Page 82 of Victorious Vice

“No. You know they’re not.”

“Then they’re coming from someone else who’s watching out for me.” I twitch my eyebrows up. “You have my back. My father and brothers have my back. In his way, Vinnie has my back. But you’re forgetting one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Ihave my back, Jared. I’m not helpless. For God’s sake, you and I both know that I have the best security system on theplanet in my home. I’m not going back to that safe house, and I’m not going to stay at my parents’ house either.”

He sighs. “Let me make a phone call.”

I finally put down the knife. He heaves a sigh of relief.

“Don’t make a phone call. It doesn’t matter what anyone else tells you to do. You’remybodyguard, and I want to go back to my home.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He reaches into his pocket. “But it’s going to take a phone call.”

“Jesus Christ.” I whisk past him out of the kitchen and head into the bathroom. My dress is a wrinkled mess, and my hair… Well, my hair is so short it can hardly be messed up.

My makeup still looks good.

I take care of business quickly, and then, while Jared’s on the phone, I walk to my bedroom.

My bedroom where Brick Latham’s body was found, his throat slit.

I wonder if his throat was slit using the knife I just had against my own throat.

Probably not.

Whoever did it didn’t leave any evidence.

And that is odd in itself.

But my father and the police took care of it, and I trust them without question.

I walk back to the kitchen where Jared is finishing up his phone call.

“Yes, sir. I’ll do that.”

“You’ll do what?” I ask.

“We have to wait here. For your father. And Mr. Gallo.”

28

VINNIE

Bellamy’s phone buzzes.

“I have to take this,” he says. He walks away from me, back toward the ballroom.

I follow him. The hotel staff is cleaning up. The chandeliers have been dimmed and the silk tablecloths have been stripped away to reveal bare wooden surfaces.

Bellamy, still on his phone, paces. His dark eyes are distracted.

A waiter trudges by with an almost empty champagne tray and I take a flute. The bubbly liquid feels strange in my mouth, cold and flat. Kind of the way I’m feeling at the moment.

Bellamy ends his call and walks toward me. “We’ll talk in the car. It’s nearly an hour drive to my house.”

“Why would I be going to your house?”

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