetiskindofsobering.”

Sheslapsmyarm.“Youdidn’tloseanything.Webothlost.”
“No,”Isay,playingwithherlongstrandsofgoldenhair.It’sgotalittlebounceinittoday.“We

bothwon.Thatmeanswebothgettheprize.Igettomeetyourmom,bywayofyourdad.Andyouget
thetitletomyhouse.”

“Pax.Please.Idon’twantyourhouse.”
“Whynot?”Iask,readingwaymoreintothatstatementthanIshould.“Becausethenyoumight

havetosettledown?Stickaround?Getserious?”

“What?”sheasks,pullingawayfromme.“Where’sthiscomingfrom?”
“Youdon’tevenhaveanoffice.Howdoyouwork?”
“Itoldyou.PeoplegetincontactandIgowhereI’mneeded.”
“Youjustpickupandleave?”
“Pax,you’rebeingweird.I’mnotgoinganywherenow.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yeah,whyisnowdifferent?Becauseit’snotoldyet?Thingsarestillshinyandnew?Whatifyou

getarequestforajobinlike,Iowa?”

“Idon’tknow.”Sheshrugs.“IfIdogetajobinIowa,I’llletyouknowandwecandecidehowto

deal.”

Hmmm.Howtodeal.Idon’twannahavetodeal.Iwanttonailthisshitdownlike…rightnow.
“Well,thehouseisyours.”
“Thathouseisnotmine.Iwon’ttakeit.”
“I’lljustputyournameonthedeedandbedonewithit.Youwon’tevenknow.”
“I’mprettysureI’dhavetosignsomething.”
“I’mpositiveIcouldfakeyoursignature.”
Sheshiftsinmylapsoshecanlookmeintheeyes.“Whatisgoingonwithyou?”
Ijustlookather.Howfuckingbeautifulsheis.Notjustherlooks,whichareincredible.Buther

whole…everything.Hereverything.

Idon’tknowwhatthisfeelingis.Idon’thaveawordtodescribeit.It’sbiggerthananythingI’ve

everfeltbeforeaboutawoman.It’severywhereandnowhereallatthesametime.

“Hey,”Cindysays,placingbothofherpalmsonmystubbledface.“I’mnotgoinganywhere.”
Fornow,Isayinmyhead.Butwhenshegetstiredofme,she’sgonnasellthatcar,buyherselfa

planeticket—hell,hitchthatbackpackoverhershoulderandstickoutherthumbonPCH.Itcouldgo
thatway.Infact,Icantotallyseeherdoingthat.

“Detective,”shesays,kissingmeonthelips.“I’mnotleavingyou.Ever.”
“MissCookie,”Isay.“I’djustfeelawholelotbetteraboutthatifyouownedmyhouse.”
“You’recrazy.”
“Theydosaythat.”
“ButI’mcrazytoo.”
“That’sthepartthatscaresme.”
“Why?”Shegiggles.“We’repracticallysoulmates.”
“Mr.andMrs.Mysterious.That’swhoweare.”
“Yeah,”shesays,leaningherheadonmyshoulder.“YeahIlikethesoundofthat.Mr.andMrs.

Mysterious.”

Wesitlikethatalittlelonger.UntilIhavetotaketheboatoffautopilotandsteermywaythrough

themarinaandbackintotheboatslip.

“Ilovethisboat,”CindysaysasIhelpherstepbackontothedock.“Ican’twaittoseetheother

one.”

Ismileallthewaybacktothecar.Infact,IsmileallthewaybackuptoMalibuoverthatlittle

comment.

“You’llseeallofit,”IsayjustaswepullintoMalibuColony,eventhoughshe’sbeensleepingfor

thepastfifteenminutes.“Everyhouse,everyisland,everyboat,everycar.”

PrinceCharmingisgonnadeliverthefairytaletohissweet-smellingCinderella.Whethershe

wantsitornot.

ChapterTwenty-Three-Cindy

“Hey,”Paxwhispersinmyearasheunbucklesmyseatbelt.“We’rehome.”
Home.God,whatwasupwiththatwholeconversationaboutgivingmethishouse?Ican’ttakethis

house.That’scrazy.

Isigh,lethimhelpmeoutofthecar,thenfollowhimintothehousebywayofthegarage.This

doorleadsstraightoutintothepoolarea,sincethegarageisstreetlevelandtheguesthouseis
technicallyonthesecondfloor.

“Youreadyforsomesteaks?”heasksaswewalkintothebeach-sidepartofthehouse.Hedrops

hiskeysonthekitchenislandandwalkstotherefrigeratortopullitopenandstudywhat’sinside.

“Sohungry,”Isay.“I’llstartthegrill.”
Wewentgroceryshoppingyesterdaysincehedidn’thavetogointotheofficetoworkandour

take-outoptionsinMalibuarelimited.

HaveIever…groceryshoppedwithamanbefore?
Honestly,Idon’tthinklikethat.Ihavehadgirlfriendswhogushoveraguyaskinghertogrocery

shopwithhim—likeit’ssomethingverymeaningful.ButeventhoughI’maromanticinmanyways,I
takeloveveryliterally.

Groceryshoppingis…well,buyingfoodtoeatandnothingmore.Now,lettingmewinahouse

fromhiminasillybet—yeah,thatgesturehassomemeaningbehindit.

Ijustdon’tunderstandwhyhe’ssoworriedaboutmeleaving.Andit’snotlikeIcaneventellhim

howobsessiveI’vebeentryingtosneakmywayintohislife.

No.Ican’ttellhimanyofthat.Andhe’sright.I’vegotthepastofagirlwhotakesoff.Awanderer.

Aleaver,asmyuncleFordwouldsay.I’maleaver.

“IneedtocallthatLiamassholeandlethimknowI’mout.”
“Youwerein?”Iaskfromthepatio.“You’renotconsideringitforreal,areyou?”
“ItoldhimI’dcallhimtonightandlethimknow.SoIjusthavetowrapthatshitupandgethimoff

myback.”

“Yousaidtext.Iwasthere,remember?”
Paxbacksawayfromthefridgeasthedoorcloses,withapackageofT-bonesteaksandaheadof

broccoli.“He’snotreallythekindofguywhotakesnoforananswerinatext.I’llhavetocallat
least.”

“Hmmm,”Isay.
“Hmm,what?”hesays,tearingtheplasticoffthemeatandwalkingtowardsmeonthepatio.“Ican

handlehim.”

“OK.Itrustyoucompletely.”Ijustwishyou’dtrustmeback,Iwanttosay.Butthenhe’llbringup

allthethingsIreallycan’ttalkabout.LikewhyIhavenoofficeandwhyIneverstickaroundinone
place.WhyIbribedateenagertoletmedeliverhisfoodallsummer.Andwhyhecan’tmeetmymom
anddad,evenifwedidbothwintoday.

AmIintoodeep?DidIfuckthisallupwithmystalking?
“Youwannagosurfing?”Paxasks.“Afterweeat?Andwatchthesunsetfromourboards?”
God.Howdoesamanlikethis—tall,dangerous,mysterious—managetosaythemostromantic

thingsever?

“Yes,”Ianswer.“Yes,I’dlovethat.”
HecooksthesteakstoperfectionwhileIwashthebroccoliandsquirtranchdressingintolittle

ceramicdippingbowls.Andthenweeatoutsideandwatchamoviestartossafootballwithhistwo
sonsonthebeach.

“You’regonnaloveithere,”Paxsays,oncewe’redone.“It’syourkindofplace.”
“Ialreadyloveithere,Detective.Andit’snotbecauseoftheocean,orthehouse,orthemoviestars

onthebeach.It’sbecauseyou’rehere.I’mnotleaving,PaxtonVance.”NotafterIworkedsohardto
getyouinthefirstplace.

Helooksatmeforalongsecond.“Howaboutyouletmefuckyourbrainsoutonthekitchen

counterandwe’llsavethatsunsetsurfingforanotherday?”

Ilaugh,feelingmorecomfortablewiththismanthananyoneI’veeverknown.“You’relikea

goddamnedpoet.Anybodyevertellyouthat?”

Hestandsup,pullsmetomyfeet,hoistsmeoverhisshoulderashesmacksmyass,andsays,

“OnlythegirlIfellinlovewith.”

Wefuckalloverthehousethatevening.Onthekitchenisland,aspromised.Thenwetakeaswim

inthepoolandfuckintheoutdoorshower,Paxpressingmeupagainstthehardstuccowalluntilwe
laughabouttheimpressionsitleavesonmybackoncehethrowsmedownaloungechairandstarts
rubbinglotionallovermybodyashemassagesthetightnessawayinmywound-upmuscles.

Hefucksmeduringthemassage,sincethemassagemostlyconsistsofhimplayingwithmypussy

untilI’msquirtingandscreaminghisname.Andsometimeaftermidnightheputsmeintobed,drags
thelightcoveroverme,andkissesmeonthecheek,saying,“Berightback.Justgonnamakethatcall
toLiamnow.”

Idon’tknowwhathappensafterthat.
BecausewhenIwakeuphe’sgoneandtheonlyclueheleftbehindisanote.




Istuckitoutfortwoweeks.Pattedmyselfonthebackandreadthatnoteoverandover.

Cinderella,
IgottadothisjobforLiamorhe’sjustgonnagetsomeoneelsetodoitinsteadandtheonlyway

CorporatecomesoutofthisaliveisifItakeover.Bebacksoon.

Mr.Charming
P.S.Don’tleave.

Iadmit,thecutenotewaswhatmademestaysolong,wonderingwhatthefuckjusthappened.How

Iwentfromthebestnightofmylifeto…well,dumped.WhatelsecanIcallit?Icalledhimabouta
hundredtimesanditwenttovoicemail.Ievenhackedintohisemailjusttomakesurehewasn’tdead.
BecauseIthoughthewasdeadforagoodforty-eighthoursbeforeIgotthenewpasswordtohis
emailaccount.

Hechangedit.HeknewIwashackinghimandhechangedit.
Whichmeanswe’reover.
Butnope.He’sstillalive.Becausehe’sbeencheckingemails.Noneofthemwithareply,butevery

daysomearemarkedread.

He’snotevenleavingmemessagesortextsinthemiddleofthenightwhileI’msleeping,sohe

doesn’thavetotalktome.Notanemail—Imean,he’sonline,right?Hecan’tjustbangoutafew
words?Hey,itwasfun,butmovingon?Andthere’salwaysgoodoldsnailmail.I’mnotexpectinga
Hallmarkcard,forfuck’ssake.AfewwordsscribbledonaTacoBellnapkinwouldsuffice.AnddoI
reallyneedaslapinthefacelikethattotakeahint?He’sjustnotcomingback.

SoIleft.
Ipackedupmybackpack,soldmydamncar,gotonaplane,andleft.
AndI’vebeenhereintheBayAreaforalmosttendaysnow,tellingmyselftherearesomanynew

thingstodoandsee,IwillnevermissPaxtonVance.Iwillmoveonandchalkitalluptoabadcaseof
delusionallust.AndIhavealreadyansweredadsfortwojobs,andclosedbothcaseswithonehundred
percentcustomersatisfaction.So,goodomen,right?

Butman,doesmyheartache.Mywholechest,really.EveryguyIseewhomightbeareasonable

alternativejustgetscompared.LikeIhavethischecklistwithPaxononesideandthewholeworldof
menontheother.

AndnoonewillevercomeclosetowhatIfeelforhim.AllthebillionsofthingsIloveabouthim,

likethewayheplaysalongwithmycrazyandcallsmeMissSugarCookiewhiletryingtogiveme
hisbazillion-dollarhouseonthebeach.Orthewayhisheadanglesdownwhilehewalks,buthiseyes
arealwaysawareofeverythingaroundhim.OrthathismotherboughthimabaseballforChristmas
lastyearwithacardinsidethatsaid,RememberthatdayItookyououtofschoolearlywhenyouwere
elevensowecouldgowatchtheBatsopeninggame?Well,mygifttoyouthisChristmasisthememory
ofthatday.

Ishismotheradorableorwhat?Imean,mymotherisfuckingadorabletoo.Thebest.Butyougotta

loveamanwholoveshismom.ShegiveshimmemoriesforChristmas,becausereally,whatdoyou
giveamanwhocanbuyhimselfanythinghewants?

I’dliketothinkweweremakingmemoriesthatwouldlastforever.Thatwe’dbeoldonedayand

I’dwriteanotesaying,RememberthatdaywepretendedyouwereadetectiveandIwasMissSugar
Cookie?Andmakehiswholelifebrighterjustthinkingaboutit.

IsighasIlookoutattheocean.Ifoundanotherplacetorent,thistimearealhouse.Well,cottage.

OK,vacationshackonthebeach,ifI’mbeinghonest.Butit’sthesameoceanastheonewehadback
inMalibu.AndpicturinghimlookingoutatthePacificisjustabouttheonlythingthatmakesmy
heartstophurting.

Heartbreakisarealphysicalcondition.Notadisease,exactly.Butsomethingworse.Thereisno

cureforheartacheexcepttime.Iambroken.Ihadneverrealizedthatthesamelovethatpullsyou
togethercanbreakyouinhalf.Iliterallyfeelbroken.

IwishIkeptmyoldphonenumber,butIwassoangrywhenIleftSouthernCaliforniathatI

cancelledtheaccount,burnedthechipinthemicrowave,andtosseditintheocean.Theonlywayhe
canreachmenowis…well,hecan’t.HesaidonceifheleftI’dneverfindhim,andIguesshe’sright.
ButI’mjustaselusiveasheis.Icanthrowthingsawaywiththebestofthem.Ididn’twanttobring
anythingwithme.Notevenmyclothes.Somybackpackhadnothinginitbutthecontentsofmy
purse.

Iwon’tcallhimagain.Irefuse.Ijustneedtoacceptthatit’soverandmoveon.
Ipickuparockfromthebeachandskipitacrossthewater.Therearealmostnowavesthis

morning,somyrockjumpsthreetimes.

MaybeIshouldcallOliverandseeifhecantellmewhat’sgoingon?
ButthenI’dhavetoexplainthiswholefucked-upstalkingthingtohim.AndIcan’tdothat.
“Cynthia?”
Iwhirlaround,startled.“What?”Isay,notquitebelievingmyeyes.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
MarielHawthorneisstandingontheridgethatleadstomycottage,longcoatpulledtightaround

herbodyandcinchedatthewaistwithabelt.It’snotatrenchcoat.She’stoohigh-fashionforthat.But
it’sgotthesamelookandwhatIseeisPaxtheDetectivewhenIlookatherfeatures.She’swearing
sunglasses,eventhoughthesunisjustbarelyrising,andsheslidesthemdownhernosetoseeme
betterasIstare.

Shestartswalkingdowntheembankment,herdesignerleatherbootssinkingintothesandypebbles

thatlinebeachesuphere.“Ithinkweneedtotalk.”

“DidPaxsendyou?”
“No.”Shelaughs,andmyhearthurtssobad,Ihavetoclutchatmycoattotrytonumbmyselffrom

thepain.“No,I’mhereforsomethingelse.SomethingIneedtotellyou.Probablyshould’vetoldyou
thatfirstdaywemet.”

“BackinDelMar?”Iask,happythatshe’shere.ThatsomesmallbitofPaxissoclosetomeagain.

Butconfused.Soutterlyconfused.

“No,dear.WebothknowyoucametoseemeatBelmontawhileback.Idon’trecallexactlywhen

itwas,butIneverforgetaface.Especiallyoneasbeautifulasyours.”

“Oh,”Isay,lettinggoofmycoat.“Well,thankyou.”
“Don’tthankmeyet.Notuntilyou’veheardthewholestory.”
“Story?”Whatisshetalkingabout?
“Ofwhyyou’rehere.Whyallthisishappening.Andwhatwemightdoaboutit.”
“We?”Iask.“Asin,youandme?”
“Yes,we,Cynthia.”
“Cinderella.”
“Oh,Iknow,dear.IjustwanttosmileeverytimeIsayyourrealname,andwhatIhavetotellyou

isn’tanythingtosmileabout.SoCynthiaitis.Untilallthisisover,atleast.”

“Oh,God,”Isqueak.“It’sPax?He’sdead?Theykilledhim?Thatlastjob?”
“No,no,no,”shesays,comingwithinarm’sreach,soshecanpatmyshoulder.“He’sbackfrom

that.He’slookingforyou,actually.Butofcourse,hegotdrunklastnightandtoldhisfriendswho
youreallyareandnowI’mjustnotsurewhattodo.SoIcamehere.Totalktoyouandseeifwecan’t
comeupwithsomekindofunderstanding.”

“Fuck,”Isay,forgettingwhoI’mtalkingtoforamoment.
“Right.You’regoingtohavetodealwiththat,ofcourse.Thenexttimeyouseehim.ButI’mhere

aboutsomethingelseentirely.”

“What?”Iask,achillridingupmyspine.Thekindofchillyougetwhenyou’reabouttohearbad

news.“Whyme?WhatcouldIpossiblytellyou?”

“Thosesilverenvelopes.Yousaidyou’dneverseenonebefore.”
“Ihadn’t,”Isay.“Notuntilthatdaywithyouatthetrack.”
“Thinkback,Cynthia.Never?Areyousure?”
Ishrug.“Idon’trememberthem.Butthenagain,Iwasneveronthelookout.”
“Yoursisters?Theynevergotone?”Shecocksherheadatme,likeshemightthinkI’mlying.But

I’mnotlying.

“NotthatIsaw.Why?”
“Ithinkweshouldtakethisconversationinside.Haveahotcupoftea.SomesconesIbroughtwith

mefromthebakerydowntheroad.Somethingsoothing.”

Justpicturingthismakesmefrown.“Mymomusedtodothatwhenshehadtobreakbadnewsto

meandmybrotherandsisters.She’dbakeallday,ormakeabigroast,somethinghugeanddelicious
fordinnerordessert.Andthenshe’dsay,‘You’renotgettingmoneyforthattrip,Belle.Yourfather
doesnotapprove.’Or,‘Thereisnonewcarinyourfuture,Ariel.Soputthatillegalhackingsiteaside
andgetarealjob.’Sothismustbeyourversionofparentalguidancenightifyou’retryingtofeedme

teaandsconesjusttohaveatalk.”

Shesmiles,likeshe’spicturingmyfamilydinner.“IthinkIwillloveyourmotherwhenwefinally

meet.”

“Ithinkyouwilltoo.If…”Isay.“Ifyouevergettomeether.”
Marielpatsmyhandandthennodsherheadtowardsthecottage.“Comeon,let’sgoinside.It’stoo

coldanddampuphereinthenorth.AndIdon’tapproveofyourrusticaccommodations,Cynthia.
You’regoingtobeinafive-starresortthisafternoon.I’mnotagainstroughingit,sweetie.Butthisis
goingtoofar.YourparentswouldneverforgivemeifIletyoustayouthereforonemoresecond.”

ChapterTwenty-Four-Paxton

PresentDay-Mr.Perfect’sHouse

“Andthat’sthelasttimeIsawher.Well,”Iamend,startingtosoberup,“thelasttimeItalkedtoher

too.IwentbackhomeyesterdayafterourmeetingatCorporate’shouse—”

“Thatwastwoweeksago,Pax,”Perfectsays.“You’vebeendrunkonmintjulepsfortwofucking

weeks?”

ButIwavehimoff.“Yesterday,twoweeksago…samething.OnceIfiguredoutwhoshewasIwas

gonnagohomeandconfronther.Butshewasn’tatmyhousewhenIgotthere.SoIdrovetoher
traileranditwasempty.Sheran,man.Shepickedupandran.”Isitdown,myheadinmyhands.
“BecauseIleftherthere.Justafuckingnote,man.SayingI’dbebackandtostayput.Andnowshe’s
fuckinggone.IttookmeweekstotakecareofallthatCorporateshitandshewaslike,‘Fuckyou,
dude.I’mouttahere!’”IlookupatMacandFive,whoarebothstaringatmelikeI’velostmymind.
“DoyouthinkyoucancallOliverandaskhimwheresheis?”

“Ishefuckingseriousrightnow?”FivepracticallygrowlsatMac.“YoudorealizeI’veknowthis

girlsinceshewasfuckingborn?”He’slookingatmenow.“Andifyouevertalkaboutfuckingher
again,OliverandIwillbothkickyourassto—”

“Iloveher,OK?Iloveher.Youguysarejustgonnahavetoacceptthatshe’sminenow.”
“Fuckthat,”Fivesays.“Ifyouwerefuckingmybabysister,I’dkickyourassintonextyear.No,”

hesays,pacingtheroomasherubshischin.“I’dblowyourfuckingheadoffwithashotgun.”

Perfectrollshiseyesandmouthsdramatome.
“Betteryet,”Fivecontinues,“cutyourgoddamnedballsoff.Oryourdick.I’dliketoseeyoufuck

anyoneelse’sbabysisterafterthat.”

Iletoutalongexhale.“What’sdoneisdone,”Isay.“Itcan’tbeundone.Ijustneedyoutofindher

forme.CallOliver ’sparents’house.Or…”Igetexcitedwiththisidea.“Ariel!Yeah,Arielwillknow
wheresheis.”

“Oh”—Fivelaughs—“you’regonnaundoitallright.”Hestopspacingandpointshisfingeratme.

“You’regonnabreakupwithher,that’swhatyou’regonnado.Hopefullyshe’sgoneandwon’tever
botherwithyouagain.Butifshedoesshowup,you’regonnacutallties,sendherassbackhometo
Colorado,andwashyourhands.Doyouhearme?”

Istoptothinkforaminute.“TheLittleMermaid.ArielisnamedaftertheLittleMermaid.Which

princessisBelle?”IsuddenlyhaveaneedtoknowalltheDisneyprincesses.SoItakeoutmyphone
andstarttolookitup.

“Youknow,Pax,”Perfectsays,ignoringmyquestion.
“BeautyandtheBeast!”Isay,soproudofmyskills.
“You’rethenextonethey’regonnafuckwith,right?”Perfectcontinues.“IfCindy’saroundwhen

thathappens,shemight—”

“I’llkillyou,”Fivesays.“Dead.IfanythinghappenstoCindyShrike,Iwillkillyou.You’regonna

forgetyoueverheardofagirlnamedCinderella.”

Iwanttoobject,butPerfect’swordsareringinginmyhead.Couldtheyuseheragainstme?
Could?Could?Morelike,theyabsolutelywill.

Igetup,walktoPerfect’sbar,makemyselfabourbon,anddrinkitdowninonegulp.
“Yeah,”Fivesays,practicallyspittingthewordout.“AndifIseeyoudrinkanothermintjulep,I

willkickyourassjustforbeingsogoddamnedwussy.Youunderstandme,Mysterious?AmImaking
myselfclear?”

Ipouranotherdrink,downthatonetoo,andthenlettheburningsensationinmygutnumbme

fromthewaistup.

“Olivercan’teverknowaboutthis,”Fivesays.“Thanksgivingiscomingupnextmonth,soshe’ll

comehomeforthatandI’lltakeherasideandexplainthings.OK?Youdon’ttellhershitifyoufind
her.Notoneword.Ifyouhavetosaysomething,thenyoujustsay,‘Sorry,I’manasshole.Icheated
onyouin—’”

“I’mnottellingherthat,youdick.Fuck,no.”
“Oh,Idon’tgiveonefancyfuckwhatyouthinkyou’regonnatellher.I’mtheonewithaccess.So

I’mgonnafindherandI’llbetheonetotellheryou’reacheatingmotherfuckerandshewillnever
lookatyoutwiceagain.”

“Five,”Perfectinterrupts.“You’renotdoinganyofthat,OK?Justcalmdown.”Heturnstome.

“Pax,youhavetoseeyouneedtolethergo,right?Youcan’ttakethechancethatourenemiesmight
dragherintothisshitwe’rein.”Hiseyespleadwithme.“Right?”

Ijuststareathim.
“Right?Youdon’twanttogetherhurt?Iknowyoudon’t.Soyou’regonnadotherightthing.No

one,”hesays,lookingoveratFive,“isgonnababysityou.We’renotgonnacallherordoanyof
thosethingsFivejustsaid.Becauseyou’reagrown-assman,forfuck’ssake.Andyouknowyouhave
todotherightthing.Soleaveheralone.Pretendthisneverhappened,andifyoudobumpintoher,
yousay,‘Sorry,Cindy.I’mjustnotintoyou.’”

I’mnotsayingshitwhilePerfecttalksuphisplan.Ican’tpromisethat.IfIseeher,I’mhandcuffing

herasstomeandthrowingthegoddamnedkeyaway.That’swhatI’mgonnado.Fuckeveryoneifthat
happens.We’llgetonthatboatinDelReyandjustsay,“Show’sover,folks.Nothin’toseehere.”And
sailourmerryassesaroundtheworld—oratleasttoanotherportsoIcanpickupasuitableyacht—
andjustsayfuckeveryone.

IlookupatFiveandhe’sgotapainedexpressiononhisface.I’mjustabouttolieandsay,“Yup,

that’sagreatplan,Perfect,”whenFiveopenshismouthandsays…“Whatiftheyalreadyhaveher?”

“Who?”Iask.“Liam?FuckingLucioGoriSenior?Whywouldtheyevenknowabouther?”
“Don’tjumptoconclusions,”Perfectsays.AndthenhelooksatFivelikehe’ssendinghimasecret

message.

“Whatthefuckwasthatlookfor?”
“Whatlook?”Perfectsays.
“Don’tplaystupidwithme,”Isay.“YoujustshotFivealook.”
“I’mjustsaying,there’salotofshitgoingdownrightnow,”Fivesays.“AndamissingShrikegirl

isn’tsomethingIcanjustpretendnottoknow.Youhavetounderstandthat,right?”

“Five—”Perfectsays.
“Whatthefuckareyousaying?”
“Pax,man,”Fivesays.“Ifshe’smissing,thenIgottacallhome.”
“Home?”Perfectisscrunchinguphisfacelikethisisaverybadidea.
Iagree.“You’recallingOliver?”Ilaugh.“Youfuckingpieceofshit.”
“No,”Fivesays.“I’mcallinghisfuckingfather.”
“Cindy’sfather?”Iscrubmyhanddownmyface.“Youcan’tdothat.”
“ThehellIcan’t.IwillgetmyassbeatifIdon’treportinonthisone,Pax.Sorry,thereisnoway

I’mnot—”

“Five,”Perfectsaysagain,onlythistimeheraiseshisvoice.Scoutstartsbarkingandjumping

around,theagitationintheroomclearlypalpable.“You’reMr.Shut-the-fuck-up.Andnow,allofa
sudden,you’reeagertoshare?No.Idon’tfuckingthinkso.”

