Page 48 of Scattered Glitter

Koen’s voice is hard as he cuts in. “You know this isn’t about you.” I glance at him, and his expression darkens. “This is about getting justice for Oscar. You, more than anyone, should understand that.”

Of course I do, but it doesn’t make this any easier. I push back from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, and Jinx jumps off my lap. “Find someone else. I’m not doing it.”

“Ric—” Koen starts, but I cut him off with a slap on the table that emphasizes my parting word.

“No.”

Without waiting for a response, I leave the kitchen, and even though I can feel their eyes on me, I don’t look back.

They want me to hand over everything I’ve worked for to some girl who’ll never be good enough anyway?

Not a chance.

They can kick me out if they’re done with me.

I’m not going to help them replace me.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Novalee

Why the hell am I even here?

I take a long drag from the cigarette pinched between my fingers, watching the black exterior of the Lane Building shimmer under the afternoon sun. It’s located next to the two biggest hotels in Vegas, the Harrington Heights and the Belmont Plaza. I drive past it almost every day when my Uber brings me to work and back home, and yet, until now, I’ve never had a reason to set foot inside.

And I could keep it that way. Just turn around and leave, pretend none of this ever happened. It’s not like they can stop me. Well, maybe they can if Koen pulls that hypnotist shit on me again, or they call the police after all.

Goddammit.

I take another pull from the cigarette, then exhale a cloud of smoke drifting into the city’s thick air. Koen told me to come sober, but my nerves got the better of me, so I had a small sip of whiskey first—small for me, anyway.

Annabelle still hasn’t shown up again, and neither has Good Lookin’, so I was without any good distractions the rest oflast night and this morning with nothing to do but think about what the fuck I’ve gotten myself into.

I should have kept my sticky fingers to myself.

But that’s not something I’m good with, anyway.

I sigh, glancing down the sidewalk, half-expecting some cosmic sign to tell me I should bail. It almost feels as if the universe is holding its breath, waiting, as I take one last drag, then flick the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under my boot. “Fuck it.”

Whoosh. The glass doors glide open, and I freeze, my heart thudding in the sudden silence. The doors hang open, revealing nothing but shadows beyond—my pulse quickens.

What the hell?

Just as my feet consider resuming their halfhearted retreat, Koen steps out, looking hot as hell in all black, emerging like he’d been waiting for my moment of hesitation.

“You’re late,” he says smoothly, nodding for me to follow. “Come on in, Little Thief.”

I hesitate, feeling that tug of reluctance coil tighter in my chest as I follow him inside. The air in the lobby is cool, sterile even, and everything about this place screams money, power, andmagic.

The Lane Building has been closed for the last three months due to Oscar Lane’s death, so at least we’re the only ones here. Koen locks the doors from inside and leads me through a series of hallways, and I have to hustle to keep up with how quickly we’re moving.

As we walk, I study him from the side—the way his wavy brown hair falls to his shoulders, the carefully kept beard framing his jawline, those dark brown eyes that are so hard to read, and that perfect nose.

He has a pretty face—a dangerously pretty one.

Practically begging for someone to sit on it.

My mind wanders to just how nice it would be to ride said pretty face.

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