Page 98 of Thorns of Malice

Me: What do you mean?

Matt: They always threaten to send it to him. At least now I can stop worrying about it.

My gut dives, and I feel sicker.

Me: I really am sorry. If there's anything I can do...

I don't finish the message and send it.

Matt: It's fine. At least the whole world doesn't know it's me. My father can still hold his head high and walk around town and the country club.

I bite my lips, staring at the message.

Matt: Make sure you get out of there soon. Nothing good can come of that place or those people.

I don't respond, knowing he's right. Then I get up and get ready. I spend the day keeping to myself, ensuring I stay far away from the main house, ignoring any attempted communication from Dax.

When nighttime finally comes, I slide into his Porsche and take off. I pull up to the Harbor Inn.

The valet approaches me and opens the door. "Are you a guest or visiting?"

"Just visiting," I state.

He writes out a ticket and hands it to me. "No problem. Just call the number when you're on your way out."

"Okay, thank you," I reply, my stomach filling with nerves.

I'm just as clueless now as I was the day before. I don't know where Lilly stands in all this, but she seemed to have wanted to talk to me, and it makes me nervous. But I have to find out why she came back here after all these years and what her role was the night everything happened between us.

I get in the elevator and go up to the eighth floor. When the doors open, my stomach flips. I take a deep breath, step out, and find her room number. I knock on the door.

She opens it, wearing a black cocktail dress and holding a glass of champagne in her hand. She beams at me. "Ivy, come on in." She steps back.

I hesitate.

"Come in! I'm not going to bite you," she claims, then giggles.

I relax. It's the Lilly I know. The one I considered my friend, who I hope always was and still will be. And maybe I'm crazy even considering the thought that she's not as bad as the rest of them, but I want her not to be.

I step inside and shut the door.

She hands me a glass of champagne.

I reach for it and then stop.

She says in a sharp voice, "I didn't drug you. I would never do that now, nor would I have back then."

"Oh, I didn't mean?—"

"It's okay. If I were in your position, I'd think the same thing, but I can assure you I didn't have any part of their twisted shit."

I don't know why I believe her, but I do. Maybe I'm being naive again. Perhaps I'm still gullible. But I take the glass of champagne and sip it.

"Let's go sit down," she says, leading me into her suite.

We sit on the couch and turn toward each other.

She puts her hand on mine. "How've you been all these years, Ivy?"

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