I’mopeningmymouthtoagreewhenmyphonevibratesinmypants.
IlookupatPerfect,thenFive,andthenhisphonevibratesinhishand.IpullmineoutasFive

studieshisscreen.

“Whoisit?”Perfectasks.
“Mymother.”
“Oliver,”Fivesays.
Wejuststandtherelookingateachotherforafewseconds,bothphonesgoingoffsimultaneously.
“Well,don’tjuststandtherelookingstupid,answerthem!”Perfectsays.Scoutbarksher

agreement.

“Hello?”FiveandIsaytogether.
“Paxton,”mymothersays.“IneedyoutocometotheHundredPalmsResort.”
“What?Mom,I’malittlebusyrightnow.CanIcallyouback…”Ilookoutsideandrealizeit’s

morning.Iwastalkingallnightlong.“Afterlunchorsomething?”

“No,Paxton,youmaynot.”Hervoicehasahardedgetoit,likeshe’spullingthemomcardonme.

“I’mhere,”shesays,“withCynthia,Nolan,andthatsweetgirl,Ivy.Andwerequirethepresenceofall
theMisters,withtheirrespectiveMrs.,foranemergencymeeting.”

“YouhaveCindy?Hey,”Isay,lookingatPerfect.“Ifoundher.Cindy’swithmymomand

Romanticathisdesertarmpitofaresort.”

“Well,”Fivesays,pocketinghisphone.“ThatwasOliverlookingforAriel.”
“She’sinthemountainswithEllie,”Perfectsays.“Bebackthisafternoon.”
“Toldhimthat.Buthe’sonhiswayherebecauseIcalledaprivatemeeting.”
“Mom,”Isay.“We’llbetherelatertoday.But…issheOK?”
“She’sfine,Paxton.”
“CanItalktoher?”
“No.”
“No?Well,whythefucknot?”
“Becauseyourpersonalissuesneedtobeputasideuntilwediscussthejobyoujustfinished.”How

thefuckdidsheknowaboutthat?“CallyourCorporatefriendandtellhimtodrivedowntotheresort
aswell.AndweneedhisMrs.She’sdefinitelyaplayer.”

“Victoria?”
“What?”Fiveasks.“What’sgoingon?”Hegrabsthephonefrommyhandandsays,“Hello?This

isFive.”Buthejustlooksdownatmyphoneandtossesitback.“Shehungup.”

“She’scalledaMistermeetingatNolan’sresort.”
“Shecan’tcallaMistermeeting,”Fivesays.“She’snotaMister.”
“Neitherareyou,dumbass.Butifyou’dliketocallmymotherbackandexplainthattoher,bemy

guest.I’mgoing.Cindy’sthereandIneedtotalktoher.”

“We’ll,we’renotgoinganywhereuntilOlivergetshere.”
“Andthegirlsneedtogetbackfromthemountains,”Perfectsays.“MaybeIshouldtakethe

helicopterandpickthemup?”

“Goodidea,”Isay.“I’lltaketheMisterjetouttoCalifornia,whileyouguystakecareofyourend.”

I’manxioustogetthefuckoutofColorado.

“Idon’tthinkso—”
“Fuckyou,”ItellFive.“Whothefuckmadeyouthebossofthisoperation?Thisismyissue,

remember?‘You’renext,Mysterious,’”IsayinafakeFivevoice.“OK,I’mnext.Clearly.Soif

everythingthat’shappeningisduetoitbeingmyturn,thenI’mincharge.AndIsayPerfectgetsEllie
andAriel,yougetOliver,andwemeetinthedesert.I’llcallCorporateandlethimknowhispresence
isrequired.”

IstopandwaitforPerfecttoobject,buthejustthrowsuphishandsatFiveandsays,“We’lldoit

hisway.Can’thurt.”

ButFivenarrowshiseyesatme.He’snotusedtobeingchallengedinthesematters.Even

Corporatedeferredtohimduringthatlastepisodeofbullshit.Hepointsafingeratme.“I’mtelling
OlivertheminuteIseehim.”

“Youdothat.”
“Andthenthetwoofyoucansortitout.”
“Wemostdefinitelywill.”
Fiveturnstoleave,opensthefrontdoor,thenstopsandturnstolookoverhisshoulder.“Andby

theway,you’rewelcomeforcartingyourdrunkassalloverColoradoinahelicopterlastnight.
WhichI’mtakingwithme.”

Hewalksout,slammingthedoorbehindhim.Scoutbarksatthat.IlookatPerfect.
“I’mgonnahavetobringthedog,”hesays.“AndFiveisn’tgonnalikethatonebit.”
Welaugh,picturingPerfect’sgiantOldEnglishsheepdogonFive’sfancyjet,andsay,“Fucking

Five,”atthesametime.

“I’llseeyouthere,”Isay,thenhelpmyselftosomecarkeysfromthetablenearthegaragedoor.

“I’mgonnaborrowyourcar.”

ChapterTwenty-Five-Cindy

IamlookingoutthewindowofNolan’ssecond-flooroffice,staringatthelong,palmtree-lined

drivewayleadinguptotheresort,desperatelywillingPaxtontoappear.Iknowhelanded—thepilot
called,perNolan’sinstructions,assoonasheleftthetarmacinthelimo—butthatfeelslikean
eternityago.

Myheartstillhurts,althoughMarielhaseaseditabitsincethismorning.Ithasbeenquitethe

messed-updayonmyend.Allthethingsshetoldme.Ijustdon’tknowwhattomakeofit.Butit
doesn’tmatter.Wehaveotherissuestodealwithfirst.Namely,thepeopleresponsibleforthewhole
Mr.Corporatefuck-up,asit’snowbeingcalledbyNolan,whowasverypissedoffhewasnot
informedofwhatwashappening,sincetherewasaMr.Romanticfuck-uplastsummerandaless
dangerous,butequallysuspicious,Mr.Perfectfuck-upaboutayearago.

Ivyexplainedthembothtome.AndJesus.Idon’tthinkIcanlookatNolanDelaneythesameway

afterthethingsshedisclosedundertheMrs.totheMisterspactIhadtoswear.

AmIaMrs.toaMister?
“Knock,knock,”Marielsaysbehindme.
Iturnandfindherstandinginthedoorwaywithatall,strikinglybeautifulwomanwithdarkhair

andthemostmesmerizingvioleteyesI’veeverseen.“Hey,”Isay,uncertainwhattomakeofher.I
knowwhosheisjustfromthedescriptionMarielgavemeearlier.VictoriaArias,akaMrs.Corporate.

“Cynthia,”Marielsays.“ThisisVictoria,WestonConrad’sbetterhalf.”
ThethingsMarieldisclosedabouther…Itallrendersmespeechless.IwashopingtoseePax

beforehavingtomeether,justtogivemeabitofcourage.Imean…howtoprocessit?Ijustdon’t
know.ButIsuckitupandwalkovertoher,extendingmyhand.“Nicetomeetyou,Victoria.I’m
Cynthia.Imean”—Ilaugh—“Cinderella.Oliver ’ssister.And…”Ishrug.“Pax’sgirlfriend.Maybe.”

“YoucancallmeTori,”shepurrsinasultry,sexyvoice.
“Oh,OK.Well,youcancallmeCindy.Everyonedoes.Except…”InodmyheadtoMariel.
“I’lljustleaveyougirls,”Marielsays.“Soyoucangettoknoweachotherbetterinprivate.”
Marielleaves,closingthedoorbehindher.
Andthen…shit.Whattosay?
Victoriawalksforwardandtakesaseatinachair,straighteningoutherlavendertopasshedoesit,

thencrossesherracehorselegsthatspilloutofhermicro-miniskirtandfoldsherhandsinherlap.
“Shesaidyouwantedtotalktome?”Torilooksupatmeexpectantly,fulloffireanddefiance.

“Ido,”Isay,takingaseatnexttoherintheotherchair.Jesus.Doesshehavetobesobeautiful?

Andsophisticatedinherflutteryblouseandgiantdiamondring?

Iresisttheurgetolookdownatmygaudysilverbraceletsclinkingonmywrist.Ormyold,worn

Fryebootsthatmostdefinitelymakemelooklikeacowgirlhick,sinceI’mwearingthemwithared
flirtyskirtandblackandwhitetanktopthatsays,CutebutPsychoacrossmygianttits.

I’mnotevengonnabothertryingtojustifythetwopigtailbraidsIhavemyhairintoday.Ithought

itwascutethismorning.Now,standinginfrontofMrs.Corporate,Ijustfeelchildish.

“Well,I’mallears,Cindy.Giveityourbestshot.”
She’sintimidating.Definitelyintimidating.I’msuddenlywishingmymotherwasheretosaywhatI

needtosay.She’dknowhowtohandlethiswoman.She’dtalkcirclesaroundherandthreatentokick

herassifshesteppedoutofline.

ButI’mnotthattalentedinthetough-chickdepartment.I’mmoreofakill-’em-with-quirkiness

kindofgirl.I’mnotsurethat’sgonnaworkwithMrs.Corporate.

“I’m…”Shit.Getittogether,Cindy.You’recapable,andsmart,andverygoodatwhatyoudo.“I’m

justalittleworriedaboutwhathappenedoutthereonPax’sislandsintheExumas.”

“Defineworried,”Torisays,hervoicesmooth.Calm.Confident.
“Well.”Ilaughnervously.“Youalmostgothimkilled.”
“Healmostgotuskilled.”Shetakesadeepbreath—andamoment—tocomposeherself.“SoI’m

notsurewehaveanythingtodiscussaboutthatincident.”

“Butthereason,Tori.SurelyyoucanseetheproblemI’mhaving.”
“Notquite,Cindy,”shesays,unrattled.“Whydon’tyouexplain?”
“HewasdoingittoprotectWeston,Tori.Youknowthat,right?”
“DoIknowthat?”shesays,alittlebitofbitchinessleakingthroughinhertone.“AllIknowisthat

Mr.Mysterioussetusuptobeambushedoutinthemiddleoftheocean.Theyhadmachineguns,
Cindy.Doesthatsoundlikeprotectingus?”

“Nobodycallsthemmachineguns,Tori.Please.AndfromwhatIunderstandPaxhadnochoice.

ThatLiamguycametoourhouse.Ouroffice.Hewasrelentless.Iheardtheentireconversation.It’s
notlikePaxdiditformoney.HediditbecauseLiamthreatenedtohiresomeoneelseifherefused.
AndthereasonLiamwassopissedoffwasbecauseWesthadsomethinghewanted.”

“Well,LiamHenrybeattheshitoutofWestwhenhewasachild,killedhisfather,andthensold

himtoanotherfamily.Doesthatsoundlikesomethingaseven-year-oldcancontrol?”

“Ofcoursenot,”Isay,backingdown.“No.Ididn’tmean…”Shit.“Ididn’tknowthatpart.”
Toriremainssilentforasecond.
“Butyou,”Isay.“Youdon’tknowthewholestoryeither.”
“Sotellme,”shesays,grittingherteeth.“Ifyouknowwhat’shappening,thentellme.Please.

BecauseWestrefusestotalkaboutitanymore.Hesaysit’sbehindus.”

“Clearlyit’snotbehindus,”Isay.
“Clearly.”
AndthisiswhyI’mhere.Tofillherin.I’mtheonlyone,asidefromMariel,whoknowswhat’s

reallygoingonhere.I’vebeenmullingeverythingoverallday.Willingitnottobetrue.WishingI
couldjustwriteoffMarielHawthorneassomedelusionalrichsnobwho’sseentoomanydetective
moviesorreadtoomanycrazybooks.

Buteverythingshetoldmemakessense.Everythingmakessomuchsenserightdowntothepart

thatinvolvesmyfamily.

“Andifyou’dlikeamoreaccuraterundownonwhathappened,”Victoriasnaps,“I’llsaythis.Iwas

runningformylife.IthoughtWestwasdeadatonepoint.IthoughtPaxtonVancewasgoingtokill
me.Andthat’sbeforealltheshitwentdown.Imaginepeopleyoulovebeingtorturedinfrontofyou.
Imaginetheonepersonyoufearmostbeingresponsibleforit.Imagine,”Torisays,theanger
practicallypouringoutofher,“theworstpossibleoutcomeafterallthathappened.”

Iswallowhardandtakeadeepbreath.“I’msorry.”
“Idon’tcareaboutapologies,Cindy.Ihaveaplan.”Shelooksmedeadon.“AndWestwon’teven

listentomebecausehewantstothinkthisisbehindus.Well,I’vegotachildtothinkabout.Myson
isn’tgoingtogrowupwiththisshithangingoverhishead.Andsothereasonwe’reallheretogether
rightnowhadbetterincludethewordsendandgame.Becausethat’swhereI’matrightnow,
CinderellaShrike.End.Game.”

Ittakesmeafewsecondstoletallthatsinkin.Whyarewehere?Marielgavemestrictordersnot

toopenmymouthtoanyoftheMistersuntilshehasachancetotalktoPaxaboutit,butshedidwant

metodiscussitwithTori,sincesheistheonlyoneofusgirlswhowastherewhenthatwholerape
chargeactuallywentdown.

Plus,afterhearingeverythingMarielhadtosayaboutTori,I’vecometotheconclusionthatshe’s

badass.VictoriaAriasisaNikita.SheremindsmeofFive’soldestsister,Sasha,forsomereason.
Capable,smart,and…dangerous.

“Whatkindofplan?”Iask.
Torilooksaway.Staresoutthewindowlikeshe’stryingtofigureoutifshecantrustme.ButI’m

CindyShrike.I’minthisgroupwhethershelikesitornot,whetherPaxtonandIareathingornot.
Mybrotherisinvolved,andbyextension,mysisterAriel.Becausetheyareinbusiness—havebeenin
business—sincethiswholethingstarted.Andeventhoughnooneevertoldme,nooneneededtotell
me.Iknowit’sthebusinessthatgotOliverinvolvedinallthis.WhateverhappenedtohimatBrownis
thereasonheisthewayheistoday.Hewasneversostandoffishbeforethatrapecharge.Hewas
sweet,andfunny,andcharmingjustlikemydad.AndnowOliverisdark,withdrawn,andsecretive.

Ineedtofixthat.AndIcanfixthat.Iknowenoughnow,thankstoMariel,togettothebottomof

thisandsetthingsright.

Torilooksbackatme.“Iknowhowtokillthemboth.”
Mygutclenches.Idon’twanttohearthis.Ireallydon’twanttohearanyofthis.ButIhaveto.

Runningawaywon’tfixthisproblem.Ican’tfallbackonmyoldhabits.Sure,it’sgreattowalkout
whenthingsstarttofeeloverwhelming.Sellyourcar,donateyourclothestoathriftstore,andhitthe
roadwithabackpackandabankaccountknowingyoucanreplaceeverythingyoujustwalkedaway
fromwithverylittleeffort.

ButifIwanttofixOliverIneedtostayhereandparticipateinthesolution.AndIcan’treplace

PaxtonVance.NomatterhowhardItrytotalkmyselfintothatplan,it’snothappening.Somewhere
alongthewaythesepasttwomonths,thingschanged.Ican’tpinpointtheexactmoment.Itmight’ve
beenthatnightwewerejumpingrooftopsinMalibu.Itmight’vebeenthefirstlegitcasewesolved
together.Itmight’vebeenthedayattheraces.I’mnotsure,butitdoesn’tmatterwhen.Theonlything
thatmattersisthatitdid.

SoIsuckitupandask,“Bothwho?”
“Liam,theguybotheringyouandPax.AndLucioGoriSenior.Theguyafterme.”
“That’swho’sresponsibleforallthisbullshit?”Imakeaface.That’snotwhatMarieltoldme.
Torinods.“Theyneedtobetakenout.”
“You’regoingto…havethemkilled?”
Shesmiles.“That’sthebestpart,Cindy.Iwon’thavetodoanythingillegalmyself.Noneofuswill

needtodoanythingillegal.Don’tyousee?Wecanfixit.Allofit.ButIneedhelptopullthisoff.”

“Whosehelp?TheMisters?Idon’twantPaxdoingthiskindofthinganymore.Iwanthimoutof

thiscrazyfixerbusiness.I’vegotbigplansforusandnoneofitincludesputtinghislifeontheline
justtowipeawayotherpeople’smistakes.”

“Oh,PaxtonVancehasnoroleinthisjob,”
“Thenwho?”I’mgettingfrustratednow.Ineedanswersandshe’sbeingcryptic.
VictoriaAriassmilesandwow,shereallyisthemoststrikingwomanI’veeverseen.I’mno

wallflower.IwasborntoamotherwhoputsthebombinbombshellandIlookjustlikeherwhenshe
wasmyage.ButTorihasanotherkindofbeauty.Somethingtimelessandelegant.SheisGraceKelly
tomyBrigitteBardot.“Us.”

“Us?I’mnotsureIlikewherethisisgoing.Youneedtoknowmore.Idon’t—”
“Look,”Torisays,cuttingmeoff.“IknowhowtofixthisbutI’mtheonlyonewhocandoit.Trust

meonthat.”

“Butyoujustsaidus.Asinme—”

“Listen,Cindy.”Buttherearevoicesdownstairsandshestopstalkingtolookwarilyatthedoorfor

asecondbeforeturningherattentionbacktome.“WhateverisgoingonwithyouandMariel,that
needstowait.ThisisanimmediatethreatandI’mjustluckythatLiamHenryandLucioGorihaven’t
struckyet.Theywillkillme.Doyouunderstand?TheywillkillWestandmynewlyadoptedson
Ethanandthentheywillcomelookingforallthelooseendslikeyou,andPax,andIvy,forfuck’s
sake.Doyouwantthatsweetgirltobecollateraldamage?Thesepeoplearedangerous.Theydonot
giveoneshitaboutwhotheyhurtaslongastheygetwhattheywant.”

“Well,whatthefuckdotheywant?”
“Somethingwecan’tgivethem,Cindy.That’stheonlythingthatmatters.Whattheywant,they

can’thave.Andit’snotbecausewe’repartialtoitandwon’tgiveitup.Wedon’thaveitandwecan’t
getit.Butpeoplelikethisdon’tcare,doyouunderstand?”Shestopstotakeabreathbecauseshewas
gettingalittleintensethereforasecond.“Theydon’tcare.Theywillhurtusanyway,justbecause
theycan.Justtoproveapoint.Justtomakesureeveryoneknowsthere’snowayoutonceyou’rein.”

Iexhale.“Well,whatdoyouneedmefor?”
“Backup,”shesaysimmediately.“Ineedyouforbackup,Cindy.You’reaShrikeandIknowwhat

theShrikefamilyiscapableof.”

Allthehairsonthebackofmyneckprickleandtakeoffense.“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
“Thatyou’reonetoughbitch,Cinderella.That’swhatitmeans.AndIneedyou.Ellieisnotlikeus.

She’snotstreet-smartthewayweare.AndIvyispregnant,soevenifshehaditinher,shecan’thelp.I
needyou.”

Aknockatthedoormakesusbothlookatit.
“Hey,”Paxcalls.“Youguysinthere?”
“Comein,”wesaytogether.
InodtoToriandshemouths,Talklater,asPaxopensthedoor.

ChapterTwenty-Six-Paxton

Ineedyou?WhatcouldVictoriapossiblyneedwithCindy?IknockonthedoortoNolan’soffice.

“Hey.Youguysinthere?”

“Comein,”theybothchimeatthesametime.Likethey’renervous.Hidingsomething.
IlookatToriandsquintmyeyes.“Victoria,”Isay,greetingherwithcoldsuspicion.
Shesquintshereyesrightback.“Paxton,”shesays.“Whoareyousupposedtobe?DickTracy?”

Shehuffssomeair.“Well,youandSparklePlentyherehaveagoodtime.Ihavetogetbacktomy
family.”

VictoriapushespastmeandleavesbeforeIcansayanythingelse.
IlookatCindyandsigh.“I’msorry.”
Shelooksmeupanddownandtriestosuppressasmile.“AreyouDickTracy?”
Ilookdownatmytrenchcoatandthentakeoffmyfedora.“Ididn’tmeantobegonesolong.We

just…ranintoafewproblems.”CindysaysnothingandIgetabadfeelingaboutwhatsheand
Victoriamight’vebeentalkingabout.“Did…didVictoriafillyouin?”

“No,”Cindysayssweetly.“No.Iwasupherelookingoutthewindowwaitingforyourcarto

arriveandshecameupwithyourmothertointroduceherself.”

“Hmm,”Imumble.“She’swildanddramatic.Soit’sbesttotakeanythingshesayswithagrainof

salt.Whydidn’tyouanswermycalls?”

Cindytwistsoneofherlongblondebraids.“Igotridofmyphone.Iwasmad.”
“Areyoustill?”
“HowcanIbemadwhenyoushowupherejustinthenickoftime,Detective?”
“CutebutPsycho,MissCookie?”IaskthroughthesmileasInodatheroutfit.Goddamn.Hertits

lookspectacularinthattightt-shirt.“OnanyoneelseI’dchalkthatdeclarationuptoaquirkysenseof
style,butonyouitmakesmenervous.”

Cindytakesasteptowardsme,herbootsthuddingonthehardwoodfloor.Whichmakesmenotice

therestofher.Thelong,tannedlegspeekingoutfromthatshortflirtyskirt.Thejingleofher
braceletsthatremindmeofallthetimessheshowedupatmyhouseinthatzipper-cladleatherjacket.

Itmakessomuchsensenow,howdidn’tIseeitbefore?
“CinderellaShrike,”Isay.Andthenachucklecomesout.“It’severybitassexyasMissSugar

Cookie.”

“I’msorry,”shesays,likeit’sherturntoexplain.“Ishouldn’thaveliedaboutwhoIwas.ButI

knewyou’dneverlooktwiceifyoufoundout.”

“Everyonelookstwice,Cindy.Everyone.”
WestareateachotherforseverallongsecondsandIcan’thelpbutwonderifthingshavechanged

nowthatIknow.

Theyhaven’tforme,that’sforsure.
“Iloveyou,”Isay,takingoffmyridiculousfedoraandholdingittomychest.“Butitmakesme

nervous.”

“Whatdoes?”Cindysays,crossingthedistancebetweenusandplacingherhandonmyarm.Sheis

heat.Eventhoughmytrenchcoatcostume,Icanfeelhertouchlikeweareskinonskin.“Me?Because
I’mOliver ’ssister?Orbecauseyou’reinvolvedinsomethingbiggerthanyouthought?”

Iscowl.“WhatdidVictoriatellyou?”
“Isthatwhatyouwantthisconversationtoturninto?Thejobs?Thework,Pax?Whatyoudo?

WhatIdo?”

“IjustwanttoknowhowmuchIneedtosayrightnow.”
“Aboutwhereyouwere?Whatyouweredoing?Orhowitturnedout?”
“Cindy—”
“No,”shesayssoftly.“Don’t.Youdon’tneedtoprotectme,OK?I’mCinderellaShrike.Igrewup

withthisshit,Pax.DoyoureallythinkIdon’tknowwhatmyfamilywasintobeforeIwasborn?Ido.”

“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Cindyshutsupashereyeswiden.
“Cindy?”Isay.“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“You’remybrother ’sbestfriend,right?Henever…talkedaboutus?Mymomanddad?”
“I’vemetthem,ofcourse.Nicepeople.Yourdadiscoolasfuckandyourmomis…well.It’s

probablynotappropriatetosayanythingelseaboutyourmom.”

ShestaresatmeandforasecondIthinkshe’sgoingtogetmadathowImightperceiveher

mother.Butthenshelaughsloudlyandlooksdownatthoseadorablebootsonherfeet.“Theycallme
theBabyBomb.Imean,you’veseenmysisters,obviously,sowearealllittlebabybombs.ButIam
somuchlikeherinsomanyways.Rorywassuchaprincess—”

“PrincessRory,”Isay,smiling.“Aurora.Whythefuckdidn’tIfigurethisout?”
“Butwe’resoopposite.MysistersareclassyandIam…”Shelooksdownatheroutfit.“Well…

not.I’mnothingbutanexplosionwaitingtohappen.”

“Iwanttofuckyou.”
Cindylaughs.“Why,Detective,”shesays.“That’snotwhatthisconversationisabout.”
“Idon’tcare,Cindy.Idon’tgiveafuckwhosesisteryouare.Idon’tgiveafuckwhatOliverthinks.

AndevenifI’dknownthatfirsttimeyoucametomydoorwithmyfood,there’snowayinhellI’d
everlookatanotherwomanagain.”

“He’scominghere,youknow.”
“Iknow.AndIdon’tcarewhathethinks.I’mgoodforyou.Iam.Iwouldn’tdoanythingtohurt

you,Cindy.Orputyouindanger.You’renotpartofthis,OK?You’renotgoingtogetmixedupin
thiswholeMisterworld.Youwon’t.Icankeepyousafe.Noone,”Isay,pullingherintomychestand
wrappingmyarmstightlyaroundher,“willeverhurtyouaslongasIlive.”

Sherestsherheadonmyshoulderandhugsmeback.Icansmellherhair,andherskin,andher

clothes.Andeverythingaboutherissweetandgoodanddelicious.“It’scutethatyouthinkIneed
protecting.We’llbefine.We’llfigurethisoutandtakecareofit.We’ll—”

“No,”Isay,pushingherbackafewinchessoIcanlookdownatherface.“No.You’renot

understandingme.ThereisnoweinthisMisterproblem.Yes,theotherguysandIwillfigureitout,
butyou’restayingherewithEllie,andIvy,andTori.OliverreallywouldkickmyassifIdraggedyou
intothis.”

“Paxton,”shesays,grabbingholdofmybicepswithbothhands.“He’smybrother.Whathappened

tohimhappenedtometoo.Andyeah,Iwastooyoungtounderstandwhatitallmeantatthetime.ButI
getitnow.Iunderstand.I’masmuchapartofthisasanyone.I’mnotgoingtojustsitbackandlet
thesepeopleputhimindanger.Oryou,forfuck’ssake.”

Iwanttoshakeherrightnow.AskherwhatthefuckVictoriaAriassaid.Whatlittleplanshemight

behatchingandhowshemight’vetriedtoinvolveCindy.Becausethat’sthekindofwomanToriis.
ButIdon’twanttofightaboutthisbullshitnow.“Ihaven’tseenyouinweeks,MissCookie.”My
handsslidedowntoherassandliftupthatflirtylittleskirtuntiltheyarecuppedagainsthercheeks
withonlyhersilkypantiesholdingmeback.

