Page 47 of Vicious Sentiments

She quietly claps and then shakes the sand out of her jacket. “We did it. We’re super stealthy.”

I clamp my mouth shut to stop from smiling. It did feel kind of stealthy, even if I’m pretty sure I ruined the expensive Bella Luna pajamas.

“Almost there.” She turns me around and reclaims her grip on the back of my jacket.

We come up to a similar set of stone steps like Margo’s, and I usher Marney in front of me, feeling protective of leaving her behind me, exposed to the dark beach.

“Are you sure there are no cameras?” I whisper, eyeing all the edges of the glass mansion.

“Positive.” She grabs my hand and pulls me up the stairs at breakneck speed.

The deck is nice, with patio furniture and cold heaters but it’s level with the other homes, and I find myself pulling my hood lower like an actual thief.

“This way.” Marney pulls me around to french doors lined in cool black metal. There’s a matching handle with a lock that makes my skin heat.

“Keys.” She puts a hand out, and shakily I pull them out, giving them over as if getting rid of them will exonerate me in court.

Without hesitation, she slips one in and turns. The sound of the deadbolt opening is like the sound of a jail door slamming shut.

My heart is hammering as she opens the door and pulls me inside, clicking it closed behind us.

“Piece of cake!” she exclaims, her voice returning to a normal level and she skips over to a light switch.

I’m gripping my chest, gaping around the sleeping kitchen we’ve burgled our way into. It’s all black marble with stone gray cabinets and white geometric back splash. There’s three laptops stacked on the counter and a bundle of chargers next to them.

“Catch!” Marney tosses the keys at me and I’m pulled out of my head, stumbling to grab them before they hit me in the face. “I’m going to the tanning bed,” she says.

“Maybe…” I clear my throat, trying to get a grip. “Maybe youshouldn’t. Margo’s right about the sun damage and isn’t she going to notice if you are tanner?”

She shrugs, and I regret what I’ve done. But one time isn’t going to hurt her, right? God, I’m stupid.

Marney prances off down a dark hall, and I’m left by myself in the pristine kitchen. After a moment of getting my breathing under control, I run a hand over the cold counter. I imagine Julian making coffee by himself but then I’m assaulted by images of him not alone, having sex with a beautiful woman, their naked ass planted on the counter, and I jerk my hand back.

He may say I’m his, but is he mine? It puts a bad taste in my mouth and I suddenly want to find out if I even want him to be mine. A nosy bit of indignation slithers inside me and I find myself pulling open a drawer. And then another, followed by a third.

It’s all just kitchen utensils and pens.

I’m drawn down a hallway, bold enough to flick on the lights as I go. When I find the bedroom though, I hesitate in the threshold. Do I want to encroach on Julian’s privacy? A privacy he so graciously offered me? But then again, if he’s going to claim me, don’t I have a right to know if he’s keeping anything from me? At least to protect myself?

I step inside. The room is everything you would expect a single rich guy’s room to be. Navy sheets, sleek furniture, a seventy inch TV mounted above a dresser, but then I look up and see the beveled mirror above the bed. A salacious thought runs through my mind but then I narrow my eyes at it, suspicious of other women’s reflections in it.

I pick through all the drawers and then snort when I come across one with underwear. A mix of some being neatly folded and others tossed in recklessly. Best of both worlds? I sift for a second more but don’t find anything.

In the nightstand are condoms—of course—and it fuels me into what I assume is Julian’s office. I’m about to give up, not being able to make heads or tails of business expenditures and stock projections. Until I pull open the bottom drawer with a file name I can make sense of.

CONFIDENTIAL PROPERTY OF THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATIONS

My fingers still, but then my curiosity gets the better of me. The folder has a few blank pages before my eyes land on familiar names.

Julian Rossi

Caperson Rossi

Dillon Matthews

Marney Matthews

Margaret Baker

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