Page 63 of A Conflict of Interest

“I’d miss you if you did die, so I won’t fuck you to death this time.”

Felt like we got close, though, honestly—the way Veronica took me until it felt like she held every atom in my body ona string and I would come undone at the slightest bit of her will, like I was an elegant ribbon tied around a package and her touch undid the bow at the top and had me completely collapse, spooling soft and helpless under her touch.

She took a shower first once we were done, because even with the time to cuddle and laugh over nothing together, I needed three to five business days for my legs to work normally again. I kind of didn’t want my body to work normally again, though. Wanted to just go blissfully from one time to the next of Veronica lovingly, adoringly ravaging every part of my body.

And letting me ravage hers! We were all about equal opportunity, after all.

∞∞∞

Showing up to the Preston family house in separate cars at least let us maintain some semblance of plausible deniability, me showing up ten minutes after Veronica did, pulling into a crowded front courtyard where I could already hear the commotion and excitement from inside, Veronica’s grandmother’s Christmas music blaring loud enough to rattle my teeth out just like I remembered. The hottest Miami EDM nights couldn’t hold a candle to DJ Grandma. Luckily, I knew every single family member would take turns turning the volume down one or two percent at a time and fix the music over the course of the night.

Plausible deniability could only do so much, though, because I hadn’t even gotten up to the door before it swung open and Veronica’s dad leaned out, putting a hand up in a wave. “Kelcey Huntington, how you doing,” he called loud enougheveryone in the neighborhood could hear. “Your girlfriend’s waiting for you inside.”

He was cheerful. He’d always been nice, if a bit… off in his own world, so I wasn’t really expecting him to be here zeroing in on, uh, things. I guess sleeping with his daughter’s client’s wife picked him up a little. Was that weird? Probably not.

“Hi, Mr. Preston,” I said, and he laughed, waving me off like we were old best friends.

“C’mon,” he chuckled. “Don’t be a stranger. You can just call me Heath. It’s a party, for god’s sake. Now, come on in and get nogged up.”

“Um… Veronica and I are both girls, we can’t really do that…”

But he ignored me, stepping back inside and gesturing me in with him, turning to where I spotted Matthew Gould’s moustache before anything else. “Matthew, fetch the eggnog, would you? We’ve got a desperate need of some holiday spirit.”

Oh,noggedup, notknockedup. I thought that was a weird thing to say to your daughter’s girlfriend. I was worried I’d just been misreading the situation.

Not that I was her girlfriend anyway. But that line was getting blurrier by the minute. I guess if I was trying to maintain plausible deniability, I shouldn’t have implied Veronica and I were having so much sex we’d get pregnant if one of us had the equipment…

He’d forget. Too distracted with his arrangement.

The party was absolutely in full swing, and I had a dozen people mob me basically as soon as I got in the door, one after the other, people gushing to me about how nice it was to see me again after so long andsubtlytalking about how happy Veronica was now. Very subtly.

Mostly, though, it was just… nice. Being around a whole bunch of people who were happy to see me just because I wasme. Granted, it was also because they thought I was walking the aisle tomorrow with Veronica, but… well, they could think what they wanted. Either way, I walked into the sprawling space of the living room, and my eyes were drawn right away to Veronica, wearing that shimmery silver dress she’d been wearing the first time we met, and—given how thoroughly unromantic that night had been, starting off with PDA at a party and getting me off under a table and ending with her keeping my underwear when I went home afterwards, it was funny how breathtakingly romantic it felt. A new beginning. A chance for us to do it right this time.

I raised my hand with my heart pounding to say something, catch her attention, but another voice cut in with, “Oh, look at the way you look at her. Makes me sick. You’re a lovely young lady, you’re wasted on her.”

I turned with my hands on my hips to where Lucy’s grandmother Charlotte, a permanent fixture around all the Preston events, wheeled her way towards me with a scowl that seemed slightly tempered by the glass of eggnog. “Miss Charlotte,” I said. “Veronica iswonderful.She’s beautiful and perfect and, um… a great, uh, friend.”

“Pah. I hear you’re a good cook and everything. You don’t have to settle for Veronica.”

I scowled. “Iscookingyour only metric?”

“Of course not. There’s also cleaning.”

Well, at least she wanted a woman to also have a subjugated housewife. Equal opportunity misogyny, I guess. “Well, Veronica and I are great friends, so I’m going to go and say hello to her, but, um… it’s nice to see you, Miss Charlotte!”

“Pah. It is not.” She knocked back eggnog like a hardened gangster taking a moody shot of whiskey in a mafia movie, and she wheeled away. The self-awareness was actually a little endearing in its way, I guess.

Either way, I felt Veronica’s eyes on me like the two of us were the only ones who existed, and when I looked back towards her, I met her gaze, deep brown eyes locking on mine and wiping out the rest of the room, not a person, not a sound…

Well, a little sound. That music was loud.

I glided towards her like we were in a dream, and I squeezed her hand before I could rethink it. “Hey, you,” I said, and she smiled wider.

“Miss Huntington,” she said. “A pleasure. You look enchanting tonight.”

“Uh, hello. Look who’s talking,” I laughed, gesturing to her dress and stunning heels, but I caught myself, standing up taller. “Or… we’re being polite, of course. Pardon me, for I forget my manners. You’re a sight to see, yourself, Miss Preston.”

She smiled wider. “You flatter me, darling. And tell me, did the crotchety old lady insult you just now?”

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