“ThefirsttimeIwalkedinhisofficeIwantednothingmorethantohavehimbendmeoverhis

deskandfuckmefrombehind.”

“Jesus,”Isay.“Yes.”
“Iwantedthewindowshadeswideopensoanyonepassingcouldseeus.”
“Fuck,”Isay,mydickgettinghard.Ihaveafeelingshe’sjusttryingtochangethesubjectaway

fromourreal-worldproblemsbutIdon’treallycare.

“Iwantedhimtosliphisfingersundertheelasticofmypantiesandpullthemdowntomyknees

—”

Idropmyhatonthefloor,turnheraround,andpushherfacefirstontothedesk,liftingherskirt

up,asIgrabherpanties.“Likethis,MissCookie?”Itugonthem.Hard,makinghergaspasIdrag
themdownandkickherlegsopenwithmyfoot.“Spread’em,ma’am.”

Shegiggles,butcomplies,soherpantiesarestretchedtautatherknees.“Ihopeyouhaveawarrant

forthisillegalsearch,Detective.”

“Idon’tneedawarrant,MissCookie.You’reminenow.AndI’llsearchyouwheneverIwant.”My

fingertipslightlytraceherinnerthighasIbenddown.Sheshiversandarchesherback,suckingina
breathatmysofttouch.“Ithinkyoumightbehidingsomething.”

ShegigglesagainasIkissthatlittledentbehindherkneeandmakemywayupthebackofherleg.

“WherecouldIpossibly—Oh,”shesighs,whenInipherasscheek.

“Yeah,‘oh’isright,”Imumble,inhalinghersweetscentasIplacebothhandsonherassandbegin

tolickbetweenherlegs.Shetrembleswhenmyfingerfindsherclitandbeginstostroke.

“MyGod,”shesays,herbreathcomingquicker.“I’mreadytoconfess.”
“You’renotgettingoffthateasy,youlittletrollop.”Herlaughisloud.Andhappy.Andholyfuck,

shemakesmesodamnhappyback.“Iknowyouwon’ttellmethetruthunlessIeaseitoutofyou.So
maybeIneedtoeasesomethingintoyou”—Iinsertafingerintoherpussy,searchingforthetrigger
tomakehercrazywithlust—“togetyourfullattention.”

“Pax,”shemoans.
“That’sDetectivePaxtoyou.”
“Detective—”Butshecan’tfinishbecausemytongueisswirlingaroundtherimofherperfect

littlepuckeredasshole.Herarmsgoaboveherheadonthedeskandshestretchesforward,givingme
moreaccess.“Iwanttocomerightnow.Alloveryourface.”

Istandupandsmackherass,leavingaperfectredhandprintonherrightcheek.“Notyet,mypretty

littlecookie.I’mjustgettingstarted.Dessertcancomelater.Muchlater.”

Ipullherupandquicklyspinheraround,herbigblueeyeswidewithsurprise,andwant,and

everythingthatmakesamanhappywhenhe’swithawoman.Ilifthershirtup,findasweet,pale-pink
braunderthatgraphictee,andlickmylipsasIstudythewayherbreastspracticallyspilloutaround
thewhiteeyeletlace.

“I’mgonnahavemycakeandeatittoo,Sugar.Theysayitcan’tbedone,butit’shappening.Right

now.”Ipushhersosheisforcedtoliebackonthecold,hardsurfaceofthedesk.Herchestisrising
andfallingwiththeanticipationofwhat’scoming.God,sheissodamnhot.“Imissedyou,”Isay
impulsively.“Didyoumissme?Orwasiteasytomoveonandforget?”

“Detective,”shewhispers.“IfIdidn’tknowbetter,I’dthinkyouweresmittenwithme.”
“Youhavebeentheonlythingonmymindforweeks.Callitwhateveryouwant,”Isay,looking

downandnoticingthatherpantieshavedroppedtoherankles.Ireachdown,tugthemaroundher
boot,andthenputtheminmytrenchcoatpocketforlater.Shegivesmeaknowingsmirk,butIdon’t
care.Ikickherlegsopenagain,thenreachdown,grabunderherknees,andhikethemuptoherchest.

HereyestrackmineasIlowermyselfinfrontofheropenpussy.She’sglisteningwithreadiness,

butI’mjustgettingstarted.

Onesweepofmytongueisallittakestomakehermoan.“Ifyoumakemesquirtonthisdesk—”
Ilaughloudlyjustpicturingit.“MissCookie,ifImakeyousquirtalloverNolanDelaney’sdesk,

mylifewillbecomplete.Iwillholdthatoverhisheadfordecadestocome.Punintended.”

Shelaughs,reachingforthecollarofmycoat,pullingmyfacetohersbeforeIcanobject.
Thekississweet.Herfulllipstastelikestrawberries.Ourtonguesdancetogetherlikewe’vebeen

practicingthesemovesforalifetime.Herhandsareinmyhair,onmyface,thenherfingernailsdig
intomyarms.“Youhavetoomanyclotheson.Iwanttofeelyourskin.Takeoffthatridiculouscoat.”

“Areyouorderingmearound?”IlaughintohermouthasIkissheragain.
“Please,”shebegs.“Takeitoff.”
Istandup,shrugthecoatoff,andthenslipmyt-shirtovermyhead.Shestaresatmychestbefore

loweringhergaze,eyeslingeringontheprecisemusclesofmystomach.Sheflattensbothpalmsonto
myskinasheatcreepsintomybody.

“You’rebeautiful,”shesays.“Youknowthat?”
Ishakemyhead.Veryslowly.“You’relookin’inthemirror,Sugar.It’snotmeyou’reseein’.”
Shebitesherlip,eyesbrightwithmischief.“Andsweettoo.”
“I’mnottheonecoveredinsprinkles,MissCookie.”
“I’mgoingtomarryyou,yaknow.”
Ileandownandtakeherfaceinmyhands,fingertipsbrushingsmallcirclesagainsthercheeksasI

stareintoherblueeyes.“Andhavemybabies?”Iask.“Littlebabysugarcookies?”

“Maybelittlebabybrownies,”shewhispers.Andthenshefrowns.Deeply.Andwhispers,“Don’t

leavemelikethatagain.Iwassosad.”

Oh,God.Iamsadtoo,justthinkingaboutit.“I’mreallysorryIdidthat.Iwasjustbusy,Cindy.And

itwasconfusingandbeinghiredtokillafriendiskindafuckedup.”

“Iwould’vehelpedyou.”
“No,”Isay.“Imean,Iknowyou’recapable.Butno.Idon’twantyouinvolvedinanyofthis.”
“I’malready—”
“Shhh,”Iwhisper,kissinghermouthtostopthisconversation.“Later.Wehaveforevertotalk

aboutthis.ButrightnowallIwanttodoisenjoyeverythingaboutyou.”Beforeyourbrothergetshere
andwehavetodukeitout,Idon’tadd.

Shesees—ormaybesenses—whatI’mthinkingandfrownsagain.Itmakescreasesinherforehead

asherlittlenosescrunchesup.Butshedoesn’tpushit.Instead,shereachesdownandbegin
unbucklingmybelt.Shesays,“Iwanttotakeoffyourpants.”

ChapterTwenty-Seven-Cindy

Myfingersfumblewithnervousness.Isuddenlyamshaking,unabletocontrolmybody’sreactions

toeverythingthathashappenedoverthepastseveralweeks.

“Cindy,”Paxsays,hishandstakingoverforthetaskIamseeminglyunabletocomplete.Hisbelt

opens,thebucklejinglingasheguidesmyfingertipstothebuttononhisjeans.Imanagethat,the
rapidbeatingofmyheartstillmakingmeuneasy,andthendragthezipperdown.

Paxiseagerandreadyforme,pullinghisharddickfromhisboxerbriefsandpumpinghimselfa

fewtimesbeforeonceagainguidingmyhandtowhereitshouldautomaticallybe.

Igazeupathim,expectinghimtoaskquestions.Buthiseyesarehalf-mastandfilledwithdesire.

“Youreallyarebeautiful,”Isay.ThepartofmeinthemomentisunabletodenywhatIfeelwhenI
lookathisfaceorhisbody.“Ireallydoloveyou.”

“Ireallydoloveyouback.Idon’tcarewhatOliversaysaboutthis.It’sreal.Andit’sours,nothis.

Hehasnosayinanything.”Hissmileresetstheunevenbeatingofmyheart,andjustassuddenlyasit
came,myanxietypasses.Thethumpety-thumpisnormalizedtojustplainoldthump-thump.“Iwanna
bewithyou.Notjusttoday,butforever.Iwannawakeupeverymorningthinkingaboutthemoment
wewillfallasleeptogetherthatnight.Iwanttodrinkmintjulepswithyou,andmargaritas,andstarta
newlifethathasnothingtodowiththepast.Iwantallofthat.ButrightnowIjustwannawatchyou,
Cindy.Suckmycock,takeitdownyourthroat,swallowme.AndthenI’mgonnafuckyouuntilyou
scream.”

Iamnothingbutheat.Mywholebodyfloodswithwarmth.Mypussyiswetandthrobbingforhim.

Readytoforget,ifjustforamoment,what’sreallyhappeninghere.

Ideservethismoment.Ireallydo.
SoIgrabhisbicepsandsitup.Iplacebothpalmsflatonhischestandpush,justslightly.Just

enoughtomakehimtakeonestepbackandgivemeroomtosinktomykneesbetweenhimandthe
desk.

WhenIlookupI’mtheonewho’ssmilingnow.“Areyoureadytopickupwhereweleftoff?”
“Sofuckingready.”
Iopenmymouth.Heletsoutalongbreathofanticipationandslowlypumpshisthickcockupand

downasmytonguereachesforhistip.Ilick.Once.Twice.Myeyestrainedonhisastheyclose.His
handsareonmyhead,fingertipstracingdownmylongbraidsasItaketheheadofhiscockinmy
mouthandsuck.Hefistsmybraids,openshislust-filledeyesforamoment,thenslowlyurgesmeto
takehimdeeper.

IopenaswideasIcan,takinghimthewayhewants.LettinghimfillmeupuntilIcan’ttakeany

moreandbegintogag.

“Breathe,”Paxsays,encouragingme.
Ido.Ibreathethroughit,placingmyhandsflatonhisthighssoIcanpushhimawayifitgetstobe

toomuch.ButjustasIdothat,heletsgotofmyheadandplaceshishandsontopofmine,slowly
movinghishipsbackandforthasheguidesmyfingerstohisballs.

IfIdidn’thavehiscockinmymouth,I’dsmile.Instead,Ichuckle,thevibrationsofmyvocalcords

hittinghiminjusttherightway,becausehemoansandhishandsresumetheirpositiononmyhead.
Urging.MoreandmoreurgingtotakehiminasfarasIcan.

Droolstartsslippingpastmylips,drippingdownontomyrightknee,anditonlymakesmewantto

tryharder.

“Mmmm,”Imurmuraroundhishotflesh.
Paxreachesdownandtwistsmynipple,makingmegroanwithsurpriseattheacutetwingeofpain.

Idrawbackoutofinstinct,buthishipsfollowme,keepingusconnected.“Stopme,”hesays.“Stop
meifyoudon’tlikeit.ButIlikeit.”

Ilookupathimandfindagenuinelookofconcernonhisface.Myheadmovesforward,taking

himdeeper.OnehandstillfondlinghisballsastheotherslideshispantsdownfarthersoIcanplay
withhisasshole.

“Fuck,”hesays,throwinghisheadback.“Fuck.Cindy—”
Iknowhelikesit.Iknowhewantsmore.Iknowhewantsittobedirty,andsweaty,andsticky.
Iwantthattoo.SoIpullback,thenthrustforward.Iletthetipofhisdickbumpupagainsttheback

ofmythroat.Iwelcomethegagreflex.Iwelcomethedroolspillingoutofmymouth.Idoitagain,
andagain,andagainuntilheisgrippingmyheadtootight,somyscalpbeginstotingle.

Thelastthrustforwardendswithmepullingallthewaybackuntilhislong,hardcockfallsoutof

mymouth.

Paxopenshiseyes,butIholduponefingerandsay,“Justbepatient.”
AndthenIgetunderneathhim.Hishugeballsdangleinfrontofmyfaceandmytongueflicksout,

reachingforthem.FlickingagainstthemuntilmyhandgrabsholdandIopenmymouthwiderand
suckthem.

“I’mgonnacome,”hesays.“I’mgonnacomedownyourthroat.”
AndI’mgonnahelphimdothat.
Mymouthgoessearchingforhiscockagain.Itakehiminallatoncethistime.Myheadbobbing

backandforth,thedroolcoatingmychin,fallingontomybreastsasmyfingerisstilltracingthe
outlineofhisasshole.

Hegripsmyhairtighter—ifthat’spossible—andthesaltytasteofsemenfillsmymouth,thenmy

throat.

Iswallowallofitashethrustshishipsatmyface.Andwhenthewaveofcontractionsslowsto

almostnothing,IpullbackandlookuptomeethisgazewhenIlickmylips.

“Yourturnnow,”hesays.
Amomentlaterhe’spulledmetostandingandhe’swalkingmearoundthesideofthedeskwhere

thelargeexecutivechairiswaiting.Hesits,holdingmyhand,andthenpointstohislap.

“Iwanttosmackthatass,CindyShrike.Notbecauseyou’rebad.JustbecauseIlikeit.”
“Ummm…”
“Lieacrossmyknee,Cindy.”Hiseyesarestillheavyfromtheorgasmbuthisvoiceisclearand

commanding.

“Youwanttospankme?”Iaskthroughasmile.
“Turnthatfuckingassred.”Hepauses.“You’llenjoyit,Ipromise.”Thenhepatshiskneewithone

handandencirclesmywaistwiththeother.“Righthere,Sugar.”

Istumbleforward,kindaturnedon.Kindaturnedoff.Notsurewhatthismeansorwhyhelikesit.

ButIbendoversomyhipsarecenteredonhislap,andletmyheadandlegsdangleoverthesideof
thechair.

“You’redoubtingme,aren’tyou?”
“Ijustdon’tgetit.Butproceed,Detective.PerhapsyouknowsomethingIdon’t.”
Heleansforwardsohismouthiscloseenoughtomyeartohearhimwhisper,“Iknowallthe

ways,allthethings,allthesecrets,Cinderella.”Hishandslidesmyskirtupandthecoolairfromthe
AChitsmybareass.“Sodon’trushtojudgment.”Thelightpressureofhisfingertipstracingaline

downthecreaseofmyassandintotheheatbetweenmylegsmakesmesuckinabreath.

“Keepgoing?”heasks.Icanpracticallyhearhimsmile.
Iswallow.“Yes.Keepgoing.”
HewithdrawshishandfrombetweenmylegsandI’mimmediatelywishingforhimtodoitagain.

Butinsteadofgoingrightformymostsensitiveparts,hispalmglidesacrosstheroundcurveofmy
cheeks,barelyskimmingthesmallopeningbetweenmythighs.

“You’regoingtoteaseme?”Iask.
NoanswerfromMr.Mysterious.Justanotherlightpassofhishandacrosstheplacewheremylegs

meetmyass.Thenanother,andanother.UntilI’mrelaxed,myeyesclosed,enjoyingthesensation.
AndIcanfeelhiscockunderneathmegrowingbigger,andgettingthickerwitheachpassingmoment.

IhearthecrackofhishandbeforeIevenrealizethepain.Mybackbucksalittle,makingme

wobbleonhislap.“Damn,Paxton.”

“Shhh,”hesays,continuingwithhislighttouches.Myassisheatingupandthekinkhasbarely

started.Thistimehisfingertipsdipjustalittledeeperintothatspacebetweenmylegsandoncehe
evenbumpsupagainstmyclit.

Ibitemylipandwishformorewhenhedoesn’tdoitagain.
“Doyoulikeit?”
“You’reteasingme.”
“It’sagoodteasethough,right?”Andjustasthelastwordisoutofhismouth,thatflickofhis

fingeronmypussyashishandpassesovermycheeks.

“Yes,”Isay.Anothercrackechoesoffthetallceilingsoftheoffice.Andthenanother.“Ow!”
Butagain,hisfingertipsarethereonmyclit.Asmall,barelydetectibleticklethathasme

squirming.

“Holdstill,”hesays,anothersmacklandinghard.AndI’mjustabouttositupandsmackhimback

whenhispalmflattensoutoverthestingingheatradiatingacrossmybottom.“I’mnotlettingyouget
away,Cinderella.Someonehastolearnwho’sinchargehere.”

“Who’sin—Ow!JesusfuckingChrist,Mysterious!Whatthehell?”
“Itoldyoustayput,didn’tI?”
“Paxton,yousaidyouwantedtodothisbecauseitwas—Ow!”
“Fun?”heasks.“Itisfun.ButwhenItellyoutostayput,MissCookie,Ineedtoknowyou’llstay

put.OtherwisehowdoIknowyou’resafe?”

Iturnmybodyjustenoughtolookupathim.“Youarepunishingme?”
Hisfingersaretracingthatpatternalongmylegsagain.Teasing.Again.Becausenothingeven

remotelycomesclosetotouchingmypussythistime.“I’mnotpunishingyou.Thisfeelstoogoodto
bepunishment.I’mjustshowingyouthatyoucantrustme.SothenexttimeIwantyoutodo
somethingthatwillkeepyousafe,you’lldoitwithoutquestion.”

“That’snotfair,”Isay.“You’retheonewholeftanddidn’tsendamessage.”
“Whichiswhywe’rehavingfunrightnow.Andwhyyouonlyhaveoneasscheekredinsteadof

two.”

“Youcan’tthreatenme,Paxton.”
“Doyouwantmetostop?”heasks,raisinganeyebrow.“Really?Becausewehaven’tevengotten

tothegoodpartyet.”

Isquintmyeyesathim.“Whatgoodpart?”
“Thepartwhereyoucome,ofcourse.Icame,nowit’syourturn.”
“Butyouwanttosmackthecomeoutofme?”
AnothercrackonmyassandI’mabouttojumpupwhenheleansoverandtrapsmetherebeneath

hischest.“Stopresisting,Cinderella.Justgiveinandtrustme.”Heleansclosertomyearand

whispers,“Doyoutrustme?”

Irelaxanddropmyhead.“Yes.”BecauseIdo.Iknowhe’sgotaplanhere.AndIknowitendswith

satisfaction.Sowhybotherfightingit?

Herubsmyassagain,histouchrougher,hiscirclesovermyskinlarger.Andthenanothersmack.

ThistimeIsuckinairandbitemylip,butdon’tbuckmybackinprotestbecausehe’sgothis
fingertipsbetweenmylegsandthistimethelightpassovermyclitlingersandheplayswithit.

“WhateverVictoriatoldyouwhenyouwerealoneinherewithherneedstobeforgotten.Doyou

understand?”

Iwanttosay,Whatdoyoumean?Or,Shedidn’ttellmeanything.ButIknowwhathemeansandshe

didtellmesomething.He’sgoteveryrighttobesuspicious.She’saskingmetohelpherdo
somethingnoneoftheMisterswillsignoffon.Itwillputherindanger,itwillputmeindanger,and
itmightputeveryoneelseindangertoo.

“Deal?”Paxasksafterlettingmethinkforafewmoments.
“Deal,”Isay.
“Good,”Paxsays,urgingmetogetupoffhislap.Hehelpsme,andthenwebothgetup.
“Ithoughtyouweregoingto—”Buthe’sgotmebentoverthedeskagainbeforeIcanfinish.
“Oh,Ihavenointentionofdenyingyouanything,MissCookie.”Heliftsmyskirtoncemoreand

grabsmyhipsandpositionsmebykickingmylegsopen.“I’mhappytofuckyounow.”

Hiscockfindsmypussywetandready.HeeasesintomewaytooslowlyforhowturnedonIam

rightnow.Icanstillfeelthestingofhisspankings.Icanstillimaginetheticklesensationofhim
playingwithmyclit.Andit’sthrobbingrightnow.MylowerbodyisstaggeringlyweakasIwaitfor
himtofullyenterme.

Hiscockisrockhard,hisgirthstretchingme,makingmeopenmylegswidertoaccommodate

him.Heleansforward,takesmyhands,andslidesthemalongthesurfaceofthedeskuntiltheyare
abovemyhead.Hetightlygrabsbothwristswithonehandandthenbothmylongbraidswiththe
other.

“Hard?”heasks.“Orsoft?”
Idon’tevenneedtothinkaboutit.“Hard,”Isay.
Hepullsout,almostallthewayout,andthenramshimselfbackinsidemewithsomuchforce,I

slideforwardonthedesk.Igrunt,buthe’sdoingitagain,sothegruntturnsintoamoan,turnsintoa
long,whimperingsongof,“Yes,yes,yes…”

Ourskin-on-skincontactmakesaslappingsound.Hislarge,hardballsareslammingagainstmy

clit.Onehandisfistingtheskinofmyhip,whiletheotherhasmybraidsandhe’spullingmyhead
back,andback,andback…untilhesays,“Openyoureyes,Cindy.Andwatchwhatyoudotome.”

Ido.Iopenthem.AndhisfaceiseverythingIeverdreamedofwhenIpicturedmyselfwithMr.

Mysteriousasateenager.Pure,testosterone-filledmaleness.Heleansdowntokissme,bitingmylip,
thenmytongue,andthenhesays,“Come.”

Iwail.HishandclampsovermymouthaseverythingI’veeverwantedcomestofruition.Wave

afterwaveofspasmingorgasm.Hisfingersarethereonmyclittobringitallhomeandtheensuing
floodofwetnesscanonlymeanonething.

Idid,infact,squirtalloverMr.Romantic’sdesk.
Paxislaughing,I’mcollapsedonthedesk,mylegssoweak,theytremble.
Butthenthereisaloudruckusoutsidethedoor.
“Shit,”Paxsays.
“What?Whatisthat?”
ButPaxhasletgoofmeandhe’spullinguphispants.“Getdressed,”hesays.“Quick!It’syour

brother.”

Oh,fuck.
Iscramblearoundlookingformyt-shirt,thenhikeitovermyheadjustassomeonepoundsloudly

onthedoor.

“Pax?”Oliveryellsfromtheotherside.“Whatthefuckareyoudoing?”Thedoorknobjigglesas

hetriestoopenit,butthankfullyit’slocked.

IglancearoundasIsmoothdownmyshirtandmakesuremygirlsarebothtuckedneatlyintomy

bra.ButthenIcatchsightofmyreflectionintheglareofthewindowandrealizethere’snowayout
ofthis.

Myhairisamess.Ilookaswell-fuckedasanycheatingwifeI’veeverfollowedafterpullinga

noonerwithanillicitlover.

IwhirlaroundtofindPaxjustasOliverbeginscrashinghisbodyintothedoor,tryingtobreakthe

lock.I’mreachingforPax,desperatetosmoothdownhishairashestraightenshisshirt,whenOliver
comescrashingthrough.

HeglaresatPaxtonforamoment,breathinghard,nostrilsflaring,eyesasangryasI’veeverseen

them.Andthenhelooksatme.

Andeverybitofthatevaporates.“Cindy,”hesays,calm,pullingontheendofhisshirtalittle,like

he’stryingtocomposehimself.

“Oli,”Isay,smiling.Hopinglikehellhe’snotgoingtostartshit.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
OliverglancesatPaxton,grindshisteethandclencheshisjawforasecond.“Justlookingformy

bestfriend.”Helooksbackatme.“Hey,Cin,we’vegotafewthingstotalkabouthere.Whydon’tyou
gojointheotherMissesinthekitchen?Ihearthey’remakingdinner…orsomething.”

Mymouthopensinshock.“Didyoujusttellmetogotothekitchen?”
“Cindy,”Paxsays.Ilookoverathimandheshakeshishead.“Go.I’llcatchupwithyoulater.”
“Yeah,”Oliversays,crackinghisknuckles.“He’llcatchuplater.”
Isigh,resignmyselftothefactthatIwasjustdismissed,andwalkoutintothehallwaywhereall

theMistersarewaiting,wideeyes,mouthshangingopen—IgetanangrylookfromMr.Romanticas
hefiguresoutwejustfuckedinhisoffice—andthenIspyVictoriabeckoningmeatthebottomofthe
stairs.

Idon’tlookbackwhentheofficedoorslamsandIpretendnottoheartheyellingthatcomesafter.I

justfollowVictoriathroughthebustlinghotel,pasttherestaurant,anddownalonghallwaywherewe
stopinfrontofoneofthosedoubleswingingdoorsyoufindincommercialkitchens.

“Well,”shesays.“Iguessthat’stheendofthatfriendship.”
“That’snottrue,”Isay,immediatelyirritatedwithher.“They’rebestfriends.They’regonnawork

itout.”

“Hmm,”Victoriasays.“Abestfrienddoesn’tusuallyfuckthebabysisterinhisotherfriend’s

office.Butwhatever.Theycanhavetheirlittlefight.Alltheimportantstuffisgoingoninhere
anyway.”AndthensheswingsthedooropenandIseealltheotherMisses,plusmybigsisterAriel,
huddledaroundalongstainlesssteeltable.

“Well,”Arielsays,oncetheyallnoticeus.“Lookwhoitis.Thewanderingprincesshasfinally

beencorralled.”

“Don’tbedramatic,Ari,”Isay,wavingahandather.“Butwhatareyoudoinghereanyway?

What’sallthisstuffgottodowithyou?”

Shegrabssomethingoffthetableandholdsitupintheair.Ittakeseveryounceofself-controlnot

todoubleoverandgetsickatthesightofwhatshe’sholding.“Whatthe—wheredidyougetthat?”I
whisper,myhandovermyheartasIstareattheshinysilverenvelope.

“Itcametotheofficeinthemail,Cinderella.Andit’saddressedtoyou.”

ChapterTwenty-Eight-Paxton

BothOliverandIwatchCindyretreatthroughthedoor.IcatchaglimpseofNolan,Mac,Five,and

Westlingeringjustoutsidethedoorbeforesheclosesitbehindher.Andthenweturnandfaceeach
other.

“Fuckyou,”Oliversays.“Justfuckyou.Fuckyou.Fuckyou.Fuckyou.”Hepokesmeinthechest

withhisfingereachtimehesaysit,butthelasttimehepusheswithhiswholepalmandIhavetotakea
stepback.

