Page 87 of Deceit

“Again,” he repeats with venom in his tone. “You don’t know what you saw. So shut the fuck up, Emmy.”

“Does Daddy know?” Adler’s hand shoots out to grab my forearm, but when he does, I turn the tables and flip my limb to dig my nails into his. “Touch me again, you sick prick, and I’ll spill your little secret all over town. The only reason why I didn’t before is because I didn’t want to hurt Dad.”

“Release me,” he orders sternly. “You don’t have the stomach for it.” My smile widens, and I let him go, allowing my threat to simmer as he strides away.

Unfortunately, he also leaves his familiar and expensive aftershave lingering.

“Well, he sounds like a douchebag, Lou Boo.” Only one person in this entire universe calls me that, and he just made this whole night manageable.

Turning around, Mills stands behind me with a glass of clear liquid and looking handsome as shit in a white dress shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top and folded up his forearms. His black slacks and shoes make him look like he just threw it on, but Mills appears like a GQ model that any one of these bitches would eat up.

His grayish blue eyes follow my brother, watching him as if looking to make sure he doesn’t come back before returning to me, where I receive an award-winning smile.

“Happy Birthday, Ems.” I close the space between us and wrap my arms around him in a hug. Thanking God for giving me a small piece of relief from the physical pain of whatever is going to happen tonight.

“Why are you here?” I mutter into his chest, smelling his mint and cedarwood cologne before stepping away and peering up at him.

“You told me you came home alone, and I remember once you telling me how much you hated it here. I didn’t want you to spend your day like shit.” He furrows his brows. “Why did you come?”

I give a noncommittal shrug of my shoulders, not wanting to provide him with the whole truth. Bishop would never follow me here, and I needed my brain to rest from everything he said to me.

“My mom has been bugging the shit out of me for months about this party. Not that it’s really for me or anything. I hardly know anyone here.”

“She’s been bugging the shit out of you for years,” he counters with a lopsided smile. “So you decided to come on your birthday, of all times?”

I shake my head. “No, I wanted to check out this Hampton party for that Willy Wonka character.”

Mills frowns. “Didn’t Bishop tell you to lay off going on solo missions?”

I cock my head to the side. The boys arealwaystalking about me and my interests behind my back. “How the hell would you know?”

Mills mocks my actions and throws up a brow for good measure. “Whywouldn’tI know? We’re a team.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“But show up,” he deadpans, not buying a word of what I was saying even though it was true.

Have I been known to go off the mapped-out plan, sure, but I don’t do it all the time like they do.

“Yeah, I just wanted to vibe him out.”

Mills eyes me. “Sure…well, good thing I brought the crew with me then.”

“The what?”

Oh, I know what he means. I just don’t believe it. The Hamptons aren’t really my second fam’s style as much as it’s mine.

Mills rearranges his body, stepping to the side to give me a clear view of the fully stocked bar on the sidewall. And there, like the unconventional and out-of-place group they are, stands Blue, Marty, Kyson, and Bishop—staring dead at me with drinks in their hands.

All of them dressed casually in jeans—which I don’t give a shit about, but my mother is going to croak from a heart attack with her rule on formal attire.

Oops.

Mills waves them over, and I watch them study my childhood home without an ounce of awe or excitement as they approach.

Killing and adrenaline are what’s invigorating.

Fancy parties, not so much.

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