Page 57 of Filthy Little Games

“No. Not on this floor. Too risky to go up right now.” He glances toward the receiving rooms at the front of the house, all the people coming and going.

“Another time,” I agree with a nod. “Let’s find Dre. We’re getting out of here as soon as we finish dinner.”

We find Dre in another sitting room, talking to Stella. We’re just in time to watch the show. She starts to walk away from him. Dre says something too soft to hear in the same moment he grabs her wrists. “Don’t fucking touch me!” she yells as she lifts herother hand holding a full glass of red wine and throws it right in his face.

There are several hushed gasps from the other guests while I try to hold in my laugh. Tristan turns his back to the room as he chuckles quietly into his fist.

A moment later, Emilio storms into the room, grabs Stella by her arm, and drags her away while apologizing to Dre.

My cousin’s face is so red underneath the wine that he looks like he might explode. A passing waiter carrying a tray of appetizers offers him a cloth napkin. Dre mops off his face, muttering what I have no doubt is a slew of swears. When he sees me and Tristan in the crowd, I tip my chin toward the hallway.

Once the three of us are alone, Dre continues swearing under his breath while wiping his neck where the crimson liquid drips onto his white shirt collar.

“What the fuck did you say to her?” I ask him.

“Nothing! I told her I was sorry her brother was missing and wanted to know if she was okay.”

“Wow,” Tristan remarks. “She really does hate you.”

“No shit,” Dre mutters while glaring at me.

“Too fucking bad. I told Emilio you agreed to the wedding, and he wants it to happen before the end of the year.”

“Before the...that’s only five months away!”

“Best get your bachelorhood shit out of your system fast because you’re about to be a married man,” I warn him. “And I get the feeling that Stella wouldn’t put up with a wandering eye.”

“You are so fucked,” Tristan tells him with a bark of laughter.

18

Zara

Sitting in the penthouse with a silent Lorenzo watching me like a hawk is awkward.

The only time he’d moved was to accept a small package delivery from the doorman. That’s when I got up and asked him if he wanted some of the Caesar salad already prepared and ready in the fridge, but he declined.

Once I eat, I return to the living room to continue watching reruns ofBones. One of Lorenzo’s legs is propped on his knee. His arm is stretched across the back of the sofa several feet away from me, and his body is turned to watch me instead of the flatscreen.

After two more episodes, I’ve had enough. “Are you staring at me because you think I’ll suddenly vanish or is there something on your mind, Lorenzo?”

“There’s something on my mind,” he replies without even denying his creepiness.

“Oh yeah? What’s that? Are you wondering why Creed married me after you pretended to be happy for him yesterday?”

The Lorenzo I first met seemed easy-going and like a sort of father figure to Creed. It must have been an act on his part.

“No. It’s obvious why you two got married.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. Love at first sight. I’m not doubting that for a second. It happens and can’t be helped.”

“Love at first sight?” I repeat. “You’re exactly right.” There is no love on either side of this marriage. “So, if you’ve got me and Creed’s relationship all figured out, then what’s up? Why have you been staring at me for hours? It’s starting to creep me out.”

“Ever since I heard Izaiah Rovina was missing this morning, I’ve been thinking how odd it is for him to disappear on the same night that you came home with Creed for the very first time, wearing nothing but his jacket — according to Dre and Tristan.”

“Okay.” I guess Creed still hasn’t told anyone about the murder, even his closest friends. And I’m not about to spill the beans either. I like having this secret with my husband and him alone.

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