“Look—”
“No,youfuckinglook.”Oliversnarlsthewordsout.“Youfuckinglook,asshole.Mysister?”He

pauseslikehe’sstillunabletocometotermswithit.“Mybabyfuckingsister,Pax?Justwhatthefuck?
Whydon’tyoujustratmeouttothepolicewhileyou’reatit?Huh?Orchopmeupandfeedmetothe
poor?Hey,Igotanidea,whydon’tIjustfuckingpunchyourlightsout?”

Theblowcomeshard,smackingagainstmyjaw.I’mnotexpectingit,somyheadsnapstotheside

andmyearstartstoring.

ThesecondblowclipsmylipandbloodspraysoutontoOliver ’swhitethermalshirt.
Iseered.Iduckmyheadandbull-chargehim,straightintothedesk.Hegoesflyingoverit

backwardsinsomekindofcircussomersaultandactuallylandsonhisfeetontheoppositeside.

Ileanover.
Hemeetsmeinthemiddle.
Eyetoeye.
“Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?”heasks.
“Whatthefuckdoyouwantmetosay,Oliver?Ilikeher,OK?Shecametome.Ididn’t…like…

seekheroutoranything.Shecameontome,man.AtmyfuckinghouseinMalibu.Ididn’tknow!”

“That’sfunny,”Oliversays,hisrageabouttospillover.“BecauseIdistinctlyrememberyou

spittingoutyourdrinkatCorporate’shousetwoweeksagowhenImentionedIhadasisternamed
Cinderella.”Oliverstartswalkingaroundthedeskashetalks.“Youdidn’tthinkitwasrelevantthen?
Insteadyoudecidetokeepitasecret,tellfuckingPerfectbeforeme,andthenproceedtobangherin
Nolan‘sickfuck’Delaney’sofficewhileeveryoneelseisdownstairs!”

He’sstandinginfrontofmeagain.Fistsclenching.
“Ifyouswing,”Iwarnhim.“I’llswingback.”
He’sinmotionbeforeIfinishandheconnectswithmycheekbeforeIcanblock.
ButOK.Igetitnow.
It’safight.
Iswingback,cliphiminthejawjustbeforeheducks,andthenheramsme,headfirst,pushingme

intothewall.Picturesfalloff,andthedoorfliesopen.Nolanisstandingtherepointingatusashe
roars,“Knockitthefuckoff!”

ButIbarelyhearitbecauseOliver ’snextswingalsoconnects,thistimewiththesideofmyhead.

Myearabsorbsthesecondshotinlessthantwominutesandringsevenlouder.

ThenMacandWesthavemebythearmsandFiveandNolanarepushingOliverbacktotheother

sideoftheroom.

“That’senough,”Fivesays,whenOlivercontinuestoshoutatme.“That’senough.”

OliverturnsonFivethen.“Howlonghaveyouknownaboutthis?”
“Me?”Fivelaughs.“Ifoundoutlastnight.Icametoyoutoday.Andnowyouknowtoo.Sodon’t

gomixingmeupwiththerestofthisbullshit,OliverShrike.Rememberwhothefuckyouare.”

“IknowwhoIam,”Oliversays,swipingthebackofhishandacrosshisbleedinglip.“But”—he

pointstotherestofus—“Idon’tknowwhothefucktheseguysareanymore.I’lltellyouthatright
now.Ihavenofuckingcluewhoyouguysare.IthinkI’mdonehere.IthinkI’mout.Fuckyou,”he
says,pointingtome.ThenNolan.“Andyouandyoursickshit.Andyoutoo,asshole”—toPerfect
—“youandyourdo-gooderbullshitcanjustallgotohell.”

“Whataboutme?”Westsays.
“You’retheworstofallofthem,Corporate.”Oliversneershisname.“Youlielikeamotherfucker.

Ihateliars.”

“Justcalmthefuckdown,”Isay,shruggingWestandMacoffme.“It’snottheendoftheworld.

Andyou’reonetotalk,dickhead.Noneofusareinnocent,OK?Notevenyou.”

“Notevenme?”Oliversays,spittingbloodontothefloorofNolan’soffice.
“Nice,”Nolansays,takingaswipeatOliver ’sshoulder.“Nicefuckingmanners,Shrike.”
ButOliverdoesn’tevennotice.He’sglaringatme.Hisblueeyesaretinyslitsofangerandhe

peersatmefromunderhismessed-upblondhair.He’sabigguy.Notastallasme,butadamnbig
guy.Helookedlikealinebackerevenasafreshmanincollege.Helookedrough.Butnow—withhis
bicepsbulgingagainstthetightfabricofhislong-sleevedShrikeBikesthermal,tattoospeekingout
fromunderneaththecollar,sweatpouringdownthesideofhisjawashetriestocontainhisanger—
hejustlooks…dangerous.

“It’snottheendoftheworld,”Oliversays,repeatingmywords.“Toyou.ButIhadonesister,

PaxtonVance.Onesisterwhowassmallerthanmeallgrowingup.Onebabysisterwholookedupto
measherprotectorinsteadofdownonmelikeanannoyance.Andyoujuststoleheraway.”

“Oliver,”Macsays.“Comeon,man.It’snotlikethatandyouknowit.”
ButOlivershrugshimoffwhenhetriestoclaphimontheshoulder.“Howthefuckwouldyou

know?”Andthenhelooksatallofus.“Howthefuckwouldanyofyouknow?”HepointsatMac.“Do
youhavealittlesister?Oryou,Nolan?WhothefuckknowswithWest,he’ssuchagoddamnedliar.”

“Hey,”Westprotests.
“Ido,”Fivesays.
“Iknowyoudo,asshole.”Oliverdoesn’ttakehiseyesoffme.
“SoIgetit.WhichiswhyItoldyourightaway.Butlook,you’rebestfriendswithPaxfora

reason,right?”

Oliverjustshakeshishead.
“Youknowhe’lltakegoodcareofher.”
OliverbreakshisdeathstareatmetolookatFive.“Takegoodcareofher?Areyoufucking

kiddingme?”

“Oliver—”Isay.
“No.”Hecutsmeoff.“No.Youcan’ttakegoodcareofher.Youjustfuckedher,Vance.Youjust

fuckedher.”

“Look,”Isay.“Igetit.Theofficewasn’tappropriate—”
“No,shit,asshole,”Nolansays.“Weareafuckinghotel,youknow.”
“Ican’tbelieveyouguys,”Oliversays.“Youthinkthisisfunny?”Hestaresatus.Allofus,oneata

time.Andthenhisgazelandsbackonme.“I’mnottalkingaboutfuckingher,Pax.I’mtalkingabout
fuckingherover.”

ForasecondIthinkhe’stalkingaboutmecheatingorsomething.I’mabouttoprotestwhenit

finallyhitsme.

“YouaskeveryoneifI’mnormal,”Oliversays,pointingatWest.“‘Whydoesn’thedateanyone?

Whydoesn’thehaveagirlfriend?Howcanaguyrunadatingsiteandnothaveagirlfriend?’Well,
I’lltellyouassholeswhy,”hesays,snarlingthelastwordlikeawildanimal.“Becauseyoudon’tpack
otherpeopleintoyourfucked-upbaggageandtakethemonthetrip.Ifthere’sonethingmydadmade
meunderstandwhenallthatshitwentdowntenyearsago,thatwasit.Youtraveltoyourdestination
alone.Youdon’tbringanyonealongfortheride.”

Helooksbackatmeandeverythingbecomesclear.
“Youjustgotherinvolved,Pax,”hesays,pokingmeinthechestsohardIhavetotakehalfastep

back.“Youjustpackedherbagsandputheronarunawaytraintonowhere.Whoeverisdoingallthis,
they’regonnacomeafterhertoo.Socongratulations,Mr.Mysterious.You’reprobablygonnagetmy
littlesisterkilled.”

ChapterTwenty-Nine-Cindy

VictoriasnatchestheenvelopefromAri’shandandflingsitontothetable.Itgoesslidingacross

thestainlesssteelanddropsofftheedgeontothefloor,outofsight.“Shecanworryaboutherjunk
maillater,OK?Wehaveaseriousfuckingproblem.”

“Wait,”Isay,lookingatmysister.“DoIgetmailattheofficeoften?”
“Nope,”Arielsays.“ThisisthefirsttimethatIknowof.”Andthenshenarrowshereyesatmelike

she’sgotafollow-upquestion.

“OK,”acuteblondewomansays,refocusingourattention.“Look,we’reallonedgerightnow.

Noneofusknowwhat’sgoingon—”

“Iknowwhat’sgoingon,Ellie,”Victoriasnaps.“Iknowexactlywhat’sgoingon.”
Andthenshe’srattlingonamileaminuteaboutLiamHenryandthatguynamedGoriandthefact

thatherfatherwastorturedtodeath.

Whichtotallysucks.Completelysucks.ButI’mslowlyedgingmywayaroundthetableuntilthe

silverenvelopelieslikeabadomenonthefloornexttomyfeet.Iwanttobenddownandpickitup,
butIcan’t.Notwithoutbeingnoticed.SoIkickitunderthetableandtrytofollowtheconversation.
Trynottothinkaboutwhat’sinsidethatenvelope.Trynottoimagineallthemany,manywaysthis
situationjustgotinfinitelyworse.

“Whatcanwedo?”Ivyasks.
“You’renotdoinganything,”Victoriasays.“You’repregnantsoyou’renotdoinganything.And

you”—VictorianodstotheonecalledEllie—“you’rejustnotcutoutforstufflikethis,OK?Ineed
CindyandAriel.”

“Wait,”Isay,finallycatchingup.“What’sArielgottodowiththis?”
“Jesus,Cindy,”Arielsays.“Ifyou’dstopbyhomeonceinawhile,maybeyou’dknow.”
“Knowwhat?”Pleasetellmeshedidn’tgetasilverenvelopetoo.
“I’vebeenworkingwithPaxandOliveronthisshitsinceithappened.Iknoweverything.”Ari

nodstoIvy.“IknowaboutwhathappenedtoyouonMartha’sVineyard—”

“Wait.What?”Iask.
ButAriignoresmeandnodstoEllie.“IknowthatAllenjerkreappearedinyourlifeandEllen

Abrahamwascausingtroubleatyourwork.”

“WhoisEllen?Allen?Whatthehellis—”
“Iknowabouttheisland,Tori.Everything.Includingwhathappenedtoyourfather.Butmostofall,

IamtheonlyonewhoknowswhathappenedtoOliverthatnight.”

Thatnight.
Justhearingthosetwowordsmakesmesick.
“Whathappened?”Ivyasks.“Whatpartdidheplay?”
ButArijustshakesherhead.“Sorry,it’snotmystorytotell.”
“Well,goodforyouAriel,”Victoriasays.“ButIknowwho’sresponsible.LiamHenrysetupWest

andIbecauseLucioGoriJuniorwantedmedead.Nowhe’sdead,buthisfatherisstillalive.AndI’m
sureWestwantstothinkhisparents”—shedoesairquotesasshesaysthatword—“aregoodenough
people.Butthey’renot.Noonebuysachild.Socanwepleaseputallthisbickeringbullshitasideand
getonthesamepageforonce?”

“Whatdoyouwantustodo?”Iask,completelyfrustratedwithallthedetailsI’vebeeninthedark

about.“Whatcanwedo?”

“Ihaveaplan,”Victoriasays.“Andit’sareallygreatonethatwillgetridofLiamHenryandLucio

GoriSeniorforgood.”

“Youwantusto…killthem?”Ivyasks.She’sstunned.
“Notus,Ivy.”AndthenVictoriasmilesasmilethatremindsmeofPaxtonwhenhe’sgotsomeone

inhissights.“That’sthebestpart,Itoldyou.Wedon’thavetokillanyone.Wejustneedthemtokill
eachother.”

“We—”Elliestarts.ButNolancomesburstingthroughthedoublekitchendoorsandshestops

short.

Weallgosilent.
“What?”heasks.“What’sgoingoninhere?Ithoughtyoubusyweremakingdinner?”
“Don’tbesilly,Nolan,”Ivysays,recoveringfirst.“WehaveElizabethforthat.Andsheprefersthe

regularkitchenwhenshecooks,remember?Imean,whyemployafirst-ratechefifyoucan’tshow
herofftoyourbestfriends?”

“Oh,yeah,”Nolansays,lookingusalloverashetriestoappearcalm.“Right.Sorry,Ijustfigured

youwerebusymakingdinnerwhenyoualldisappearedtothecateringkitchen.”

“Whatareyoudoinginhere?”Ivyasks.“Aren’tyousupposedtobemediatingtheMister

meeting?”

“Ahhh,ice.”NolansmilessheepishlyatIvy.“Ineedice.Twobags,please.”
“Why?”Ellieasks.
“Youknow.”Nolansighs,thenshrugs.“Just…guystuff.”
“Theybeattheshitoutofeachother,”Isay.“Didn’tthey?”
“Nope,”Nolansays,puttingahandup.“Nope.Justafewswingsandsomeshouting,that’sall.It’s

coolnow.”Buthisgazelingersonmeforamomentandhefrowns.

Isquintmyeyesathim,andheredirectshisattentiontoIvy,whoisbusyscoopingcrushedice

fromtheicemakerintobaggies.ShehandsthemoverandNolanisjustabouttoleavewhenachef
appearsthroughanothersetofdoorsandsays,“Dinner ’salmostready.Ineedeveryoneoutsomy
serverscanprep.SopleasegograbaseatintheSapphirediningroomandtheserverswillbein
shortly.”

Shedisappears,butthedoorsNolancamethroughswingopenonceagain.Paxappears,that

ridiculousdetectivecoatswingingoutbehindhimashestridesintothekitchen.

“Pax,”Isay,walkingtowardshim.“Whathappened?”
“Nothing,”hesays,puttinghisarmaroundmywaistandpullingmeclose.“Nothing.We’reall

goodnow.”

IvyhandshimanicepackforhisswollenfaceandthensheandNolandisappear,presumablyto

delivertheothericepacktoOliver.

“Doyouladiesmind,”Paxsays,lookingatEllie,Victoria,andAriel,“just…givingusaminute?”
“Sure,sure,”thethreeofthemsay,exitingthewayIvyandNolanleft.
Whenthey’regoneItaketheicepackfromPaxandplaceitonhisjaw.“Youfought.”
“Justalittlebit,Sugar.It’sfine,Iswear.We’reOKnow.Hejust…”Paxsucksinabreath.“Hejust

neededtosaywhathecametosayandIsaidwhatIhadtosay.And…we’regoodnow.We’rejust
gonnastayhereattheresortforafewdaystotrytofigureallthisshitout,andthenwe’llgobackto
Malibuandlivehappilyeverafter.”

Istareupintohiseyes.“You’relying.”
“I’mnot,”heinsists.“Iswear.It’sgonnabefine.Oliver ’snotmad,he’sjustworriedaboutyou.”
“Aboutme?Why?”ButIdon’tevenhearPax’sanswerbecausemymindisbacktothesilver

envelopehidingunderneaththekitchentable.

“Ithinkyoubetterputthesebackon.”Paxpullsmypantiesoutofhistrenchcoatpocketandhands

themtome.“Imean,Isortadigthethoughtofyousittingnexttomeatdinnerwithnopantieson,but
I’mprettysureOliverwouldkickmyassforrealifheeverfoundout.”Hekissesmeonthelips,his
tongueseekingmineout.Welingerlikethatforamoment.Butthenhepullsbackandsays,“Sobetter
toheadthatlittlecomplicationoffatthepass.”

Wemeeteveryoneelseupinthediningroom.Thereisalargeblackboarddecoratedwithcolored

chalkonthefarendoftheroomwithasevencoursemealelaboratelywritteninperfectcalligraphy.
I’mstarving,andeveryoneelseisalreadysitting,soPaxandItakethetwoemptychairsatthetable.

IstareatOliveracrossfromme,whoissittingnexttoAriel,unabletolookupandmeetmyeyes.

IvyandNolanaretomyleftandPaxisonmyright.VictoriaisontheothersideofOliverandWestis
toherright.EllieisnexttoAriel,MacisacrossfromherandFiveisattheheadofthetablelikea
boss.VictorialooksatmeasIplacemynapkininmylap,andgivesmeaslightnodofherhead.Like
weareco-conspiratorsorsomething.

Idon’tknowwhatherplanis,butit’sallwrong.It’sallwrong.MaybeLiamHenryandthisGori

guyarebothinvolvedsomehow.AndI’mnotsurewhattomakeofthatcommentaboutWeston’s
parents.Sowhoknowsaboutthem.Butnothingshe’ssaid—nothinganyoftheotherMisseshavesaid
—leadsbacktoMarielHawthorneandhershinysilverenvelopes.

“Hey,”IsaytoPax.“Where’syourmother?”
“Mymotherwashere?”heasksback.“When?Ididn’tseeher.”
“Ididn’tseeher,”Olivergrowls.“Youneedyourmommy,Paxton?”
“Fuckyou,asshole.”
OlivernarrowshiseyesatPax,hislipstillbleedingalittlefromtheirfight.
“Sheleft,”Ivysays.“Shesaidshe’llbebacktomorrow,Ithink?Ortonight?Nolan?Whichdidshe

say?Youwerethere.”

“Idon’tknow,”Nolansays.“LikeIpayattentiontoPaxton’smother.”
“Well,thisisalovelyreunion,”Elliesays,herchirpyvoiceandeasysmiletryingtodiffusethe

situation.“I’msohappytomeetyou,Cindy.AndArielisalreadyoneofmymostfavoritepeople
ever,”shesays,noddingtomysister.“Thethreeofusreallyneedtostaycloseafterthis,sincewe’re
allinColorado,youknow.”

Imanageasmileinreturn,butIcanbarelypayattentiontotheconversationwhilewewaitforthe

firstcoursetobeserved.Imostlyzoneout,wonderinghowIcangetbackintothatkitchentorecover
theenvelope.

Ithastoberelated.Ithastobe.
“Hey,”Oliversays,kickingmyfeetunderthetable.“It’sreallygoodtoseeyouagain,Cin.”
“Yeah.”Ismileatmybigbrother.“Yeah,it’sgoodtoseeyoutoo.Ishould’vecomehomemore

often.”

Olivershrugs,thenlooksoveratAriel,thenPax,beforecomingbacktome.“Doyourthing,sis.

Weknowyouloveus.Butyoureallyshouldcomehomefortheholidaysthisyear.AndIguess…”He
looksatPaxagain.“Iguessyoucanbringthisassholetoo,ifyouwant.”

“Invitationaccepted,”Paxmumbles.“ButifyouswingatmeagainIwon’tgoeasyonyounext

time.”

“Shit,”Oliversays,andnotinajokingway.“Youwishyoucouldtakeme.Andmydadisstill

gonnakickyourfuckingass.”

“OK,”Fivesays.“Ithinkthiswouldbeagoodtimetobringitalloutintheopen.Saywhatwe’ve

gottosay.Implicatewhowethinkisinvolved.Andtrytocomeupwithanswers.”

It’sweirdbeingaroundFivelikethis.I’veknownhimmywholelife.He’slikeabrother,buta

mucholderone.HewasalreadyfifteenwhenIwasborn,soweneverhungoutsociallyatall.Allmy
sistersbutArielweresomucholder,Ibarelyknowthem.OnlyOliverandArielwerecloseenoughin
agetobeamajorpartofmychildhood.

“Whoaretheplayers?”Fiveasks.“We’llstartwithWestandgoaroundthetable.”
“Liam,ofcourse,”Westsays.
“AndLucioSenior,”Victoriaadds.
“Yeah,”Paxsaysnexttome.“Liamisdefinitelyinvolved.Idon’tknowaboutGorithough.He’s

so…”Paxstopslikehe’ssearchingforaword.“Lowerclass,youknow?Imean,he’stheonly
outrightcriminalonthelist,right?”

“Why,”Toriblurtsout,“doyouguyshavesuchahardtimebelievingme?”
“Wegetit,Tori,”Nolansays.“He’sabadguy.Butisheourproblem?”
“Mymotherpledgedmetohisson,Nolan.Herapedmerepeatedlyasakiduntilmyfathergotme

outandgavemeanewlife.AndthenightbeforeTheNight,hesuddenlyreappears?No.Thisisnota
coincidence.”

“Well,”Macsays,“maybeifWestactuallycamecleanabouthispast,we’dbegettingsomewhere.”
“Ididcomeclean,asshole,”Westsays.
“You’rehidingthings,”Fivesays.“Weallknowit.Buthey,ifyouwanttogetallofuskilled

becauseyoucan’tcometotermswithyoursecrets,thenyougoaheadanddothat.”

“IagreewithFive,”Victoriasays.“Weston’sparentsaredefinitelyinvolved.”
“Theyarenot—”
“Theyare,”Toriinsists.“Youdon’tbuychildren,Weston!”
“Itwasn’tlikethat.”
“Thenwhatwasitlike?”Oliverasks.“Nowisaverygoodtimetotellustherestofthestory.”
“Nooneknowsyourstory,”Westretorts.Andthenhenodstowardsus.“NooneknowsPaxton’s

storyeither.Whydon’twestartwithyoutwo?BecausewealreadyknowhowMacandNolanfitit.”

IwaitforPaxtotellthemabouthissilverenvelope,buthedoesn’t.HeandOliverlookacrossthe

tableateachotherstoically.Pokerfaces,bothofthem.

“WhataboutthatbitchClaudette?”Ivypipesin,breakingthesilence.
“Yeah,”Nolansays.“Itbothersmethatshe’sstillatlarge.”
“AndshegotBoringRichardinvolved.Ibetitwasher.”Ivylooksaroundwithaconvincinglook

onherface.

“Well.”Elliesighs.“Ihadallthatfunwithmyco-worker,Ellen,don’tforget.”
“AndAllen,”Macadds.“Itjustmakesnosense.Whoisrunningthisoperation?Andwhy?Why

werewefalselyaccusedofrapingthatgirl?Whyus?”

Wealllookateachother,unabletoanswer,whenthechefandherserversappearwithplatesof

crabsaladcanapés.Weareallsuddenlyquietastheyserveus,andthentheydisappearintothekitchen.

“Istillthinkit’sWeston’sproblem,”Oliversays,lookingdownathisplacesetting,scowlingatthe

tinyfinger-foodsandwich,andthenshovesitinhismouthinonebiteandchewsashetalks.“He’sstill
keepingsecrets.”

“Youwannaknowmysecrets?”Westsays.“YouthinkI’mtheproblem?Well,hereyougo.I

might’vekilledStewartManchester.”

“Wealreadyknewthatpart—”Oliverinterrupts.
“Buttheydon’t,”Westoncounters.
“WhothehellisStewartManchester?”Ellieasks.I’mglad,becauseIfeellikeI’vebeendropped

intoanepisodeofTheTwilightZone.

“AguywhofiguredoutwhoIwasbackinprepschool.HeknewtheConradsweren’tmyreal

parentsandheblackmailedmeforsomethingIfoundalongtimeago.Butwhenwemetinour
separateyachtsoutininternationalwaterstohashitallout,hefelloverthesideandnevercameback
up.Iassumedhewasdead.Ileftandneversawhimagain.Thatwasjustbeforewewereaccusedtoo.
Soit’slike,mylifewasallfuckedup,thenitwasn’tbecausemyproblemdied,andthenitwasagain,
becauseoftherapecharge.”

“AndVictoria,”Paxadds.“Shedefinitelycontributedsomethingtothatnighttoo.”
“ThisiswhatI’vebeentellingyouassholesallalong!”Torisays.“Weareallconnected!Weneed

totakeoutLiamandLucioGoriSenior.They’retheonesbehindallthis.”SheglancesatWest,sitting
nexttoher.“Andyourparents.”

“Goddamnit,Tori—”
“West,”Paxsays.“Youneedtocomecleanaboutwhateveritisyouleftoutthelasttimewespoke.”
“It’snotevenrelevant,”Westsays.“IblackmailedLiamafewyearslater,OK?”
“Blackmailedhim,how?”Macasks.
“Hewaspressuringmyfatheraboutmoney,OK?ThemoneyInevergaveuptohim,right?SoI

tookhimasideonenightataparty,backwhenmybusinesswasstillstruggling,andtoldhimIcould
usesomehelp.Helaughed,ofcourse.ButIhadanaceinthehole.Onemoregoldcoinfrommylittle
childhoodtreasurehuntingdays.AndItoldhimIplantedmoretreasureonpropertyheowns
somewhereandhe’dneverfindit.Andifhedidn’tleavemyparentsalone—andhelpmebygiving
meallhisheadhuntingcontracts—I’dcalltheFBIandtellthemwhereallthattreasurewas.He’dbe
arrestedforviolatingtheArcheologicalResourcesProtectionActof1979.Whichstatesprettymuch
everythingyoufindtreasurehuntingbelongstothegovernment.So…”Westlooksatallofusaround
thetable.“Yeah.Iblackmailedhim.Andhemadegoodonthatpromisebygivingmeallthose
contractsuntil—”

“UntilIshowedupasyourcompetition,”Victoriasays.“Andthenyouknewsomethingwas

wrong.”

“Exactly,”Westsays,reachingunderthetabletotakeVictoria’shand.“Iknewhewasontome,or

hadmeinsomeway.”

“Orwasjusttryingtokillyouoff,”Paxfinishes.
“Right.”Westsighs.“Iwasindenialatfirst.Itwassomemisunderstanding,ormaybehewasjust

obsessedwithTori’slooksandwastryingtopissmeoff?Orwhatever.Ididn’twanttobelieveallthat
shitfromthepastwasfinallycatchingupwithme.Soyousee,Idon’treallythinkhe’sourguy,Tori.I
fuckedwithhim,hefuckedwithmeback.It’sthatsimple.”

“Buthecametoourhousetoo,”Paxsays.Andnowhe’stheonereachingformyhandunderthe

table.HesqueezesitandIsqueezeback.Hesaid“ourhouse,”which,giventhecircumstances,
shouldn’tmakemeallflutteryinside,butitdoes.“Sowhydidheinvolveme?”

“AndCindy,”Oliveradds.
“Cindymightnotbeinvolved.There’snoevidencethatshe’sinvolved,”Fivesays.
Exceptthatsilverenvelopethatcameaddressedtomeatthedatingsiteofficetoday.Ilookoverat

Arielandfindheralreadystaringatme.Shecocksherhead,likeshemightbeputtingallthesepieces
together,butshesaysnothingasIquicklylookaway.

