Page 12 of Picture Perfect

"His pretty little girlfriend won't know what hit her."

"Is she still his girlfriend?" I ask. "He's been seen around with Cecily today. A lot."

"I'm not sure they're really even dating," Saint shrugs. "Everyone knows their fathers do business. Marrying into the Winthrop name is part of that. She's a dealmaker."

I bristle, not liking the sound of that. "So she's a business move."

Saint raises an eyebrow at me. "You of all people know how these games are played. The Montgomerys have money, a fuckton of it, but their power is limited to what money can buy."

"Which is a lot, let's be real."

"The Winthrops on the other hand..." Saint trails off.

I know what he's going to say. The Winthrops are a powerful and influential family with connections in all the right places. They're movers and shakers, while the Montgomerys are just...rich.

"So she's Preston's no matter what that shit does." I conclude.

Dre scoffs. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

I turn to him, eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean?"

He smiles wickedly. "Let's just say I may have had a little chat with Preston and his princess at the ball."

"And?" I ask cautiously.

Dre shrugs nonchalantly. "His precious Ice Princess isn't as unfeeling as she portrays herself to be."

My blood boils at the thought of anyone hurting Adelaide. But then again, Dre seems thrilled by it.

"How would you even know that?" Saint asks skeptically.

"Let's just say I got a taste of her at the ball," he continues smugly, "and let me tell you, she might hide her emotions well but she couldn't hide the dilation of her pupils when I touched her."

My jaw drops. Saint tenses beside me.

"You touched her?" he growls slowly.

Dre doesn't seem fazed by our reactions; if anything, he seems pleased by them.

"Then the games have already begun," Saint says, pushing my open laptop toward me. "Let's get started."

"Fear not, gentlemen, your genius has arrived," I proclaim, spinning into an office chair. "Now let's cause some mischief! Who are we hacking today?"

"The Ice Princess."

I falter, the arm of my chair smacking into the desk with a loud bang.

"She...she doesn't use our app."

We'd been smart when we started this joint business venture of ours. Laid the foundation, took precautions. I'd coded an app. One that served as the primary means of communication between us and our clients. It protected us.

But, we'd taken it a step—or ten—further.

You see, within that app, there was a section outlining our terms and conditions. And, within this section, there was also some fine print about granting us access to their devices.

All of them.

Not our fault no one ever bothers to read the fine print.

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