Page 60 of Dance with the Devil

She shrugs. “Hey. You and Cross saved my cat. Least I can do is help play matchmaker.”

I’ve been avoidingChristopher for weeks. He wanted to give me space. And yet, when I pick up my phone and send him the first text since we went radio silence, it isn’t ten seconds before he replies.

Hey. It’s been a while, but you busy tonight?

Not at all. Your brother’s had me doing paperwork for ages. I’d love an excuse to forget it for a couple of hours.

Why? You need to get some fresh air?

That’s how I used to phrase it. When my bedroom got too stifling, and I thought that I’d scream if I spent another minute in my studio, staring at a hundred Genevieve’s looking back at me, I would tell him I needed air, and he’d be waiting from me at the corner of our street in no time—just like Cross used to do.

Just like Crossstilldoes.

I haven’t given up on him yet. And, sure, I can call it closure all I want, but we have something. Something solid. I don’t care that he walked away after Damien talked to him. I wouldn’t put it past my overprotective brother to try and convince Cross that I’d be better off without him.

But Cross? He should’ve known better.

I’m basing what I do next on nearly twenty years of friendship. Hoping that I can still rely on Christopher to put me first when it matters, I send him another message.

Savannah thinks I should.

I hope he understands that, at least tonight, I have my sister-in-law backing me on this. Considering Damien might not get too pussy if he realizes that the two most important people in his life outvoted him, that should make Christopher feel a little better about bringing me back to the Devil’s Playground where this all started.

I can be there in ten. Should I park in the usual spot?

I think about it for a second.

And then I smile.

Cross should’ve known better, but so should Damien. I’ve never been the perfect mafia princess, easy to control, no matter who I pretended—or what Damien deluded himself into believing.

I stayed in the manor like a good girl for too long. It’s time for this butterfly to break free.

Nope. I’ll meet you at the front gate.

I toss my phone onto the bed. Christopher will be here in no time.

I have to get ready to bait Cross da Silva.

Because one way or another? I’ll know exactly where we stand after tonight.

TWENTY-ONE

MINE

CROSS

Imight’ve avoided Rolls McIntyre—and the Playground itself—since his impromptu visit to my setup in the back offices, but my oldest friend will still look out for me no matter what.

You know how I know? Because Genevieve isn’t in the Devil’s Playground more than ten minutes before one of the Sinners out on a night off recognizes her as Damien’s sister and immediately tags Rolls. Knowing that her connection to me is infinitely more important, he called me right away to let me know.

He told me what she was wearing: a black-and-white mesh type over her bra, a black booty shorts, black boots. When he added that she had dyed part of her hair pink, I thought he was screwing with me. That sounded so unlike my butterfly, I wondered if she had a secret twin, just like Jimmy Winter did.

And then he sent me a fuzzy camera phone pic. The neons and flashing lights in the Playground made it hard to make out details, but that was undeniably Genevieve.

Fifteen minutes after I got the text, I’ve parked my bike and stalked into the nightclub, searching for her. It doesn’t take long. Very few people inside have the inherent grace that Genevievedoes, and I spot her in the middle of the dance floor almost immediately.

She’s not alone.

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