IfPaxhappenstomentionhis“evidence”fromwhentheywereallaccusedofrape,she’llfigureit

out.

Butit’snotPaxwhodirectstheconversationtotheexactplaceIdon’twantittogo.It’sIvy.“What

aboutthatsilverenvelope?”

“Whatsilverenvelope?”Oliverasks.
Shit.Shit.Shit.

“TheoneatthehouseonMartha’sVineyard?Youknow?”ShelooksatNolan.“Remember?Pax

pickeditupwhenhegotalltheotherevidenceofour…”Sheblushes.“Ourfantasynightoutofthe
waybeforethecopssawit.Whatwasinthatenvelope?”

IchanceaglanceatArielandshe’sgothermouthopen,readytosaysomething.
ButElliebeatshertoit.“Silverenvelopes?”Everyheadturnstolookather.Shelooksacrossthe

tableatMac.“Didn’tyouusesilverenvelopesforourscavengerhuntonourfirstdate?”

“Yeah,”Macsays.“Paxalreadyaskedmeaboutit,butyouknowwhat?Idon’treallyknowwhyI

usedsilverenvelopes.MaybebecauseitremindedmeofTheNight?”

“Well,”Nolansays,“Iguessthenextquestionis…whythehellisPaxtonaskingaboutsilver

envelopes?Heaskedmetoo.WhenIvywasinvitedtoapplyforthejobhereattheresort,shesaidit
cameinasilverenvelope.”

“Yes,”Ivysays.“Itdid!”
Ilookatmysisteragainandnowshe’sscowling.Ishakemyhead.
Sheshakeshersback.
Later,Imouthsilently.Marielgavemespecificinstructionswhenwehadourdiscussion.Andit

didnotinvolvetellingeveryoneaboutwhatsheknows.

“Well,”Paxsays.AndIjustknowhe’sgoingtotellthemaboutourdayattheraceswithhismother.

Buthedoesn’t.Hemight,infact,sortoftellalie.“It’sjustodd,don’tyouthink?”

Hesqueezesmyhand,likehe’stryingtokeepthisasecretaswell.
Isqueezeback,relievedtogettotheendofthesilverenvelopediscussion.
“Cindy,”Arielsays,standingupsofastherchairscrapesonthefloor.Sheplaceshernapkinnext

toheruntouchedcanapéandsays,“Ihavetogotothelittlegirl’sroom.Canyoucomewithme?”

“Um,thefoodiscomingsoon,”Isayweakly.
“Fuckthefood,Cinderella.Getyourassupandjoinme.”
Oliverlaughs.“Fuckingsisters.Theyareincapableofpeeingalone.”
“Mac,”FivesaysasArielgrabsholdofmyarmandpracticallydragsmeacrossthediningroom.

“Youneverdidexplainwhyyouwereusingsilverenvelopesforthatscavengerhunt.”

“Well,”Macsays…ButthenIcan’thearanythingelsebecauseArielhasmeoutinthehallway.
“Whatthefuck,Cindy!”shewhisper-shouts.“IknewyouhadafunnylookonyourfacewhenIwas

holdingupthatsilverenvelope.”

“Ariel,look—”
“No,youlook!Youhaveacrucialpieceofevidenceandyou’rewithholdingit.”
“Itwasjunkmail,”Isay.
“No,itwasn’t.”
“IopeneditwhenyouwerearguingwithVictoria,OK?Itwasacreditcardofferinapretty

envelope,that’sall.Ithrewitaway.”

“Thenwe’regonnagogetitoutofthetrash.BecauseIdon’tbelieveawordyou’resaying.”
“Finewithme.”
IletArieldragmethroughthehallwaysbacktothecateringkitchen,whichisnowbustlingwith

cooksandserverswhoaregettingourdinnerready.

“CanIhelpyou?”Elizabeth,thechef,asks,whenshespotsusatthedoorway.
“Yes,Elizabeth.Sorrytointerruptyouguysinhere.Butmysisterleftsomethinginthetrashthat

weneedtorecover.Doyoumindifwelook?”

“Oh,sorry.Weemptiedthetrash.”
“Wheredidyoutakeit?”Arielasks,hervoicestiffandcold.“Wereallyneeditback.”
“It’sbeencompacted.”Elizabethshrugs.“Sorry.Wehaveverystricttrashregulationsontheresort.

Everythingiscompactedtosavelandfillspace.”

“See,”Isay,pullingmyarmsoArielhastoletgoofme.“It’snothing.I’mnotlying.”
“Issomethingwrong?”thechefasks.
“No,”Isay.“We’rejustalittleedgytonight,Elizabeth.That’sall.Isn’tthatright,Ariel?”
Arihuffsairbutturnsonherheelandwalksbackoutthedoor.
“Sorrytobotheryou,”IcallbackovermyshoulderasIfollowher.Sheiswaitingattheendofa

hallway,seethingwithanger.

“You’relying.”
“I’mnot!Iswear!WhywouldIlieaboutastupidpieceofmail?”
Shelooksmeupanddown,thenturnsonceagainandstartswalkingbacktothediningroom.
“Whatifwe’relookingatitallwrong?”FiveissayingwhenAriandIreturn.
“Whatdoyoumean?”Nolanasks.
“Look,”Oliversays,gettingup,dippinghisnapkininhiswaterglasstogetitwet,andthen

walkingovertothemenuchalkboard.Hewipesitclean,picksupapinkpieceofchalkfromthetray,
andbeginstowritedownnames.“Claudette,Allen,Stewart,Ellen,theConrads,LucioGoriJunior,
LucioGoriSenior,LiamHenry,andBoringRichard.”

“Wait,”Ivysays,asadlookonherface.“Doyouthinkmyfatherwasinvolved?”Sheturnstolook

atNolan.“Rememberthosegirlsyoutoldmeabout?Thebloggerwhotriedtosetyouup?Andthe
onewholiedaboutbeingpregnant?”

“Yeah,”Nolansays,scratchinghischin.“Howthefuckdoallthesepeopleconnect?”
“And,moreimportantly,who’sincharge?”Victoriaasks.“Becauseitlooksprettycleartomethat

it’sallaboutLiamandGori.Theyarethebosses,everyoneelseisjustaplayer.”

“Maybe,”Fivesays,gettinguptojoinOliver.“Ifyoulookatitlikeaflowchart—”Hedraws

squaresandcirclesaroundeachname,thenstartsconnectingthemwithlines.“Thenitbarelymakes
sense.”

“Jesusfuck,”Macsays.“Thatiscomplicated.”
“Right,”Fivesays.“But—”Heerasesallthenamesandlinesandthendrawsabigcircleinthe

middle,attachingeachnametoitontheoutsidewithoneshortlinesoitlookslikeanelongatedsuna
childmightdrawinpre-school.“Ifyoulookatitthisway,it’sreallyrathersimple.”

“It’snotawhoinsidethatcircle,”Isaybeforethinking.
“Butawhat,”Arielfinishesforme.“Somekindoforganization,orcompany,or…”Shetrailsoff.

Idon’tlookather.Butit’strue.Everyoneknowsit.Thereisacacophonyofoh,andyes,andofcourse
comingfromeveryoneatthetable.

“Weonlyhaveonemorequestion,”Oliversays.“What’sthenameoftheentityinsidethecircle?

Whenwefigurethatoutwe’llknow,”hesays.“We’llknoweverything.Whytheysetusup,whowas
responsible,andwhatweneedtodoaboutit.”

Paxreachesformyhandagain.Wesqueezetogetherthistime.
Becausewealreadyknowwhatgoesinsidethatcircle.
TheSilverSociety.
Andthiscanonlymeanonething.Thereisonemoremissingnameonthatlistofpeople.
Andit’shismother.

ChapterThirty-Paxton

Theconversationlagsthroughdinnerafterthat.Presumablythegroupisbusymullingoverwho

thismysteriousentityinthecentercirclemightbe.

Butthenameisrepeatingitselfover,andover,andoverinmyhead.
TheSilverSociety.
IhavesomanyquestionsforCindy.Theyarespillingoutofmymindandfillingupmyheaduntil

Ifeellikejustgrabbingherarmandpullingheroutofthediningroom.

ButIcan’tdothat.
No.Ican’tdothat.
BecauseeveryonewillknowIknowsomethingandthentheywillstartaskingquestions.And

Cindymightletsomethingslipaboutthesilverenvelopemymothershowedusattheraces.Andone
oftheguys—Corporate,probably,becausewe’veneverexactlybeenfriendsandhe’sprobablystill
pissedoffatmeaboutthatwholeislandmercenarycontractIhadonhislifeafewweeksago—will
puttwoandtwotogetherandcomeupwithMarielHawthorne.AndthenImightreallyhavetokill
him.

And,and,and.Itgoeson,andon,andonlikethatfromthere.
“How’sthefood?”thechef,somefresh-facedthirty-somethingwoman,says,beamingasmileat

allofusassheclapsherhandstogetherinanticipation.

“Oh,it’slovely,”Ivysays.Ican’tseeher,she’sontheothersideofCindy,andIdon’ttry,anyway.I

justlookbackdownatmyplateasNolantriestoconvincethewomaneverythingisperfecteven
thoughthereisnothingaboutusthatsaysanythingisperfect.

Icutapieceofsteakandshoveitinmymouth.
Cindyturnsherheadtolookatme,justasEllie,Mac,andFivebegintalkingonmyendofthe

table.Sheleansinandkissesmeonthecheek,butinsteadofturningaway,shelingersclosetomyear
andwhispers,“Ihavetotellyousomething.”

Ipullawayandlookherintheeyes.
Alone,shemouthstome.
Afterdinner,Imouthback.
Cindytakesadeepbreathandnodsherhead,thengoesbacktopickingathersteak.Wehaveone

courseleft.OnemorecourseandthenIcangetoutofthisfuckingroom,getawayfromallthese
fuckingpeople,andjustclearmyheadandthink.

Think.
Ireallyneedtothink.
CindyandIareconspicuouslysilentafterthat,andOliverdoesnotmissthis.He’smostlyscowling

throughtherestofthemaincourseandwhenourplatesarefinallytakenaway,hesays,“So…”
lookingstraightatme.Onlyafewpeoplenotice.Cindy,ofcourse.AndwhenIlooktomyrightat
Five,hescowlsandsteepleshisfingersunderhischinlikesomekindofepicvillaininasuperhero
movie.

“So,”Isayback.MacandEllieareengagedinaconversationabouttheirdog,whowasherded

awaywithCorporate’snewinsta-kidthemomenttheygothere.ButArielisdirectlyacrossfromme,
andshe’spayingverycloseattention.

“Doyouloveher?”Oliverasks.“Becauseifyoudon’t,youneedtoback.Thefuck.Away.”
“Oliver,”Cindysays.“We’reinanewrelationship.Welikeeachotherenoughtotakeitfurther.It’s

noneofyourbusiness.”

“Yes,”Isaywhenshestopstalking,nevertakingmyeyesoffOliver.“Yes,Iloveher.”WhenIlook

overatCindy,she’ssmiling.Maybeevenblushing.“Ido,”Isay.“Youjusttookovermylifeandnow
thatyou’rehere,Ican’timagineIwouldeverbehappyifyouleft.”

“Awww,”Arielsays.“See,Oli,you’vegotnothingtoworryabout.Ourlittlebabysisterhaswon

theheartofbig,badMr.Mysterious.”

“Whataboutyourjob?”hesaystothat.Andhesneersthewordjob.“Youcan’tpossibly—”
“I’mout,”Isay.“I’mpartneringupwithCindyinherdetectivebusiness.”
“Iguessthat’swhyyoushoweduphereinatrenchcoatandthenlockedyourselfinNolan’s

office?”

IvyactuallylaughsontheothersideofCindy.Everyoneislisteningnow.
“Yeah,thatwaskindofadickmove,Mysterious,”Nolansays.
“Oh,stopaboutyourstupiddesk,Nolan,”Ivychastiseshim.“It’snobigdeal.Threemonthsago

weweresneakingawaytoo.Sostopbeingjudge-y.”

“It’smyoffice,”Nolansays.“AndIneverfuckedyouinthere.”
“JesusChrist,”Isay.“I’mdonehere.”I’mabouttogetupwhenthechefandserversappearwith

dessert,andCindyplacesacalminghandonmyarmtokeepmeseated.

“Tenminutes,”shesays,leaningovertowhisperinmyear.“Tenminutesandwecangobackto

ourcabanaandbealone.”

“Iheardthat,”Oliversays,asheisservedaplatewithasinglechocolate-coveredstrawberrywith

somekindoffillingspillingoutthetop.

MyplateisputinfrontofmeandIlookdownatit,justasthechefsays,“Pleaseenjoythe

cheesecake-filledchocolate-coveredstrawberries.Whowouldlikecoffee?”

Fuckthat.IpopthewholestrawberryinmymouthandstandupbeforeIgetropedintotwenty

moreminutesofconversation.“Itwasgreat,Elizabeth,”Isaytothechef,tossingmynapkindown,
andchewingthroughthewordsbeforeIswallowandcontinue.“SorryIwasn’tdressedforthe
occasion,butIwastravelingalldayandnowI’mprettytired.SoCindyandI”—sheiswrappingher
strawberryintoahastilyconstructedtakeawaycontainermadeoutofhernapkin—“aregoingtobed.
Seeyouontheotherside,myfriends.”

Igrabherhandandweflee.Ipracticallydragherthroughthebusy-as-fuckresort—howthehell

didNolangetsomanypeoplebookedinsoshortatime,anyway?—aswemakeourwayoutofthe
mainbuilding,pastthepool,andthenofftotheleftwheretheprivatebungalowsare.

“Whatroomarewein?”Iask,aswewalkalongtheelaboratelylandscapedpaththatleadstothe

privatepoolandlittlehuts.

“Eight,”shesays.“Thelastone.ButPax—”
“Shhh,”Isay.“Justwaituntilwe’realone,OK?”Corporate’skidandPerfect’sdog,alongwitha

nanny,areswimmingandsplashingintheprivatepoolaswepassit.Cindywavesandsmilesatthe
greetingwereceivefromthekid,andthenshe’sgotherkeycardoutandshe’sflashingitatthedoor.

Iopenitupandweescapeinside,closingthedoorbehindus.
Ismileatthesightofherbohemianbackpack,missinghercompletelyinthatmomentof

recognition,eventhoughsheisrightnexttomeandstillhasholdofmyhand.

“Pax—”
“Cindy,look.I’mfuckingsorryfordraggingyouintothis.Oliverisright,dammit.It’sreallynot

safeforyou.”

“Pax—”

“ButIdoloveyou.Ihaveneverfeltsosureofsomethinginallmylife.”
“Pax,listen—”
“Weneedtobecareful,OK?Weneedtobeverycareful.Ithinkit’sbestifyougohometothe

farm.Yourcrazydadisthere,andyourmom,whoprobablyshootsbetterthanIdo.Sotheycan—”

“Pax!”sheyells.“Stoptalkingandjustlistentome!”
“It’smymother,Cindy!”Ishoutitandshestartles.“Sorry,”Isay,pullingherclosetomeand

wrappingmyarmsaroundherinahug.“Sorry.”

“No,listentome.Iknowyourmotherhassomethingtodowiththis,obviously.TheSilverSociety

—”

“Right.I’msofuckingsorryfordragging—”
“Youdidn’tdragmeintoit.Justlisten!Asilverenvelopewasdeliveredtothedatingsiteoffice

today,Pax.”

“What?”Igrabmyhairwithbothhands.
“Anditwasaddressedtome.”
“Fuck!”Isay.“Whatthehellwasinside?”
“Idon’tknow,”Cindysaysintomychest.“Icouldn’topenitinfrontoftheothergirls.Victoria

calleditjunkmailandsnatcheditaway.AndthenitflewontothefloorandIkickeditunderthetable
inthekitchenbeforeArielthoughttoomuchaboutit.Butshe’s—”

“Ontous,“Ifinish.“That’swhyshewantedyoutogotothebathroomwithher,wasn’tit?”
“Yes,”Cindysays,pullingawayfrommesoshecanlookupatmyface.“ButIlied.Isaiditreally

wasjunkmailandtoldherIthrewitaway.Itwasjustgoodluckthatthekitchenstaffcompactedthe
trashandgotridofit,soIthinksheboughtit.”

“Oh,no,”Isay.“Idon’tthinksheboughtanything,Cindy.She’sgoingtotellOliverandeverything

isgoingtopointtomymother.”

“It’snotyourmother,Pax.Iknowit.Ifeelit.Sheknows…things.Shetoldme,Pax.Shetoldme

aboutTheSilverSocietyandIwassupposedtowarnallthegirlsaboutit,but—”

“Thegirls?”Iask.
“ButIwantedtotalktoyoufirstandIdidn’tknowwhattosay.Idon’tthinkyourmotheristheone

behindallthisbullshit.Ortherapecharge,forfuck’ssake.Just…no.”

“Whyissheinterestedinthegirls?”Iask.“Whatthefuck?”
Cindyplacesherhandsonmycheeks,staresintomyeyes,andsays,“Itwasneveraboutyouguys,

PaxtonVance.ItneverhadanythingtodowiththeMisters.Theonlypeoplewhomatterinallthis
twistedshitaretheMisses.”

ChapterThirty-One-Cindy

“Everythingthat’shappenedovertheyearsisaboutthegirls,Pax.”Buthe’sjuststaringatmewith

afunnylookonhisface.“Doyouhearme?”

Hetakesadeepbreathandthenleadsmeovertothesmallcouchandsitsdown,pullingmeintohis

lap.“Whatgirls?”heasks.“What’sgoingon?”

Isigh,sofuckingsorryIhavetobetheonewhofinallyhastheanswershe’sbeenlookingfor

thesepasttenyears.“YourmotherwenttoDartmouth.She’sfromaveryimportant,veryoldmoney,
veryprestigiousandpublicfamily.”

“Yes,”hesays,staringstraightintomyeyes.
“Shewasn’tthefirsttobeinvitedin.”
“In?”
PoorPax.Ileandownandkisshimonthelips.“Don’tworry.It’sgoingtobeOK.Weareallsmart

andstrong.Wewillfindawayout.”

“Outofwhat?Cindy,”hesays,raisinghisvoice.“Whatthefuckisgoingon?”
“OutoftheSilverSociety.Youwereinvited,sortof.Menreallydon’tgetinvited,Pax.Thewomen

do.It’sanall-femalesociety.Secrettoeveryone,exceptthefivenewwomentappedformembership
fromeachIvyLeagueschoolatthebeginningofsenioryear.IneverwenttoanIvyLeagueschool,as
youknow.IwenttoIrvine.”Istopandtrytomakemyselfbrave.“ButmysisterRorydid.Alongtime
ago,Pax.She’salmostfifteenyearsolderthanme.Andyourmothertoldmeshegotaninvitation.”

“Yoursister?”hesays.“Theprincess?”
Inod,swallowingdownmyfear.“Butshedidn’tunderstandwhatitwas.And…well,shegotoutof

it.”

“Gotoutofit?”heasks,hisvoicesoftnow.“Whatdoyoumean?Whatdoesthatmean,Cindy?”
“She’sbeenmissingeversincecollege.Shedisappeared,Pax.Ihaven’tseenher,ortalkedtoher

—”

“She’sdead?”
“Idon’tthinkso.Idon’tknow,”Isay,strugglingnottocry.“Idon’tthinkshe’sdead.Wenever

foundabodyoranoteforransom,oranythinglikethat.Iwaswaytooyoungtounderstandwhat
happened,right?Iwassixyearsold.Ibarelyknewher.Ibarelyrememberher,Pax.Butsheisagiant
gapingholeinmylife.I’vewatchedmyparentsgrieveovertheyearsontheanniversaryofthe
disappearanceandit’sbeenkillingme.I’vewatchedFivebecomesodistantandwithdrawn,he’s
barelyamemberofthefamilyanymore.Helovedher.”Ichokebackasob.“Helovedhersomuch.
Andshelovedhimback,somuch.Theyweredestiny.”Isniffthesobawayandsitupstraight,forcing
myselftoholdittogether.“That’spartofthereasonwhyIbecameadetective,doyouunderstand?
I’vebeenlookingforherallthistime.”

“Butyourparents,”Paxsays.“Yourparentstalkaboutherlikeshe’salive.Iswear,Iknowtheydo.

Ihavenevergottentheimpressionthatshewas…gone.”

“It’ssad,”Isay.“Theyhavenevergivenuphope.”
“Fuck,”hesays,rubbinghisforeheadwithhishand.“Fuckinghell.”Andthenhelooksmeinthe

eyesagain.“Andmymotherisresponsibleforthat?”

“Wedon’tknowthat,Pax.Wecan’tjumptoconclusions.Weneedtogetthatenvelopeoutofthe

kitchen.Weneedtoseewhatitsays.”

“It’sfilledwithfuckingcooksandserversrightnow,”hesays.
“Iknow,”Isay,myeyesfillingwithtears.“Iknow.Sowejusthavetowaituntiltonightwhen

everyonegoestosleep.Andthenwegoback,gettheenvelope,andtrytoputtheselastfewpieces
together.”

“Ineedtocallher,”hesays,pullingouthisphone.Hepressesacontacticon,thenholdsthephone

uptohisear.EvenIcanhearthecallringthroughtovoicemail.Hetabstheendbuttonandlooksat
me.“Whendidyoulastseeher?”

“Thisafternoon.Shewashere,Ithoughtshewasstaying.Shetoldmeweneededtocomehereand

shesaidshe’dexplaintonight.”

“Itistonight.”
“Iknow.Maybeshejustgotcaughtupinsomething?She’llbeback,Pax.Ifnotlatertonight,then

tomorrowforsure.Shecanexplaineverything.Andwecanshowhermyinvitation—”

“Whatifshesentthefuckinginvitation?”
Ishakemyhead.“Just…don’tstoptrustinghernow,OK?Wedon’tevenknowifitisan

invitation.”

Helooksatthewindowwherethesoundsofpeopleintheprivatepoolcanbeheard.“Whattimedo

youthinktheycloseupthekitchen?”

Ishrug.“Idunno.Eleven,maybe?Outbymidnight?”
“Sowehavelikefivehours.”
“Yeah.”Isnuggleintohischest,inhalinghisscentasItrynottofreakoutabouteverythingthat’s

happenedinthepastseveralweeks.“Wecouldgetalltheanswersinjustafewmorehours.Imight
evengetanswersaboutRory.”

“Buttheymightnotbetheanswerswewant,MissCookie.”
“No,Detective.ButIguessthat’sthechanceyoutakewhenyougosearchingforthetruth.It’s

bettertoknowthannotknow,right?”

He’ssilentforseveralseconds,hisfingertipsrubbingsmall,gentlecirclesonthebareskinofmy

upperarm.Ileanintohimevenmoreandhetightenshisarmsaroundme,kissingmyneckand
inhalingme,justthewayIdidhim.“Anhonestenemyisalwaysbetterthanafriendwholies.Doyou
knowwhotoldmethat?”

“Who?”
“Yourbrother.Thenightweallhadtodisappearandnotseeeachotheragain.Iwasn’tcrazyabout

Fivetakingover.Iwaspissed,actually.Isaidabunchofshit,pointingoutwhyweshouldn’ttrusthim,
especiallysincehewasn’tevenalawyerandhewasmakingusalllookveryfuckingguiltywhenwe
knew—Iknew—Ididnothingwrongthatnight.Ididn’trapethatgirl.Itwasafuckinggame,OK?I
didn’tevenasktoplay.IjustgotthatsilverfuckingenvelopeandIwastwenty-oneyearsold.What
guyisn’tupforagamelikethatattwenty-one?”hepausesandthensays,“Don’tanswerthat.I’msure
Oliverwould’vesaidno.Fivewould’vedefinitelysaidno.Perfectwould’vesaidno.Corporatewould
neverbeinterestedingames,hiswholelifewasagoddamnedgame.Hell,IbetRomanticwould’ve
eventurnedthatshitdown.”

“Ibelieveyou.”
“‘Fivewillneverlietous,’Olisaid.‘Andisn’titbettertohaveanhonestenemythanafriendwho

lies?’WhatcouldIsay?I’dratherdealinfactsanyday.Thelies—”Heleansdowntokissmyhead.
“I’vehadmyfairshareofliesfrommyfuckingfather.Soyeah,thefriendwholiesisfarworsethan
theenemywhotellsthetruth.”

“Fivewon’tlietous,”Isay.“Iwillvouchforthat.He’snotevencapable,Idon’tthink.He’sweird.

Wiredallwrong.Afreakinmanyways,justlikehisfather.Buthe’shonest.Andhe’sloyal.Idon’t

thinkyoucanaskforanythingmorethanloyaltyinthislife.Lovecomesandgoes.Peoplechange.
Butfamilyisfamily,notthroughblood,butthroughloyalty.Mydadusedtotelluskidsthatall
growingup.He’sgotacircleoffriendssotight,nooutsideforcecouldeverbreakit.Thestrengthof
bondscomesfromwithin,Five’sfather,Ford,usedtosay.He’skindofanerd.Andthere’sthisframed
quoteinFord’shousebackinColorado.Itsays,Lookoutforthepeoplewholookoutforyou.Because
intheend,they’retheonlyoneswhomatter.”

Paxgrunts,butIcanfeelhissmileagainstthebareskinofmycheek.
“Sothat’swhatwedo,right?”Iturninhislaptolookathim.“Right?”
Henods,slowly.
“Wejustlookoutforeachotherwheneverwecan.Andthatincludesyourmom.She’sgood

people,Pax.Andweshouldnotdoubtheruntilshegetsherchancetotelltherestofthestory.”

“Idon’tknowifIwanttohearit.”
“Youdo,”Isay,placingbothmyhandsonhischeeksagain.“Youdo.”
“Andwhatifwefindoutyoursisterisdead?”hewhispers.“Willyoulovethetruththen?”
Islumpagainsthim,unwillingtoeventhinkaboutit.“I’lldealwiththatwhenithappens.”
Wearesilentforlongminutesafterthat.Wejustsitthere,listeningtothedogbark,andthekid

squeal,andthesplashingofthepoolwater.EventuallywehearWestandVictoriatalking.ThenMac
andElliechastisingthedogforsomethingthatprobablyinvolvesalotoflong,wethair.AndNolan
andIvylaughingaboutnamesforthebabyshe’scarrying.

