Page 70 of Addicted Lies

“Wow. I didn’t know you two could play the piano. That’s amazing!” Jewel says.

“We all have our own talents, wouldn’t you say, wife?” Eli gives her a pointed glare, probably referring to her ability with a gun. I didn’t know Jewel was a hitwoman when I first met her, but after I found out, it made so much sense as to why she always kicked our ass when we played shooting games on Eli’s gaming console. Come to think of it, that’s something we haven’t done in some time now.

“Matthew,” Eli says, holding out his hand. “I’m actually surprised you got the approval for a second date.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Fuck this family and them giving me so much shit for having an overprotective dickhead for a brother. It’s not like I asked for that.

The men in my family are assholes.

“So it would seem,” Matthew interjects.

Jewel tries to save me from the humiliation and overdose of testosterone by changing the subject. “Oh, Ivy told me you got a tattoo. Did it hurt?” Every pair of eyes flicks from Jewel to me.

“Her heart one?” Matthew says, and Ford’s posture noticeably stiffens.

“You got a tattoo, little tornado? Dang, I knew you were a badass,” Hawke jokes.

“Do your parents know?” Eli asks, and I see the moment Jewel understands it was meant to be a secret.

“Let’s go get a drink, Eli,” she says, then leans forward and touches my arm as she whispers, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t say anything to your brother.” I nod as she straightens and pulls Eli away.

Hawke continues to stare at me with approval, and Ford basically glares at Matthew.

“You know about her tattoo?” Ford asks Matthew, and I’m certain he’s about to kill him.

Matthew looks down at me and smiles, unaware of the train wreck that’s most likely about to happen.

“I do,” he replies, and I can feel the lethal aura come off Ford in waves.

He is beyond pissed.

I step in front of Matthew as if shielding him from Ford, who at any point might snap.

“Ford does tattoos. You should have had him do it.” Hawke smacks him on the back, and it’s then Ford relaxes his hands, which were bunched up into fists.

“That’s cool. Do you do it professionally?” Matthew asks him, having no idea how mad Ford is right now. Hawke seems to notice, though and smacks him on the back again.

I glance down at my drink and make the executive decision to just down the entire fucking thing. Because the situation is so fucking awkward. And to make it even worse, Anya and River come over and flank their sons, staring at us. This usually wouldn’t be a problem, but Anya hates new people. I’m pretty sure she even hated me when I was a child. Fuck, she probably still hates me. But I think that’s just her personality. She doesn’t even seem to soften much around the twins, but we all know that if anyone hurt her children, she would be the first one to slit their throats.

“And who are you?” Anya asks Matthew, and I wonder how attuned she is to her son’s emotions. Did they walk over here because they could sense the killer intent rolling off Ford?

“Mother, would you like a drink?” Hawke asks as if trying to find any excuse to lead her away. It’s well known that Anya doesn’t drink alcohol. Anya ignores Hawke, giving Ford a quick once-over before she pins me with a stare.

“Yes, a drink. Billie will take me to the bar, won’t you?” she says without so much as a smile. Most people don’t say no to Anya Ivanov, and for good reason. She doesn’t even wait for me to answer as she steps away from the group and expects me to follow. I do precisely that because I value my fucking life.

Her long, red nails tap on the bar impatiently as I move to stand beside her. She’s a regal woman who barely looks any older than a woman half her age, and she’s terrifying. She turns to me, a scowl on her face. Her Russian accent comes out thicker than normal when she asks, “What’s going on with you and my son?”

I feel the blood drain from my face. “Excuse me?”

She waves her perfectly manicured hand.

“Don’t deny it. I know my sons well enough to tell when they’re acting abnormally… well, more abnormally than usual.” It’s great to know she’s aware that her kids aren’t totally sane. “I know Ford. I watched him practice piano religiously for a year, mastering it like so many other things, but I never understood why until now. The way he was back there is not like him. So, tell me, what is going on with you two?”

My mouth opens and then closes. Is she implying that Ford learned how to play piano because of me? But that would mean he felt something for me years before we ever hooked up. And I certainly didn’t suspect his mother, of all people, to catch on to our addictive lies.

I glance over my shoulder at where they’re all still standing, my eyes widening when I see Ford.

He’s a beautiful savage.

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