TheonlyMistervoicemissingisOliver.
Iguessthat’sbecausehehasnoMrs.anddoesn’tfeelcomfortablearoundalltheothercouples.Or

maybehe’sstillpissedaboutPaxandmeandcan’tbearthethoughtofseeingustogether?

“MissCookie?”Paxfinallysays,breakingmythoughtsandthelongsilenceatthesametime.
“Yes,Detective?”
“Wouldyouliketogobedwithme?Wasteafewunnecessaryhours?Forgetaboutlater?”
Ilookattheclockonthewall.It’sbarelyeight.“Icertainlywould,Detective.Infact,”Isay,getting

tomyfeetandtakinghishandsoIcanpullhimup,“Ican’tthinkofasinglebetteroptionthanlying
nakednexttoyourightnow.”

“Naked?”heasks,smilingdownatme.“Ineversaidanythingaboutgettingnaked.”Hereachesfor

thehemofmyt-shirtandliftsitupovermyhead,hisbighandscuppingthelacybrathatoutlinesmy
largebreasts.“Butnowthatyoumentionit,it’sjustwhatthedetectiveordered.”

Hetakesoffhisownshirt,dropsitonthefloor,andthenleadsmeintothelittlebedroomatthe

backofthecabana.Iwatchthemusclesmovealonghisbackinthedimlight.Thewaytheystretchand
becometautwitheachstep.Thelittletwinshadowsofdimplesjustabovethewaistbandofhisjeans.
Thecurveofhisassandthelengthofhisstride.

EverythingaboutPaxtonVancescreamspower.Butit’sfunny.Withme,he’ssogentleandsweet.

He’sreallynothinglikethemanIimaginedhimtobealltheseyearsasIplottedandplannedmyway
intohislife.

He’ssomuchbetter.

ChapterThirty-Two-Paxton

Ijustlookather.She’snotevennakedyetandIcan’ttakemyeyesoffher.Sofuckingbeautiful.

Butsomuchmorethanbeauty.“You’resostrong,”Isay,reachingaroundherbacktounclaspherbra.

“IthinkIgetitfromyou,”shesays,lettingthesatinandlaceslipdownherarmsandfalltothe

floor.

“You’resobrave,”Isay,placingmyhandsonherthighs,justunderneathherflirtylittleskirt,and

lettingthemtravelupwardtotheroundcurveofherass.

“Ilearnedfromthebest,”shesays.“It’seasytobebravewheneveryonearoundyouisarole

model.Iloveyourloyalty,PaxtonVance.Toyourmom,andyourfriends,andmybrother.Loyaltyis
handsomeonyou.”

“Iwillalwaysbeloyal,CinderellaShrike.Neverdoubtme.Ever.I’monyourside,Sugar.

Everythinginmylifefromthismomentonleadstoyou.”Igentlyurgehertowardsme,soher
breastsareupagainstmybarechest.Ijustwanttofeelthelifeinsideher.Thebeatingofherheartthat
Ihopewillbeminefromthisdayforward.

“Ifeelthesameway.Idon’tthinkwehaveanythingtoworryaboutwithyourmother.Butwhatever

isgoingon,westandbyheruntilweknowtheabsolutetruth.”

“Thankyou,”Isay.
“Youdon’thaveto—”
“Ido,Cindy.Youhavenoideawhatitwilldotomeifshe’sbehindallthis.ButuntilIgetthatproof

Ican’tturnmyback.AndIalreadyknow—Icanalreadypredict—allthefightsbetweentheguysand
meoverthis.ItotallyunderstandnowwhyCorporaterefusestotalkshitabouthisparents.Theywere
goodtohim.”

“Iknow,”Cindysays,frowningupatme.
“Shewasgoodtome.”
“Don’tthinkaboutityet,OK?Justwait.Thisfeelsliketheend,yaknow?We’resoclose.”
Ifeelittoo.It’slikewehaveonemorecornertoturnandtheneverything—alltheelusiveanswers

—willcomeintoview.

“Let’sgotobed,”Isay,unbucklingmybeltandopeningthebuttonandflyonmyjeans.Iletthem

droptothefloorandthenCindystartstuggingonmyboxerbriefsuntilIcanstepoutandkickallmy
clothesaside.I’mnotfullyhardyet,butthat’sonlybecauseIdon’tfeeltherushoflustrightnow.I
feeltheglowoflove.

Igetinbedandsitup,mybackagainsttheheadboard,thenpatmylapforhertosit.Shefacesme,

herlegsstraddlingmythighs.Herlongblondehairfallingoverhershoulders,reachingdownpast
thetipsofherhardnipplesandthecurvesofherbreasts.Swingingagainstmychestwithjustthe
lightestticklingsensation.

Itakeherhairinmyhandsandplaceitoverhershoulder,makinghershudder.Makingheralready

firmnipplesbunchupeventighter.“Iwanttoseeyou,”Isay.“Iwanttolookatyou.Watchthe
expressiononyourface.Iwantyourhandsonmyshoulders,yournailsdiggingintomyskinaswe
movetogether.”

Hertonguedartsoutandbrushesoverherlips,makingthemglisten.“Youdon’twanttospankme,

Detective?”sheasks,gracingmewithasmile.

Ishakemyheadslowly.“No,”Isay,placingbothhandsonherhips,urginghertoliftupsoIcan

placemynow-hardcockrightattheopeningofherwetentrance.

Shegasps,thencloseshereyesasshelowersherselfbackdownwithoutanysignalfromme.I

closemyeyestoo.Thepressureonmyshaft,thesmallfrictionwecreateaswemeldtogether,andthe
heatfromherbodyisallIneedrightnow.Justthefeelofherisenough.

Ithinkit’sthesameforCindy,becausesheroundsherbackandplacesherheadonmyshoulder,

likeshe’sseekingcomfort.

“It’sOK,”Isay,turningmyheadsoIcanwhisperinherear.Itraceafeather-lighttouchdownthe

curveofherspinewithmyfingertips,whichmakeshershudderagainandslowlybegintomoveon
topofme.Sheliftsherheadandlooksdown,hereyesonme.Onlyme.Thebluejustbarelyvisiblein
thelowlightemanatingoffthedigitalclockonthenightstand.

“Iknow,”shesaysback,herbreathcomingfasterasIbegintomovetoo.
Butthereissomethingverysadaboutthismoment.SomethingIcan’tquiteputmyfingeron.It’s

nother.IthinkbetweenFive,andOliver,andme—Ithinkwecankeephersafe.AndI’mnotworried
aboutme.I’mnotworriedaboutdying.Idon’tknowwhat’shappeningtomeandmyfriends,butit
can’tcomebacktokillingus.It’ssomethingworsethandeath,Ithink.

Andtherearesuchthings.Therearemanythingsworsethanyourowndeath.Youcanlosealoved

one.ThatexplainsOliver ’sreluctancetobeinarelationshipandwhyhedoesn’twantCindyinvolved.
Youcouldloseyouridentity.WhichexplainsWestonandhisliestryingtocoveritallup.Youcould
loseyourreputation,likeMac,andtakeontheworldtryingbeasaintandgetitback.Oryoucould
loseyourself,likeNolan,andturnyourselfintothemonsterpeopleexpectyoutobe.

Allthesethingsareworsethandeathbecauseyouhavetolivewithit.Youhavetogetupeveryday

andfacetheworldyoucreated,orsuccumbedto,orsurrenderedtoandlivewithit.Doesitmatter?
Howitends?Doesitreallymatterwhenweallleavethislifethesameway?Dead?

No.
Theonlythingthatmattersishowyoulive.
So…whatdoIhavetolose?Thisisthequestiononmymind.WhatcantheytakefrommethatI

willmiss,beyondwhatthey’vealreadystolen?

Allthosesamethingsforsure.Butdon’twealllivewiththatpotentialloss?Theriskisn’tinlosing

allthosethingsmyfriendshave.TheriskislosingthefewthingsIstillhaveleft.

IfIlosemymother…orCindy…
“Shhh,”Cindysays,stillrockingslowlyinmylapasshereadsmythoughts.It’sonlythenthatI

realizeatearisfallingdownmycheek.“Don’t,”Cindysays,atearfallingdownhercheektoo.
“Don’tgetlost.”

IfIlosemymothereverythingelsegoeswithit.WhocouldIpossiblytrustafterthatkindof

betrayal?

“We’refine,”Cindyinsists,herwordsbarelyabreath,notevenawhisper.“It’sfine.”
Iwrapmyarmsaroundher,holdinghertightandclose.Ashamedtoshowhermyemotions.Ikeep

herthere,likeaprisoneragainstmychest,andletitallgosowecanescapeforamoment.

Itakemyfullattentionbacktothewomanontopofme.Igetlostinherinstead.Andwhenwe

cometogether,Iletitallgo.

Iletmymothergo,Iletthepastgo,Ilettheshamego,Iletthelifego…andIbecomedead.
Sonow,thereisnomorerisk.Thereisnomorefear.Thereisnothinglefttolosebecausethereis

nothinglefttotake.

Cindyslidesoffme,herbackpressingupagainstmychestaswelieinbed.Iholdherprisoner

again,justalittlebitlonger,untilshefallsasleep.

AndthenIgetup,getdressed,andgolookingforOliver.

ChapterThirty-Three-Cindy

Isitupinbed,confused,myheartracingbeforeIcanmakesenseofwhereI’matandwhat’sgoing

on.

You’reatMr.Romantic’sresort.
Someonesentyouasilverenvelope.
Iswingmylegsoverthesideofthebedandgosearchingformyclothes.
“Pax?”IyellintotheotherroomasIputmybraonandthentugmyshirtovermyheadandslipon

mypantiesandskirt.“Pax?”Wherethehellishe?

Iwalkintothesmalllivingareaandfinditempty,thenlookbackattheclockonthebedsidetable.

It’sonlytenthirty.Didhegolookingforthesilverenvelopewithoutme?

IopenthecabanadoorandfindawholecrowdofMistersandMissesstillatthepool.
“Theresheis,”Arielsays,somekindoffruitydrinkinherhand.
“Whatthehellisgoingonhere?WheredidPaxgo?”
Arielwalkstowardsme.“Heleft,”shesays.“WentlookingforOliver.”
“Well,where’sthat?”
“Probablythebar,”Ivysays.“Itwasawhileago.OliverwasintheregettingdrunkthelasttimeI

sawhim.I’dleavethemaloneforawhile.Letthemworkitout.”

That’sactuallygoodadvice.ExceptI’mnotworriedaboutOliveranymore.I’mwonderingwhat

thehellPaxwasthinking,goingoutwithoutme.

“Thanks.ButI’mjustgoingtogocheck,justtomakesure.”Istartwalkingtowardsthelittlepath

thatleadsbacktothemainpartoftheresortbutArielfollowsme,yankingonmyarmhardenoughto
makemestop.

“You’rekeepingsecrets,babysister.AndIdon’tlikeit.Youneedtotellmewhatyouknow.”
IturnandfaceAriel.“Youknow,”Isay,“ifIhadanyanswersforyou,Imightdothat.Butsince

you’retryingtobullymeintosubmittingtoyourbigsisterlybullshit,thenI’llpass,thanks.”

“Whyareyousoangry?”Arielasks,blinkingherblueeyesatmeinnocently.
“Me?”Isay,pointingatmyself.“I’mnotangry.That’salwaysbeenyou,Ariel.You’vealwaysbeen

theangrysister.IjustwanttofindPax,soifyoudon’tmind—”

“Ifyoudon’tmind,I’llgowithyou,”shesays.
“Idomind,Ariel.I’mnotthebabyanymore.I’mallgrownup,see?AndI’mlookingformy

boyfriend,sojustgobacktothepartyandleavemealone.”

I’mbeingmean.Irealizethat.ButIneedtogetthefuckawayfromherrightnow.Ineedtogetinto

thatkitchenandseeifPaxfoundtheenvelopewithoutme.AndIneedtofindhim.AndOliver.Why
didhegetupandleave?

“I’mjusttryingtohelp,Cinderella.”
Isigh.“Iknow,Ariel.Butbuttout,OK?Justmindyourownbusiness.I’llbebackinalittlebitwith

PaxandOliver.”

Istartwalkingagain,willinghertostayput.IlookovermyshoulderjustasIturnthecornerand

she’sstillstandingthere,armsfolded,drinkinhand.Butatleastshedoesn’tfollow.SoIhurryfaster
alongthewalkway,thenpushmywaypastacrowdofpeopleatthepool.Thisplaceissuperbusy
tonight.Theremustbetwohundredpeoplepartyingaroundthepool.

Ifinallygettothestepsthatleadtothemainbuildingandgetinside.Thebarpackedtoo.Andalive

bandisplaying.ButIdocatchsightofOliverandPax,backnearthepooltable.

Istopandwatchthemforamoment,wonderingifIshouldjointhemorgograbtheenvelopefirst.

Theyaresmilingandjoking,ourproblemstemporarilyforgotten.SoIoptforplanBandheaddown
thehallwaytowardswhereIthinkthekitchenis.Iknowtherearetwoofthem,themainoneusedfor
therestaurantandbarorders,andthecateringkitchenusedasspilloverfortheprivateparties.

Themainkitchenisstillworking,butit’sslow.IkeepgoinguntilI’minfrontofthestainless-steel

doubledoorsthatleadtothecateringkitchenandknowthatnooneisinthere,becausethere’stwo
littlewindowsandbotharedark.

Iglanceovermyshoulder,justtoseeifanyoneislooking.Allclear.SoIpushmywaythrough.
Insidethere’salittlebitoflightcomingfromvariousoutletsthathavesomekindofnightlight

hookeduptothem,butotherthanthat,it’sprettydark.Whichisperfect,sincethelastthingIneedis
forsomeonetoseemegetthatenvelopebeforeIhaveachancetoreadit.

Istopandlookaround,tryingtoorientmyselfandfigureoutwhereIwasstandingearlier,my

eyesadjustingtothedark.Thewaythedim,bluelightsmakethestainlesstablesglowasImakemy
waydowntheaisletowardsthebackoftheroom.

Thisone,Idecide,lookingatthetableinfrontofmewithpotsandpanshangingfromarack

aboveit.ThiswaswhereIwasstanding.

Ibenddownandstartfeelingonthefloorfortheenvelope.
Nothing!
JesusChrist,whatiftheyreallydidthrowitaway?Likethekitchenstafffoundit?OrwhatifPax

gotherefirst?

Istandupandashadowyfigureisstandingontheothersideoftheroom.Isquintmyeyes,trying

tomakeoutwhoitis.“Pax?”

Asharppainshootsupmyneck,myhandgoingthereinstinctively,onlytofindasmall,needle-

likespikestickingoutofmyskin.“Whatthehell—”Ipullitoutandthrowitontheground,andthen
gaspwhentheshadowyfigurestartsmovingtowardsme.

“Whoareyou?Pax?”Myheartisbeatingabnormallyfastallofasudden.“Pax?”Myvisionstarts

togoblurryasitgetscloser.Ibackup,buthitthestove,andjuststandtherelikeI’mparalyzed.

“What’s—”
ButIknow.Idon’tevenneedtoask.
I’vebeendrugged.
Iturnaround,trytotakeafewsteps,stumble,andhavetousethestovetoholdmyselfup.
WhenIlookbehindme,thefigureisonlyafewstepsaway.
“NotPaxton,”thefiguresays.“Fortunately.”
“Whoareyou?”Isquintmyeyes.ButnomatterhowhardItry,Icannotmakeouttheform.It’snot

untilit’salmostuponmethatIrealizeit’snotsomeshadowyfigure.It’sawomaninalong,silver
robewithahoodoverherhead.

“Iwouldhatetokillhimbeforewehadto,”shesaysasIslumpdowntothefloor,unabletomove.
“What—”didyoudo?Butthelastpartofmysentencedoesn’thappenanywherebutinmyown

mind.Icannottalk.Islumpdown,andthelastthingIfeelisafewstrandsofhairbeingtuggedfrom
myheadastheycatchonthestoveonmywaydown.

Icannotmove.
“Welikehim,CinderellaShrike.Weapproveofhim,soverygoodjob,younglady.Thankyoufor

beingsocooperative.”

Andtheneverythinggoesblack.

ChapterThirty-Four-Paxton

“Tenthirty,”Isay,checkingmywatch.“Cindymightbeupnow.”
“Good,”Oliversays,takinghisshotatthepoolgamewe’replaying.“Weneedtofigurethisshit

out.”Hestopstalkingtowatchthesevenballgointothesidepocketandthenstraightensupandlooks
meintheeye.“Tonight,ifshecanfindthatenvelopeagain.”

“Ihopewewerejustlookinginthewrongplaceandit’sstillthere.”
Oliverlooksaroundtheroom,frowning.Thisplaceissobusytonight.Threehundredguests.The

resortistotallyfulltocapacity.ApparentlyNolan’ssister,Claudette,bookedthiseventmonthsago,
longbeforeallthatshitwithNolanwentdownbackeastandshedisappeared.“Thiswholethinggives
methecreeps.”

“Iagree.”It’saZetaPhiBetasororityreunionandaftereverythingmymothertoldCindyandIout

atDelMar,it’sjust…weird.

“Let’sgogetherandgettothebottomofthissilverenvelopething.”
Wesetoursticksbackintotherackandthenpushourwaythroughthepeople,outofthebar,then

outsideandhavetopracticallyfightourwaythroughthepeopleatthepool.

Thequietofthepaththatleadstotheprivatefamilybungalowsisarelief.Andit’sawelcomesight

toseeeveryoneisstillupsowecangetallthisshitoutintheopenandputourcollectiveheads
together.

Thesecretsneedtobeovernow.OliveriswillingtotalkaboutwhathappenedtohimThatNight

andIforone,cannotwaittohearit.Thenwe’regoingtogiveeveryoneelseachancetocomeclean
withanyothersecretssowecanputthisbullshitbehindus.

Asateam.
Fuckthissilence.Thereisatimeandaplaceforthat,butit’slongpastnow.
“Hey,”Arielsays,cominguptousaswecomeintoviewfromthepath.Shestopstalking,then

squintshereyes,lookingpastus.“Where’sCindy?”

“Stillsleeping,Ithink.”
“No,”Arielsays.“Shegotupliketenminutesagoandlefttolookforyouguys.”
“Whatthehelliswrongwithyou,Ariel?Youdon’tlethergooffbyherselfatatimelikethis!”
“Shewasnotfriendly,Oliver.Shebasicallytoldmetofuckoffandmindmyownbusiness.”
“So?”Olivergrabshishairwithbothhandsandturnstolookatme.
“It’sfine,”Isay.“She’sfine.Comeon,Ithinksheprobablywenttogetthatenvelope.”
“Iknewthatenvelopemeantsomething!Thatlittleshitliedtome!”
OliverandIstartwalking,butArieljogstocatchupandsays,“I’mcomingtoo.Itoldhertogo

lookforyouguysinthebar.”

“Well,therewereashitloadofpeopleinthebar,butwedidn’tseeher.Ifshejustleft,wemight’ve

crossedpathsinthecrowdofpeople.”Isaythewords,butIhavethisreallysickfeelinginmygut.
Andwhennooneagreeswithme,thefeelinggrows.

Wepushourwaybackintothecrowdatthepool,thenfightourwaybacktothebar.“Yougocheck

inthere,Ariel,”Oliversays.“We’llgolookinthekitchen.We’llmeetrighthereinfiveminutes.Do
not,”hesays,stressingthewords,“goanywhereelse.Justwaitforus.Evenifshe’snotinthere.”

“Gotit,”Arielsays.Andtakesoff.

“Doyouthinkshe’lllisten?”Iask.
“No,”Oliversays.“Doyouthinkmysisterseverdowhatthey’retold?”
Wehaveasmalllaughatthat.Butwestopquickenoughwhenwegettothedarkkitchenandfindit

empty.

“Where’sthegoddamnedlightsinhere?”Iask.
“Idon’tfuckingknow,”Oliversays.Probablysomemasterswitch.“Butshe’snothere,solet’sgo

backtofindAriel.Maybeshewasinthebarafterall.”

Idon’tmove.
“Comeon,”Oliversays,grabbingmyarm.
“YougomeetAriel.”
“Whatthefuck,Pax?”
“Ijustdon’twanttomissher.Whatif—”
“Whatifwhat?”Icanhearthefearinhisvoiceallofasudden.AndIfeelthesameway.
“Ithinkweneedtosearch,that’sall.”Ilookathimintheglowoflightflowingupfromtheoutlets

onthewall.“Shecouldbehere,rightunderournoses,andwe’dmissit.”IknowI’mimplyingshe’s
hurt,butIdothisforaliving.Ifixshit.Andwhenyou’refixingshit,youdon’tskipthedetails.“We
needtosearch.”

Wespendwholeminuteslookingforthelights,andwhenOliverfinallyfindstheswitch,hidden

behindarackofstainlesssteelbowls,andthewholeroomisilluminated,wehavetoconcede,sheis
nothere.

“That’sgood,”Oliversays.“Nowlet’sgomeetAriel.”
ButIstandinplace,justlookingaround.“Icansmellher,”Isay.“Shewashere.”
“Youcannotsmellher,asshole.”
“No,listen.Shesmellslikeabakery,Oliver.Someperfumeorlotionsheuses.Shesmellslikea

bakery.AndIcansmellitrightnow.Shewasinhere.Veryrecently.”

“Somaybesheleft.Andwenttothebar.AndsheandArielarewaitingforusinthelobby?”
“Gothen,”Isay.“Gomeetthemifyouthinkthat’sthecase.”Istareathim,hisblueeyesnearing

panic.“ButIdon’tthinksheis.Weneedtolookaround.”

OliverlookslonginglyatthedoorandIcanpracticallyreadhismind.
Hewantsthatpossibilitytobetrue.
Butitisn’t.
Andwhenhelooksbackatme,webothknowitforsure.
“Footprints,”Isay.“Shehasthosecutebootson.Lookforascuffontheflooror—”
“Whatthefuckisthis?”
“What?”Isay,makingmywayaroundatabletowherehe’sbendingdown.Hestandsbackup

graspingsomethingverysmallandthininbetweenhisfingers.Heholdsitupandthelightglintsoff
theslenderpieceofsilver.

“Aneedle?”Iask.“Givemethat.”IholdoutmyhandandOliverdropsitintomypalm.“There’s

bloodonthetip.”

“Dude—”Oliversays.
“Don’t,”Isaysternly—I’vefoundenoughbadevidenceinmydayasafixertoknowwhat’s

comingnextfromhim—“panic.”

“Someonedruggedher,”Oliversays,talkingveryfast.“Shecameinherelookingforthat

envelope,bentdownrighthere,wherewe’restanding,andthenstoodup,andsomeonefucking
druggedher.Andthenshepulleditout,threwitdown…”

“There’sascuffmark,”Isay,pointingtothefloor.“Look.Herboots.”
“What’sthat?”Oliverasks,pointingtothestove.

Ibenddownandseeapieceoflong,blondehairstuckinaredstoveknob.Ipullitfreeandholdit

upinthelight.

“Jesusfuck,”Oliversays.“Someonefuckingtookher.”

ChapterThirty-Five-Cindy

Myeyesflutteruncontrollably,andallIcanthinkaboutishowweirdIfeel.Whatthehell…A

clinkingofglassinice,veryclosetomyface—socloseIcanfeelthecoldnessonmycheek.

“What?”
“I’msorry,”awomansays.She’sveryclosetoo.“Idoapologizeforourmethods.It’salways

uncomfortablewhenyoubringsomeonenewintothefold.Wecan’tavoidit,orwewould,Ipromise.
Thiswillpassinafewseconds.Thedrugisreversedveryquickly.”

She’sright.Fromthestartofhersentencetothefinalword,everythinggoesfromslowand

sluggishtocrispandclear.

Itrytoliftmyheadandseewhoistalking,butashootingpainmakesmecryout.
“Theheadacheandmusclecontroltakesalittlelonger.It’sjustaprecaution.Soyoucansitstilland

listenasyourfutureisexplained.”

“What…thefuck—”
“Oh,now.”Thewomanlaughs.“Wedon’tusewordslikethatinthisorganization,Cinderella.And

thatnameofyours,I’msorry,it’sgoingtohavetobechanged.You’reOKwithCynthia,though?
Right?”

ChapterThirty-Six-Paxton

“Ineedagun,”Oliversays,staringatthefewstrandsofhissister ’sgoldenhairIplacedonthe

table.“Like,rightthefucknow.”

“Justrelax,”Isay,pullingoutmyphoneandtabbingacontact.
“Whoareyoucalling?”
“Five,”Isay,whenhepicksup.“Wehaveaproblem.GetNolanandmeetusinthecateringkitchen.

IfyouseeArieloutbythebar,tellherOliverandIwanthertogobacktotheprivatearea
immediatelyandeveryoneelseshouldstaytogetherinPerfect’scabana.AndFive,”Isay,lookingat
Oliverashetriesnottofreakout.“BringthegunsIknowyouhave.Oneforeachofus.”Iendthecall
andshovethephoneinmybackpocket.Oliverisstillstaringatthehair.

“It’sgonnabefine.”
“Howthehellcanyousaythat?”Oliverasks,hisangerreplacinghisshock.“Someonedrugged

herandthentookheraway,Pax.”

“Irealizethat,Oli.Butit’snotgoingtodoanygoodifwefreakthefuckout,OK?Now,look.Ido

thisshitforaliving.Weneedtostaycalm.Weneedtolookateverythinginhereandtrytofigureout
wheretheytookher.Nolanknowsthisplace.Everyinchofit.Hebuiltit,right?He’sgottheplans.
He’sgotsecuritycameras.We’regonnafindoutwhodidthis,wheretheywent,andwe’regoingto
getCindyback.”

“Howlongdoyouthinkshe’sbeengone?”
“Itcan’tbemorethantwentyminutes.Thirtytops.Let’slookaroundwhilewewait.Therehastobe

somekindofclue.Peoplealwaysleavesomethingbehind.”

ChapterThirty-Seven-Cindy

BythetimeIcanfinallyliftmyheadandfocusmyeyesenoughtoseeherfacewithsomesortof

clarity,Iknowonethingforcertain.“You’renotMariel,”Isay,coughinglikemylungsarefullof
fluid.

Thewomanlaughsandpullsthesilverhoodoffherhead,revealingshortblondehairthatcurls

alonghershoulders.“IneversaidIwas,Cynthia.”

“Butyou’recallingmeCynthia.Likeshedoes.”
“Like…”Thewomantiltsherhead,likeadogwho’sheardanunfamiliarsound.“Youspoketo

MarielHawthorne?”

Oh,Ithink,takingadeepbreathtotrytoclearmymindofthegripthedrughadonme.Soshe’s

notaswellinformedasshewantsmetobelieve.“Severaltimes,”Ichokeout,stillfeelingthe
pressureinmylungs.Whatthehelldidshegiveme?Iturnmyheadtolookaround,figureoutwhere
thefuckIam,buteverythingspinsandIhavetofightdownnausea.

“Don’tmovetoofast,”shecautionsme.“Thesideeffectsofthatareparticularlyuncomfortable.

Justrelaxalittlelonger.You’regoingtobehereforalittlewhile.”

Istraightenmyheadagain,lookherstraighton.I’msittingatasmallroundtablewithasilver

tablecloth,tablesetwithfinechina.There’sasmallsilverdome,likethekindyouseeonaroom
servicetablethatconcealsafewsmallpadsofbutterunderneath.Andabottleofchampagnesitsnext
toit.

Shenoticesmestaringatthebottle.“You’renotreadyforthatjustyet.Trytheicewaterfirst.If

you’resatisfiedwithmyoffer,thenwe’llhaveplentyoftimetocelebratelater.Afterwe’realldone
ironingoutthedetails.”

“Details?”Iask,reachingforthecoldglassthatwokemeupandtakingasip.Mymouthissodry;

IfeellikeI’vebeenlostinthedesertfordays.Thetableislitupbyasmallchandelierhangingover
thecenter.Justenoughlighttoseeandnotenoughtorevealwhat’shidinginthedarknesssurrounding
me.

“Allthethingsyou’regoingtodoforus,Cynthia.Andallthethingswe’regoingtodoforyouin

return.”

Shereachesintoherrobeandtakesoutasilverenvelope.TheoneIdroppedinthekitchenearlier,

fromtheaddresslabelonthefront.“Youshouldbemorecarefulwiththis,”shesays,placingitonthe
tablebetweenus.“Isavedyouthistime.Butifanyonegetsaholdofthis,Cynthia,theramifications
willbeunpleasant.”

“Define…unpleasant.”
“Oh,I’llexplainourbylaws,don’tworry.I’mjusttryingtowarnyou.Ifanyonefindsoutthat

you’renowamemberoftheSilverSociety,well…”Shechucklesandlooksaway,shakingherhead,
likethisissofunny.Shegivesmeasidelongglanceasthelaughdies.“Youwillforfeityourfamily.”
Sheholdsbothhandsout,likeit’sjustthissimple.

“I’mnotapartofyourlittlesecretgroup,”Ispit,furiousatthiswholesituation.“AndIwon’tjoin.

Sosorry,lady.You’regonnahavetofindyourselfanotherlittlepuppet.Idon’tplaygameslikethis.”

“Youknow,”shesays,placingaperfectlymanicuredfingernailuptohermouthlikeshe’stryingto

becute,“yoursistersaidthesamething.”

Icannothidethegaspofshockthatcomesburstingoutofmyheavylungs.“What?”Iwhisper.
“AuroraShrikehadherchance.Don’tmakethesamemistakeshedid,Cinderella.Oryourparents

mightfindanotheroneoftheirdaughtershasgonemissing.”

ChapterThirty-Eight-Paxton

Wefindeightmoreclues,includingafewmorestrandsofCindy’shairandalonggashonthe

floorofthecateringkitchen,probablymadebyherboots,andmostlikelyindicatingshewas
dragged.

“Shedidn’tleavethekitchen,”Nolansays,phoneinhand,showingusthesecurityfootage.“Look,”

hesays.“Shewentinhere,throughthatdoorthere”—Nolanpointstothelargedoubledoorsthatlead
tothehallway—“andshedidn’tcomeout.”

“Thenwherethefuckdidshego?”Oliverasks.
“Well.”Nolansighs.“Idon’tknow.Butshedidn’tleavebytheconnectingkitcheneither—itwas

stillbeingcleanedupforthenight.”

“Ialreadyaskedthemiftheysawher,”Fivesays.“Theysaidno.”
“Soyou’retellingme,”Isay,“sheneverleftthekitchen.”
“Yes,”Nolansays.“Wehavenocamerasinthiskitchen,butwedointheregularone.Andthey

don’tshowherinthereeither.”

“Whynocamerasinthiskitchen?”Iask.
“Idunno,”Nolansays.“Claudettedesigneditasspilloverforcateringandlargeparties.Itwasn’t

meanttobeusedeveryday.”

“Claudette?”Fiveasks.
Wealllookateachother.ThenNolan.
Hesighs,thennods.“ShewasinchargeoftheconstructionoutherewhileIwasworkinginSan

Diego.

“Sothere’sahiddenroom,”Oliversays.Andhe’snotjoking.Mostpeoplewouldthinkthat’sa

littletooScooby-Dootobetakenseriously.Butifthere’sonethingI’velearnedfrombeingOliver
Shrike’sbestfriend,andbyextension,insideFive’souterinnercircle,it’sthattheweirdershitgets,
theeasieritisforthemtoacceptittobetrue.

Somemightcallthatparanoia.
Theycallitthe“realworld”.
“Andallweneedtodoisfindit.”Fivestartswalkingtheperimeter,eyessearchingthewallsfor

anyindicationthatsomethingishiddenbehindthem.

“Youthinkthere’sahiddenroom?”NolanisstillinScooby-Dooland.
ButIhavelearnedtotrustFiveandOliverovertheyears,soIdon’twastemytimeasking

questions.

“Guys,”Nolansays.“Comeon.There’snohiddenroom.Ihavetheplansright—”
“Foundit,”Fivesays,standinginfrontofanopenelectricalpanel.“Standback.”

ChapterThirty-Nine-Cindy

“Don’tlooksohorrified,Cynthia,”thewomansays.“It’sveryeasytopreventanotherfamily

crisis.”

“Justjoinyourlittlecult,”Isay,sarcasmpracticallydrippingoffmytongue.
“We’renotacult.DidMarieltellyouthat?”
Isaynothing.
“Well,she’slying.Wearethemostprominentcitizensofthiscountry.Wearetheleaders,the

innovators.Wearedoctors,lawyers,judges,mayors,governors,andmany,manyotherthings,
Cynthia.Butwearenotacult.Weareasororalsociety.”

“Asecretsociety,youmean,”Imanagetosay.“IhavetobehonestMs.—”Iletthetitlehangthere

toseeifshevolunteersaname.

“YoumaycallmeClaudette.”
Hernameringsintheairlikethelingeringtoneofabellafterbeingstruck.
“Oursistersrunthiscountry,Cynthia.Andyouwillbeoneofthem.”Shelooksmeupanddown

forasecond,tskinghertongue.“Ofcourse,wewillneedtocleanyouupandmakeyoupresentable.
Andyouwon’tbewastingyourtimeasaprivatedetectiveanymore.”Shesmiles.“Wewillliftyouup,
Cynthia.Youwillrunacity,thenastate,andthen,perhaps,ifyouspendadecadeortwoasaloyaland
hardworkingsister,wewillrewardyouwiththeultimateprize.”

She’stalkingaboutthepresidency.Overkillmuch?LikeI’deverbetheonethey’dputinthe

highestofficeontheplanet.ShemustthinkI’mthemostnaïvegirlever.

Andwhynot?It’stheblondehair.I’mthepalominoracehorseonthetrackthatday.
Theonlythingpeopleseewhentheylookatmeismylooks.
Well,that’sfinewithme.Ilikebeingunderestimated.
Iwanttosaysomanythings.Like,Lady,youarebat-shitcrazy.Or,I’mgoingtoripyourheadoffif

youdon’ttellmewhathappenedtomysister.Or,Justwaittillmyboyfriendgetshere,youstupidcunt.
Andthenwe’llsee—

“Whatdoyouthinkofthat?”Shesmilesatme.Calmly.Coolly.Certainsheisincontrol.
“Ithink,”Isay,really,reallywantingtogiveheraproperBombshellresponsethatwouldmakemy

motherproud,butthinkingbetterofitatthelastsecond.“IthinkI’dliketoknowwhereIam.”

Anotherindulgentsmile.Andthenshesnapsherfingersandlightsbeginflickingon,onebyone,

aroundtheperimeteroftheroom.

ChapterForty-Paxton

Fiveflipsaswitchandthelightsgooff,thencomeonagain.Butnothingelsehappens.
“Yeah,”Nolansays.“Nicehiddenroom.”
“Youknowwhat?”Oliversays.“Youcanjustgobacktoyourlittlefucking—”
“Oliver,”Fivesnaps.“Shutup.Hehasn’tseenwhatwe’veseenovertheyears.Don’tblamehimfor

thinkingthisissomecrazy,fucked-upshit.OK?”

OliverlookslikehemightpunchFive.ButFivestandshisgroundandmeetshisgazeandOliturns

awayfromNolan.

Nolansighs.“Look,youguys—”
Butbeforehecanfinish,there’sabeepingsoundandwealllookbehindus.
Theshelffilledwithstainless-steelmixingbowlsismovingbackwardsintothewall,revealinga

dark,emptyhallway.

“Whatthefuck?”Nolansays.
Iputahandonhisshoulder.BecauseIgetit.WhenFiveandOliverstartedtellingmeaboutthe

secrethiddenworldtheylivedin,oneIhadnoclueabout,Ifeltthesameway.“Justtrustthem,Nolan.
Yoursisterispartofsomethingmuch,muchbiggerthanyoucanevenimagine.Anditallmakes
sensenow,doesn’tit?Shecameintoyourlifewhenyouwerejuststartingthisresortproject.Offered
upsomeofherownmoney.Andnowyouknow,”Isay.“Nowyouknowwhyshedidthat.”

“Shewasplanningonusingthisplaceassome…some…”Buthecan’tevenmakehimselfsaythe

words.

“Secretheadquarters,”Fivefinishesforhim.“Comeon,Cindyhastobeinthere.”
Weallhaveguns,evenNolan.HelookedattherifleFivewashandinghimliketherewasno

fuckingwayhewasevertouchinganotherweaponagainafterwhathappenedoutonMartha’s
Vineyard.Butthenhehadasecondtofinishthatthought.AndheknewIvywouldbedeadrightnowif
hehadn’ttakenactionwhenhedid.

Sohetookhisrifle.Wealltookourrifles,plusahandgun,stickingthepistolsinthewaistbandsof

ourpants.

AndnowFivegoesfirst,hisrifleathighready.NolanandIgosecond,bothofusmimicking

Five’sweaponposition.AndOliverbringsuptherearsowehavesomeoneatourbacks.

ChapterForty-One-Cindy

Mirrors.Theroomiscircularandthewallsarelinedwithmirrors,sothatwhenIlookatthem,I

seenothingbutaninfinitereflectionofme,sittingatthistable,withNolan’scrazysister,Claudette
Delaney.

“Wecalltheminfinityrooms,”shesays.
“Youhavemorethanone?”Iask,tryingnottogetlostinthereflections.It’slikeblackmagic,

right?Theonlytruerepresentationofinfinityinreallife.

“Oh,yes.I’mgoingtodestroythisresortwhenweleavehere,Cynthia.Everyoutsiderecruitis

honoredwithaninfinityroomthatisonlyusedonce.Afterall,itisn’toftenwepluckagirlfrom
obscurityanddeliverherinfinitepossibilities.It’sveryspecial.Notmeantforthemasses.”

“Whyme?”Iask,swallowinghard,mymouthdryagain.Iwantanotherdrink,butIfinishedthe

glassofwaterIwasofferedandthereisn’tanythingleftbutice.

“Becauseyoursisterdeclined,sweetthing.Andwereally,reallywantedher.We’veevaluatedyour

othersistersovertheyears.Jasmineiswhat,atattooartist,likeyourmother?Hmmph,”Claudette
says,clearlyunimpressed.

“She’sdamngoodatit.”
“She’snotworthy,Cynthia.AndBelletakesafteryourfather.”
“She’sanaccountant,”Isay,gettingmoreandmorepissedoffasthisfuckingwitchofawoman

evaluatesmyfamily.“Sherunsmyfather ’sentireempire.”

“AndArielneverevenfinishedcollege.”Claudettepauses,toseewhatIhavetosayaboutAriel.

ButIknowbetterthantotellanyoneanythingaboutthatsister.“Nocomment?”

Istaysilent.
“Aurorawastheperfectcandidate.StarstudentatPrinceton,beautiful,almostasbeautifulasyou.

Andinlovewithamanwedearlywantedtorecruit.”

“Five,”Isay,beforeIcanstopmyself.
“Five,”sherepeats.“Butyou,dear,areabouttodeliveramanwehavewantedsincehismother

betrayedusthirty-oneyearsago.”

Pax.Itakeadeep,measuredbreath,mywholebodyshakingasIletitout.“Youkilledmysister.”
“Shekilledherself.”AndthenClaudetteliftsthelittlesilverlidoffthetinyplattersittinginthe

centerofthetableandrevealsasinglewhitewafer.Likethekindyou’dfindinaCatholicmass.

IlookatClaudette.“Whatisthat?”
“That’soneofyourchoices.Youcaneatit,takethepathyoursistertookmanyyearsagoandbe

leftinthisroomasitgoesupinflames.Oryoucandrinkthechampagneandleaveherewithme.”

Istareatthebottleofchampagne.Thenthewafer.
“Yougiveussomething—”
“Likewhat?”
“Littlethings.Wesetupmeetings.Wedeliveryoucontracts.Yousignthem,ofcourse.It’sjust

business.Wehelpyourisetothetopandyouhelpusstayatthetop.”

“SoIbasicallygiveyoumylifeeitherway.IfIjoinyou,Idoyourbiddingandthenyoucontrol

melikeapuppet.AndifIsayno,youkillme.”

“Whenyouputitthatway,it’ssuchaneasychoice.Isn’tit,Cynthia?”

“Stopcallingmethat,”Isay,angerpouringoutofme.Ihateher.Ihateher,Ihateher,Ihateher.

I’mgoingtokillyou,Ithinkinmyhead.I’mgoingtokillyouveryslowly.

“ShallIpopthecork?”Claudetteasks.“OrshouldIallowyoutheopportunitytoeatthatwaferand

diepainlesslyafterIignitetheroom?”

IhesitateandwhileIdothat,Claudettetakesoutherphoneandtabsanicon.
Beneaththemirroredwallpaneldirectlyinfrontofme,flameserupt.Thenanothereruption,and

another,andanother.Untilthewholeroomisnothingbutaninfinitecircleofflames.

“Time’sup,princess.Ineedananswer.Rightnow.”
Theroomisalreadyfillingwithsmoke.Smokemylungs,damagedfromwhateverthatdrugwas,

can’thandle.IstandupandtrytoscootthechairbackbeforeIrealizeI’mchained.Thereareshackles
aroundmyanklesandI’mchainedtothechair.“I’lljoin,”Ichokeoutthroughmywheezing,
desperatetobreathe.“I’lljoin.Justgetmeoutofhere!”

Justasthewordscomeoutofmymouth,analarmsounds.Claudette’seyesgowide,thenrelax.

Herhandcomesupfromunderthetable,aguninhergrip.Shepointsitatmyheadandsays,“Perfect.
We’llcontinueourcelebrationinthecar.”Shetossesmeakeywithherotherhand.“Unchain
yourself.”

Iscrambleforthekeyandbendover,thankfulforthefresherairthatisstillhoveringlowtothe

groundastheroomquicklyfillsupwithsmoke.

Onefootshackleisopen.Thenboth.
WhenI’mfree,Iplaceahandovermymouthandtrytoholdmybreath.WhenIlookatClaudette,

shehasanoxygenmaskoverherface.

“Comewithme,”shesaysinatinnyvoicecomingthroughthefilteronhermask.“Andbringthe

champagnewithyou.”

Igetup,stillwobbly,andweak.MyheadisspinningandIhavetotakeamomentforittostop.I

grabtheneckofthebottleandstumbleforwardintothethicksmoke.

“Go,”Claudettesays,comingaroundbehindme,gunpointedatmyhead,andpushingmeonthe

back.

“Gowhere?”
Butonesectionofflamesdisappearsandthesamesectionofmirrorslidesdownintothefloor,

revealingadarkhallway.

Itakeastep,slowly,carefully.Wewalkforwardandwhenthedarknesssurroundsme,theopening

closesatmyback.

ChapterForty-Two-Paxton

Analarmsounds,wailinginourearsaswemovethroughthecorridor.
“Whatisthat?”Iask.
“Fire,”Nolansays,lookingdownatthesecurityapponhisphone,whichisscreamingthealarm

fromitsspeakerinunisonwiththealarmsbehindusbackinthekitchen.

“Hurry,”Fivesays.“Thisiswhentheymaketheirescape.”
“Who?”NolanandIsaytogether.
ButFivedoesn’tanswer,juststartsrunningaheadofus.Theonlylightcomingfromthebeam

attachedtohisrifle.Butonlyafewsecondslater,wecomeupagainstaconcretewall.

“Nowwhere?”Iask.“It’sadeadend.”
“No,”Fivesays.“Look.”Hisriflelightispointedataseaminthewallwheresmokeispouring

out.“Theylititupalready,”Fivesays.

“Who?”Nolanasks.
“Nolan,”Fivesays,ignoringthequestiononceagain.“Therehastobeanexit.Lookattheplans.

Findtheexit.”

“There’snothingbutaventilationshaftleadingouttotheeastsideofthepropertyhalfamile

away.”

“That’sit.Howdowegetintoit?”
“Itsaysit’sonlyatwelve-by-twelveshaft.Wewon’tfit.”
“Theplansarewrong,Nolan.NowtellmehowwegetinthereorCindyisdead!”
Nolanstudieshisphone,turnsaroundinacircle,likehe’stryingtogethisbearings,andthen

pointstotheceiling.“There.It’supthere.”

Wealllookuptoseeahatchintheceiling.Oliverdropshisrifleandjumpsup,grabbingontoone

oftheexposedpipesafewfeetaway.Heswingshisbodyback,thenliftshislegsandgivesthehatcha
two-footedkick.Overandoveragain,untilthepanelbucklesfromthestressandthetinydoor
collapses.

“Ifweclimbupthere—“
“Wewon’tfit,”Isay,suddenlyhatingmysizeforthefirsttimeinmylife.
“Iwill,”Arielsaysbehindus.
“Wetoldyoutogoback!”Oliveryells.
Arielsmilessweetly.“Don’tyourememberwhatMomalwayssaid?You’renotthebossofme,

littlebrother.I’mthebossofme.Soquitwastingtimeandliftmeup.”

OliverandFivedothatandIturntoNolan.“Nolan,gobackintotheresortandgetsomeonetothe

endofthattunnel.Rightfuckingnow!”Heturnstoleave,butIgrabhisshoulderwithonemore
thought.“AndNolan?Don’tbeafraidtoshootifyougettherebeforeus.”

Nolantakesabreath,nods,andthenhe’sgone.
“There’sanothershaftuphere,youguys,”Arielcallsbacktous.“Butthere’ssmokepouringout

ofit.Whatever ’sbehindthatwallisupinflames.”

“There’sanothershaft,Ariel.Somewherecloseby.Theonethatleadsoutside.Canyoufeela

draft?Somethingthattellsyouairisleakingthrough?”

Silenceforalmostaminute.

“Ariel?”Oliveryells,jumpinguptograbthepipeagainandthenswinginghisarmstograb

anothersohecanpokehisheadintothehatch.“Ariel?”hescreams.

“Ifoundit!”shefinallycallsfromsomedistanceoff.“It’sofftoyourleft.Holdon.”
Afewmomentslaterthewalltoourleftbeginsmovingback.
“Nicefunhouse,”Arielsays,standingontheotherside.“Whoeverbuiltthisplaceisacomplete

freak.”

“Claudette,”Five,Oliver,andIsaytogether.
Wegothroughthepassagewayandendupinatunnel.
“It’saroad,”Arielsays.“Nolanwillbeontheotherend.TheylefthereinacarandNolanwill

headthemoffattheotherend.”

“Fuckthat,”Isay.“Hejustleftherefiveminutesago.There’snowayhecangetouttotheendof

thattunnelintime.”Itakeoffatarunandleaveallthreeofthembehind.

“Pax,”theyallyellafterme.
“Pax,stop!Theremightbemoreofthem!”
“Youwon’tmakeitintime!”
“Pax!”
Idon’tstop.Idon’tevenconsiderstopping.Irunharder,mylonglegsfinallygoodforsomething.

TheywillnottakeCindy.Theywillnevertakeherawayfromme.Idon’tcareifIdietrying,shewill
notendupunderthethumbofwhoeverthesesickSilverSocietyassholesare.

ChapterForty-Three-Cindy

There’salimowaitinginatunneloncewegetthroughthepassageway.Atallguy,aboutPaxton’s

age,standswaitingforusdressedinadarksuit.

“Let’sgo,”Claudettesays.
“Who’sthat?”Iask,onceIgetinsidethecarandthedriverclosesthedoor.
“You’llfindoutsoonenough,littlepretty.”Claudette’ssmileissicklysweetliketheperfumethat

permeatesthiscar.Itmakesmystomachheave.“Butnowwecancelebrate.”

“Whataboutallthepeopleintheresort?There’shundredsofpeopletheretonight,includingmy

sisterandbrother.AndPax.”

“Allexpendable,dear.”Shepatsmyleg.
“IthoughtyouwantedPaxalive?Ithought—”
“Wedid.”
“Whatdoyoumeanyoudid?YoujusttoldmePaxandIcouldbetogether.”
“Oh,”Claudettelaughs.“No,no,no.Yousweet,sweetinnocentthing.Isaidwewantedhim.ButI

neversaidalive.”

Ipunchherintheface.Rightinherfuckingteeth.Bloodgoesspurtingoutofherlipandherhand

comesup,eyeswidewithsurprise.

“Youlittlebitch!Stewart!”shescreams.“Stopthiscarrightnowandcometieher—”
IgrabClaudette’shair,bringmykneesup,andthensmashherteethagain.IthinkIknockoneout

thistime.

Butshe’sfightingback,ignoringmyattack.Hereyesrageatmeasshedragshernailsacrossmy

cheek.Thestingshouldn’tbeenoughtostopme,butsheclipsthecornerofmyeyewithhernailand
itfillswithblood.

Thatonepauseisallittakestogivehertheadvantage.I’mstillhalf-drunkonthedrugsshewoke

meupfrom.AndtheguyshecalledStewarthasbothmyarmsandClaudetteissittingonmylegs.She
throwsahoodovermyfaceandthentiesmywriststogether.

“Getbackinanddrive,”Claudettesays,outofbreath.“Now!Weneedtogettothegatebeforemy

worthlessbrotherfiguresthistunnelout.”

ChapterForty-Four-Paxton

UpaheadIseebrakelights.ButbeforeIcancelebrateorevenaimmyrifleatthemanIsee

strugglingwithsomeoneinthebackunderthedimglowoftheinsidedomelight,heclosesthedoor,
getsbackinthedriver ’sside,andtheytakeoffagain.

Olivercatchesupwithme,pantingandbreathinghardfromhissprint.“Wasthatthem?”heasks.
“Yes,”Igrowl.“Thatwasthem.Comeon,we’renotdoneyet.”
Wetakeoffrunningagain.Oliverkeepspacebesidemeasthecarslows,thenstopsoncemore.
Wekeeprunninguntilwe’rewithinahundredyardsofthem,whenwerealizewhathappened.
Thetunnelhasagate.
Anditisclosed.
Iwillkissyou,NolanDelaney.IfIseeyouagain,Iwillkissyourightonthefuckinglipsforcoming

throughforme.

ChapterForty-Five-Cindy

“Whyarewestopping?”Claudetteasks.“Keepgoing!”
Thereissomuchbloodinsidethehood,it’srunningintomymouth.
“Thegate,”theguycalledStewartsays.“Thegateisclosed.”
“Itcannotbeclosed!Iopeneditmyselfwhenwegotinthecar.”
“Well,”Stewartreplies,“yourprogramappearstohavebeenoverridden.”
“You’renotgoingtoescape,”Isay,chokingmywordspasttheblood.“Notthistime,youstupid

cunt.”

Shewhipsthehoodoffmyheadandgrabsmebymybraids,bashingmyheadintotheseatinfront

ofme.“IfIgodown,Cinderella,yougodownwithme.”

“I’mOKwiththat,”Isay,lookingatherthroughoneeye.“I’msoOKwiththat.”
“Mybrotherdidit,”Claudettesays,lookingawayfromme.“Hemust’vefoundthetunnelonthe

securitysystem.Butthere’samanualswitchonthesideofthewalloverthere.”Shepointstoafaint
glowcomingoffanelectricalpanel.“Getoutandopenthegate.”

Stewartdoesn’texactlycomplain,buthedoesn’texactlyhoptoit,either.Heopensthedoorand

getsout,shootingClaudetteaverydirtylookashedoesit.

“Hurry,youstupidpieceofshit—”
AndthenStewart’sheadexplodes.
Claudettedoesn’tevenblink.Sheopensherdoor,grabsmebymyfeet,andstartsdraggingmeout

ofthecar.

Igiveheratwo-footedkick,butmisseverythingexcepthershoulder.Sheisnotdeterred.
“Stoprightthere!”
It’sOliver!
“I’llkillher,”Claudettesays,forcingmetomyfeet.“I’lldotoherexactlywhatyoujustdidtomy

driver.”Shepushestheguntothesideofmyhead,makingherpoint.

Olivercomesintoview,rifleoutinfrontofhim,laserscopemountedontop.Thereddothitsme

inmybloodlesseye,makingmeblink,butit’sgonewhenIopenitbackup.

“Howaboutwemakeadeal,Claudette?”
“Nodeal.”
“Justlisten,OK?It’sagoodone.Youlethergoandthenwe’llkillyou.”Andthenhestarts

laughing.Likeoneofthosecrazy,madmanlaughs.

“Youstupid,arrogant—”
“Shoother!”Iscream.“Shoother,shoother,shoother!”
IsweartoGod,Icanhearherfingertightenonthetriggerofthegun.Iclosemyeye,waitingfor

themomentwhentheexplosionblowsmybrainsout.

Itcomes.
Blood,andbone,andtissue.I’mcoveredinit.Istumbleback,fall,myheadhittingthepavement.I

canhearscreamingandittakesmeasecondtorealizeit’smewho’sscreamingwhenIopenmyone
goodeye.

Paxwalksoutfromtheshadowsofftomyright,hisgunstillraised,smokeflowingoutfromthe

endofthebarrel.“Fuckthatbitch,”hesays,kneelingdowntosmooththeblood-soakedhairoffmy

face.“Shedeservedthat.”

“Yeah,”Iwhisper,asOliveruntiesmylegsandPaxtakescareofmywrists.Ileanintohimandhe

hugsme.Nothinghaseverfeltsogoodbeforeinmylife.“Fuckher.”

Myheadswoons.ThingsgoblurryandgrayasPaxliftsmeup.Peopleareshoutingnow.Sirens

andhelicoptersareblaringinthebackground.IhearArieltalkingtomeatonepoint,chanting,
“You’regoingtobeOK.You’regoingtobeOK…”overandoverandoveragain.ButIcan’tseeher
becausemyeyeswon’topen.Onlymyearswork.

Andthen…eventhatstops.
That’sallthereis.
Story’sover,MissCookie,Ihearthedetectivesay.Story’sover.

ChapterForty-Six-Cindy

Iwakeupofcourse.Intheambulancejustafewminuteslater.
PaxtonshotcuntyClaudette,shedidn’tshootme.
Ineverdoubtedhim.
ThedrugsClaudettefedmehavesomekindofweirdsideeffectthatsticksinyoursystemfora

whileandcancauseyoutoflowinandoutofunconsciousnessforuptoforty-eighthours.Sothey
broughtmetoSanDiegoGeneralHospitalforobservation.

It’snotsobadbeinginjuredinbattle.Imean,it’sahellofalotbetterthanbeingNolanandIvy,

whoarestuckoutthereinthedesertansweringquestionsaboutwhytherewasasecretunpermitted
tunnelunderneaththeirfive-starresort.

Nottomentionthefireintheroomofmirrors.ThecopsactuallyaskedIvyifshewasadevil

worshipper.

Thatconversationwasahoottolistento.
I’mstillprivatelycrackingupaboutIvyRockwellbeingpaintedaSatanist.
OrPaxandOliver,whoweretakenintocustodyandarebeingheldforquestioningintheshooting

ofClaudetteDelaney.

Five’shandlingthat.TurnsoutOliverandPaxwerefilmingthewholethingusingcameras

mountedontheirrifles,sothere’splentyofprooftobackupourstory.ThatfuckingFive.Hethinks
ofeverything,doesn’the?Evenguncams.

OrWestandMac,whotooktheMisterjetbacktoMac’shouseinColorado,tryingtowaitthe

investigationout.They’retotallyoutoftheloop.

SoIgetstuckhereinthehospitalwithAriel,Ellie,andVictoria.
“Bitch,”Torisays.“Areyouevenlisteningtome?”
She’sbeentalkingincessantlysinceshegotherethismorning.I’mstuckinbed.WhatchoicedoI

have?

“Myplanisstillagoodone.”
“True,”Elliesays,eatingmycannedpeachesoffmyhospitaltraywithasporkassheloungesnext

tomeinbed.“I’minclinedtoagreewithher,Cindy.WeshouldgiveitavoteonceIvygetsback.”

Arielanswersforme.“Well,I’mintoo.IsaytheseMistershavetakenfartoolongtofigurethis

shitout.It’stimetheystepasideandletthewomentakeover.”

“Iloveyou,”Toritellsmysister.
“Loveyaback,bitch.”
Icrackaneyeballopenastheyfist-bump.IgettostaysilentbecauseI’mpretendingtobesleeping

offmydrugstomakethemallleavemealonesoIcanplanmynextMissCookieMeetsDetective
Mysteriousencounter.

Ikindalikethesecrazybitches,buttheyarenotverygoodattakinghints.Ellieisgonnastick

aroundaslongastheykeepdeliveringmetrayswithpeachesonthem.Toriisgoingtostickaround
untilIagreetoherplan.AndAriel…well,she’smysister.She’salwaysaround,evenwhenshe’snot.

Wedidn’tgetalltheanswers.Westilldon’tknowwhereMarielis.Orwhatpartsheplayedinall

this.AndOliver,well…Torisaysthathe’snext.ThateveryMisterhasbeenfuckedwithandnowit’s
histurn.Nottomentionallthelingeringquestionsaboutmysister,Rory.

Sothatreallysucks.
ButIdidgettheonethingIwentafterbeforethiswholethingstarted.
MyMister.
AndI’mhappywiththat.
Fornow.

Epilogue-Paxton

“Why,MissCookie,”Isay.“Whatbringsyoutomybedroomtonight?Ithoughtyourcasewas

solved?”

CindyisleaningagainstthewindowoftheMalibuhouseterrace,backlitbytheorangey-redsunset

behindher.SheplacesthebackofherhandupagainstherforeheadwithadramaticflairVivianLeigh
wouldenvy.“No,Detective,”shesays,withanexaggeratedSouthernaccent.Sheswingsherheadto
lookatme,thenresumesherdespairingpose.“Itwasn’tsolved,merely…haltedinplace.”Shecomes
towardsme,herlong,coral-coloreddresssplittingallthewayupherthighwitheachstep.“Ineed
answers,Detective.AndIneedyoutogetthemforme.”

“Hmmm,”Isay,lookingherupanddownlewdlyasIgrabmydickthroughmypants.“Butyou’re

broke,MissCookie.Deadbroke.Howwillyouevermanagetopaymyfee?”

“Ihaveheardthroughthegrapevine,Detective”—Iraisemyeyebrowsinanticipation.I’vebeen

waitingtoplaythisgamewithheralldamnday—“thatIcansuckaman’scocklikethewindblows
acrosstheGulfduringhurricaneseason.”

Ichuckleandthenbiteonthestemofmyunlitpipetostopit.It’saniceprop,Ithink.Makingits

debutMissCookieMeetsDetectiveMysteriousappearancerightnow.Istillhavethetrenchcoat.And
thehat.Butthepipeisstillaniceaddition.

Itakeasteptowardsher,makingsuretoadmirehertitsinthatlow-cutgown.“Well,”Isay,stuffing

thepipeinmypocketsoIcanfondlebothherbreastsatthesametime.“Howcouldamanturnthat
down?”

“Hecan’t,”shesays,leaninginwithpouty,seductivelipslikeshe’sgoingtokissme,butpulling

awayatthelastpossiblemoment.“Noman,”shesays.“NoteventhegreatDetectiveMysterious.”

Icometoherthistime.AndIdon’tpullawayatthelastsecond.Ikissher.Deep,andhard,andsoft,

andseductively…allatthesametime.Tryingtoforgetallthemany,manythingsthatstillhauntme.

Whereismymother?Shehasn’tansweredherphonesincelastweekwhenallthatshitwentdown

inthedesert.

Whatwasinthatsilverenvelope?CindysaidClaudettehaditintheinfinityroom,butthecops

insisttheyneverfounditonherperson.There’snotellingifitwentupinflames.

It’sjustsofrustrating.Weweresoclose.“Whatifwenevergetanyanswers,Cindy?”
Shebowsherheadandlooksupatme,battingherfalseeyelashestotrytokeepthescenegoing.

ButIcansensethemomentshegivesin.“We’reallstillhere,Paxton.Andthenumberofpeopleon
yoursidehasdoubledinsizesincelastyearwhenallthisshitstartedhappening.We’llgettothe
bottomofit.”

“Therearejustsomanymysteries.”
“That’sOK,”shesays.
“Whatifwenevergetthathappilyeverafter?”Iask.God,Ijustwanttomakeherhappy.She

refusedtosignthepaperworkthatgivesherownershipofthehouse,butIforgedhersignature.So
it’sadonedeal.Butit’snotenough.It’sjustnotenoughtomakemefeellikenomatterwhathappens
tome,shewillalwaysbetakencareof.

“Doweneedit?”Cindyasks.
“Don’tyouwantit?Doesn’teveryCinderelladeservethehappilyeverafter?”

“Well,”shesays,resumingherdramaticcharactervoice.“Maybemostprincesseslikethattired,

oldhappilyeverafter,Detective.Butme”—shestopstobatthelashesagain—“Ipreferthe‘tilldeath
douspart’ending,myself.”

Ichuckleatthat.“Youwould.”
“Why,Detective,Idobelieveyou’recallingmeatroublemaker.”
“Iftheshoefits,MissCookie.”
“That’sright,”shesays,placingbothherpalmsflatonmyfaceassheleansuponhertiptoesto

kissmeonthelips.“Theshoedoesfit,Pax.”Herdramaticaccentisgone,andinitsplaceisjust…
her.“I’mCinderella,you’rePrinceCharming.Andnomatterwhathappens,we’llbetogethertillthe
end.”

Shepicksuptwomintjulepsoffasidetableandhandsonetome.Weliftthemintheairandclink

themtogether.“ToMr.andMrs.Mysterious,”shesays.

“Tilldeathdouspart,”Isay.“Tilldeathdouspart.”

WANTTHENEXTBOOK?

Mr.MatchbyJAHuss

GETITHERE

ENDOFBOOKSHIT

WelcometotheEndofBookShitwhereIgettosayanythingIwantaboutthebookyoujustread.

ButbeforeIdothatIhavefourimportantthingstotellyou:

(1)Iamofferingmyfirstseries,Rook&RoninFREE(allthreebooksinoneeBookedition).Get

thedetailsonhowtodownloaditattheendofEOBS.

(2)ThereisaveryspecialfirstlooksneakpeekfortheTurningSeries.ThisisthenextprojectI’m

workingonafterMr.Matchisdone.Sokeepreadingsoyoudon’tmissthat.

(3)Ifyou’rereadingthisduringreleaseweekthere’sagiveawayonmyblog.Ifyou’renotreading

duringreleaseweekandwanttobenotifiedeverytimeIreleaseabooksoyoucangetinonthe
giveaways,linksforbothattheend.

(4)IjustmadethebooktrailerfortheMisterSeriesandyoureally(likereally)needtocheckit

out!(Hot!)

OK.I’mreadynow.

WellhereweareattheendofBookFourandonlyonemoretogo.Ihopeyougotsome

satisfactioninthisone.Ihopeyoudon’thatemeforwhatIdidtoPrincessRory.Ihopeitwasfunto
revisitCindy,Oliver,andArielShrike.(andFive.Hey–didyounoticeFivesaidhehadababysister?
AndSasha’snamecameup!!!)

ForthoseofyouwhohaveneverreadmyRook&RoninandmyDirty,Dark,andDeadlyseries

you’renotmissinganythingbig.CindywassixmonthsoldlasttimewesawherintheHappilyEver
Afterbook.OliverwasfiveandIcan’tevenrememberhowoldArielwas.Possiblyeight.(Ikeepa
cheatsheetforalltheiragesbutIdon’thaveitonmerightnow)

Soifyou’veneverreadanythingelsebyme—noworries.Youdon’thaveto.
I’mnotgoingtosayanythingelseaboutRoryandFivebecauseassomeyoumightknowFiveis

gettinghisbooknextyear.IhaveitonmycalendarforaSeptember2017release.Sowhatever
opinionsyouhaveaboutthatlittletwist,justhangontothemuntilthebookcomesout.Icantellyou
twothingsaboutitnow:

IttakesplacewhileRoryisincollege.(solongbeforeanyofthisMisterstuffhappened)
Fivecomestoseeherforthefirsttimeinfouryears.
Isitasecondchanceromance?Alovetriangle?Amurdermystery?
Youdon’treallyexpectmetotellyou,right?
Hahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahh
;)
ButbacktoMr.Mysterious.He’ssortacutewithhisMotherComplex,andhisweirdjob,andhis

coolhousesandboats.Ifthere’sonethingIwishIcould’veputinhereitwasascenewhereCindy
getstogohomeandseePax’sfamilyfarminKentucky.Ireally(likereally)wantedtowriteaboutthat
farm.Butalas,charactersdon’talwaysaccommodatethewriterthewaywewishtheywould.

Somaybeabonusscenewillcomeupafterallthebooksaredone.Imean…noonehasgotten

marriedyet,right?Well,Nolandid.ButheandIvydidthatontheslyandherfatherisnonetoohappy
aboutit.Sotherehastobeatleastoneweddinginthefuture.MaybePaxwillofferuphisfamilyfarm
fortheceremony.;)

IfIwritethebonusstuffitwon’tbeuntilnextyear.Idon’thavetimetogetitoutin2016.Imean,

it’sfuckingOCTOBER,bombshells!Wherethehelldidthisyeargo??

MinekindagotsweptupinthisseriesandthefartherIgetintothestorythemoreIloveit.WhenI

finishedRookandRonin(afterGuns)Iwassosadbecauseitwasover.IfeltthesameaboutSocial
Media,andDirty,Dark,andDeadly.EspeciallyWastedLustbecausethatwastherealend,right?
Jesus,itwassad.

AndthenIwroteabunchofstandaloneslastyear.Iwrote321,MeetMeinTheDarkandWasted

Lust(sortastandalones,butalsointheR&Rworld).ThenSexy,whichhasnospinoffsatall.Then18
(anothertruestandalone).ThenAnarchyFound,whichisaseriesbutIdidn’twriteanymoreinthat
worldthisyear,soit’sbasicallystandaloneatthemoment.Andthenearlyin2016IwroteRock.

Ilikewritingstandalonebooksbuthonestly,howdoyoureally(likereally)developtheworldand

characters?

Yougetoneshottobuilditupandgiveyourcharactersabackstoryandthenpoof.It’sallgone

andyouhavetobuildanewworldwithnewcharacters.

Idon’tmindbuildingnewworldsandcharactersatall.IthinkI’mprettygoodatit.Butwhenyou

haveaseriesliketheMisters,thenthere’sfivetotalopportunitiestobuildthatworldup.SoIcan
mentionasilverenvelopeinbookoneandithasnomeaningwhatsoever.Imentionitagaininbook
twoandsomereaderswhoknowmemightstarttowonderifthere’ssomethingtothat.Bookthreehas
themscratchingtheirheads.Andnow–boom.

It’sallaboutthesilverenvelopes,people.Allaboutthesilverenvelopes.
Andit’snotevenaboutthemen!Ha!
Whorunstheworld?
Girls.
Duh.
It’sgreattohavealargeworldtoworkwith.Tohaveawholecastofmaincharacters.Igetthis

littlewriter ’srushwhenIneedsomethinginaplot—aredherring,oradiversion,ormaybejust
somerandomcharacterthathastointeractwithoneofthemainsinachapterorscene—andIcan
pulloneoutofanotherbook.Orsometimesevenanotherseries.IdidthatSocialMedia.DamianLi
(Ashleigh’sfatherfromtheFordbooks)stickshisnoseintoVaughnAsher ’sbusinessduringacard
game.

Imeanwhynotusehimagain?Ihavealreadysetuphischaracter,hisbackground,hisbusiness,his

past.Hewastheperfectchoice.

Thisissomethingyoudon’tgetmuchofwritingstandalonebooks.Also,ifyoudon’thavethirty

plusbookswrittentochoosecharacters,orsettingsorleftoverplotsfromotherstoriesit’skindahard
topulloff.

ButI’mlucky.Havealltheseworlds,allthesecharacters,alltheseplaces,allthesestoriesto

choosefrom.SoIlikeusethem.

IusedtobeareallybigStephenKingreaderbackinthedayandhedoesthisespeciallywellinhis

books.IcanrememberreadingoneofthoseDarkTowerbooks(MaybeWizardandGlass—butdon’t
holdmetothat)andsomeonefromanotherbooksuddenlyappearedandIwaslike,Gah!!!!!!!!!!I

knowthatguy!

lol.IsweartoGod,thatwasme.
I’msuretherearesomepeoplewhoreadmybooksbecausetheyenjoythesimplicityofmy

sentences,Ialmostnevertotallyfuckastoryup,andtheyusuallycomeouttheotherendsatisfied.
Right?It’sjustagoodbooktomostpeople.

Butthen…therearethefans.PeoplewhodoscreamGAH!whenFiveshowsup,orOlivershows

up.OrArielorFord’sname.Whatever.

Itrynotto“writeto”anyonegroup.InotherwordsI’mnotaimingforonlyfanswhenIwritea

story.Oronlynewreadersorcasualreaders.Itrytobalanceitout.Iliketogiveyouahintofa
“biggerworld”withoutoverwhelmingyouandIdothatwiththesecoollittle

Stephen-King-esque

call-backs

,whichisaliterarydevicecalledallusion.

Allusioniswheninformationisimplied.Inmostcasesartists,likefilmmakersandauthors,use

allusiontoredirectthewatcherorreadertotheworldoutsidethestory—somethingthatexistsinthe
worldofthereader.Somethingbigorlittle.Sometimesit’snothingbutintellectualminutiausedtopat
alltheotherintellectualsonthebackandassurethemtheyaresmart.

ButImostlyuseitasawaytoredirectreaderstotheoverarchingstorylineofotherbooksI’ve

writtenwherethecharactersorplotmightcross,howeverbriefly.

Ifthereaderdoesn’tunderstandthereferencethenmywordsaremerelydecoration.Ifyouread

WastedLustasastandalone(andyoucan,ifyouwant.Iswear,alltheinformationyouneedforthat
storyisinthere)thenyoumisstheallusionandyouendupwithaverydifferentperspectiveofthe
story.

Somereadersdon’tlikeinternalallusion.Butfansusuallydigit.Sotheallusionisforthefans

evenwhenI’mdoingmybesttowriteforboththereaderandthefan.

Thisbookwaskindahardtowritebecauseofthetimeline.Mysterioushasbeeninallthebooks,

buthehadhugepartsinMr.RomanticandMr.Corporate.He’smuchmorethanasidecharacter.So
whenitcametimetowritehisstoryIwantedtoaccountforallthoseactions.

IfyoupickedupMr.Mysteriousfirstandreadtheseriesoutoforderyoumightbethinking–this

isnotastandalone.Isortofagree—BUT—IdidgiveyoueverythingyouneededtoknowforTHIS
book.SoIconsideritastandalone.Yes,you’remissinginfo,butwhatthefuckcouldIdo?Thatinfo
isallintheotherbooks.Yougetthegistofit,right?Ifyouneeddetailsgobackandreadtheother
Misterbooks.Startfromthebeginningthistime.

Onecoolsideeffect,ifyouwill,ofwritingthiswayisthatthere’salmosttwowaystoreadsomeof

mystories.

TherearelotsofplacestojumpintotheRookandRoninworld.Youcouldstartatthebeginning

withTragicandreadthemallinorder.Inthatcaseyougetalltheallusionandyougetitfedtoyouin
the“standard”order.ButyoucouldalsostartatDirty,Dark,andDeadly—readthosethreebooks,
thengobackandreadRookandRoninandyou’vegonnahavethoseGah!momentswhenyourealize
howtheyconnect.YoucanalsostartwiththeFordbooks.OrMeetMeInTheDark,orWastedLust.
Eachofthosebookscanbeinterpretedtwowaysbecauseoftheallusion.

Somepeopleliketoconnectthedots…somepeopledon’t.Itrytokeepitallbalancedand

hopefullyI’mdoingagoodjob.

Ialsohopepeopledon’tgettoosickofmegoingbackandforthintime.Idon’tusethis“literary

device”lightly.InotherwordsIdon’tdoitjustforthefuckofit.Ionlydoitwhenit’snecessaryto
tellthestoryacertainway.UsuallyI’mhidingsomethingfromyou—Iwriteromanticsuspense,after
all.

ButIremembergettingacomplaintaboutitin321fromsomeone.Theysaidthetimejumpingwas

confusing.Buttheonlytimejumpinginthatbookwasintheprologueandthelastfewchapters.Ifthat

isconfusingIcan’thelppeoplewiththat.Itreallywasn’thardtofollow.Therewasalmostnoallusion
inthatbookatall.It’sastraightstandalone.

BUT…thisbookwassortadifficult.Soifthistimelineconfusesyou,sorry.Itrymybesttokeep

thestoryassimpleaspossiblebutsometimesthisisjusthowtheshitshakesout.

StorycomesfirstandthisstoryrequiredafullaccountingofPaxtonVance’sactionsintheother

booksasitrelatestotheplotinhisbook.

WhenIfirstenvisionedMysterious,whilewritingMr.Perfect,Ireallydidn’tknowwho“hisgirl”

was.IthinkItoldyouthatinthelastEOBSforMr.Corporate.ThatIplotthebookswhenI’mnearing
theendofthepriorbook.ButIfiguredoutCindyShrikewasMrs.MysteriouswhileIwaswritingMr.
Romantic.God,itjustfitintothestorysoperfectly.AndwhileIwaswritingtheendofMysteriousI
wasthinkingaboutFive.BecauseFiveisinthisworldnowandhe’sinanotherworldtoo.Evenmore
sothatOliverandtherestofthisgangbecausehewasbornattheendoftheTautbookandhehadhis
ownepilogueattheendoftheGunsbook.AndIwillsaythisaboutPrincessRory—Iwasn’tsureifI
wantedtomentionheratall.Ifyou’vebeenafanforawhileyouknowI’vebeenpromisingaFive
Bookfortwoyearsnow.Morethantwoyears,actually.Andmyreasonfornotwritingityetwas
becauseIjustdidn’thavetherightstoryfiguredout.

ButitallcametogetherformewhilewritingMr.Mysteriousandthatbookwillbeoutnextyear.
AsfarasOliverShrikegoes…well,IalreadyknowwhoMr.Match’sgirlisandIknowwhatkind

ofguyOliverturnedouttobeafterhiswholeMr.Brownexperience,sowe’regoodtogothere.He’s
adirtymotherfucker,ladies.Sobeprepared.Hisbookgetsepicallyeroticinchapterone.

Twomonths.That’sallyouhavetowait.Justtwomoremonthsandallthemysterieswillbesolved.
Well…sorta.
;)

SorryifIhavetyposisthisEOBS.It’skindalaterightnow.ARCsaregoingouttomorrow

morningandIgottagetthepaperbackformattedbeforebed.SoI’mnotevengonnare-readthis.I’m
justhittingtheGoButton.

(1)AsImentionedatthebeginningoftheEOBS…Iamofferingmyfirstseries,Rook&Ronin

FREE(allthreebooksinoneeBookedition).

GETTHEFREEEDITIONHERE

.

(2)ThereisaveryspecialfirstlooksneakpeekfortheTurningSeries.ThisisthenextprojectI’m

workingonafterMr.Matchisdone.Darkerotica,bitches.IsaidI’dbebackandIam.Sexyasfuck.
Dirtyashell.Betterthan321,Ipromise.

CHECKITOUTHERE

.

(3)Ifyou’rereadingthisduringreleaseweekthere’sagiveawayonmyblog–

ENTERHERE

.If

you’renotreadingduringreleaseweekandwanttobenotifiedeverytimeIreleaseabooksoyoucan
getinonthegiveaways,

JOINHERE

.

(4)IjustmadethebooktrailerfortheMisterSeriesandyoureally(likereally)needtocheckit

out!(Hot!)

SEEITHERE

.

Ifyou’dliketohangoutwithmeonFacebookIhaveaprivatefangroupcalled

ShrikeBikes

.

Justasktojoinandsomeonewillapproveyouassoonastheyseeit.Iaminthatgroupchattingwith
thefanseverysingledayandwehavealotofgiveawaysandfunstuffgoingallthetime.Especially
aroundreleasedays.Iusuallydoatakeoverandgiveawayallkindsofstuffrelatedtothenew

release,socomeonbyandsayhi.

Ifyouenjoyedthisbookpleaseconsiderleavingmeareviewwhereyoupurchasedit.I’mstill

indie.AndthesuccessofeachandeverybookIputoutdependsonreaderslikeyouleavingtheir
thoughtsandopinionsaboutthestoryinareview.

Thankyouforreading,thankyouforreviewing,andI’llseeyouinthenextbook.

Julie
JAHuss

*************
Eachofthetitlesbelowwillbelinkedtothebookonceitgoesliveorisupforpre-order.Soif

you’dlikethenextone,justclickthelinks.Ifit’snotavailableyet,you’llbetakentomywebsite.

Mr.Perfect

Mr.Romantic

Mr.Corporate

Mr.Mysterious

Mr.Match

AbouttheAuthor

JAHuss

istheNewYorkTimesandUSATodaybestsellingauthorofmorethanthirtyromances.

Shelikesstoriesaboutfamily,loyalty,andextraordinarycharacterswhostrugglewithbasichuman
emotionswhiledealingwithbiggerthanlifeproblems.JAloveswritingheroeswhomakeyou
swoon,heroineswhomakesyoujealous,andtheperfectHappilyEverAfterending.

Youcanreadherwritingcraftandmarketingarticles

atherwebsite

andchatwithheron

Facebook

,

Twitter

,andherkick-assromanceblog,

NewAdultAddiction

.Ifyou'reinterestedin

gettingyourhandsonanadvancedreleasecopyofherupcomingbooks,sneakpeekteasers,or
informationonherupcomingpersonalappearances,youcanjoin

hernewsletterlist

andgetthose

detailsdeliveredrighttoyourinbox.

JAHusslivesonadirtroadinColoradothirtyminutesfromthenearestpostoffice.Soifshe

owesyouapackagefromagiveaway,expectittotakeforever.Shehasasmallfarmwithtwo
donkeysnamedParis&Nicole,aringneckparakeetnamedBird,andapackofdogs.Shealsohastwo
grownchildrenwhohaveneverreadanyofherbooksanddonotplanoneverdoingso.Theydo,
however,planonusinghercreditcardsforever.

JAcollectsgunsandlikestoreadsciencefictionandbooksthatmakeherthink.JAHussusedto

writehomeschoolsciencetextbooksunderthenameSimpleSchoolingandafterpublishingmore
than200ofthose,sheranoutofshittosay.ShestartedwritingtheIAmJustJuncosciencefiction
seriesin2012,buthassincefoundthemeaningoflifewritingeroticstoriesaboutantiheromenthat
readerslovetolove.

JAhasanundergraduatedegreeinequinescienceandfullyplannedonbecomingaveterinarian

untilsheheardwhatkindofhourstheykeep,soshedecidedtogotogradschoolandgotamaster ’s
degreeinForensicToxicology.Beforeshewasafull-timewritershewassmellinghogfarmsforthe
stateofColorado.

EventhoughJAisknowntobetestyandsomewhatofabitch,shelovesher#fansdearlyandif

youwanttotalktoher,joinherFacebookfangroupwhereshepostsdailybullshitaboutbullshit.

Ifyouthinkshe’skiddingaboutthiscrazyautobiography,youdon’tknowherverywell.

SEEALLHERBOOKSHERE