Page 9 of Addicted Lies

Hawke shoves me and takes a step back. “Fuck, Ford.” He runs his hand through his jet-black hair. “When did it start?”

I curl my hand around the box of cookies. “About six months ago.” His jaw drops. “It’s nothing serious.”

“How the fuck have you kept this from Dutton?” he demands.

“She only comes around when he’s out of town. Besides, he was never looking. He’s been preoccupied with his own shit.” I jut my chin in the direction where I can hear everyone clapping.

Hawke peers out the window and then throws his hands up in the air. “Dutton’s down on one fucking knee. What the fuck is happening around this place? First Eli and now Dutton.” He turns on me. “Don’t start getting ideas. It’s you and me. You know we’re incapable of that shit.” He grabs the back of my head and brings our foreheads together. “If Eli finds out, think about how this might affect him.”

My fingers curl into my palm. Does Hawke think I haven’t considered that? That I don’t know the chaos it might cause? I’ve devoted myself to Eli and the Italian mafia. And that reminder makes it that much harder. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

Hawke sighs as if he understands. “If it’s just sex, find someone else. It ends here and now, okay?”

I nod. Killing is the only thing I’m good at. The only thing I’m useful for. And Hawke fucking loves it. We’d survive if Eli decided to cast us off due to my indiscretion. We’ve always been survivors. Hell, we could probably take over our mother’s business. But I don’t want to be the reason for any of that. I don’t want to let down Hawke again because of my impulses.

“Understood,” I say, and he lets out a breath and straightens. He then notices the box in my hand and points to it.

“She baked me cookies,” I admit.

He rolls his eyes and snatches the box from me. “You’re not eating her fucking baked goods if it’s only sex.”

Within seconds, I have him pinned against the pantry, his shirt fisted in my grip. “You can comment about my shitty choices, but you don’t get to dictate when I can and can’t eat my cookies.”

He’s pissed, and despite being bigger than me, I’ve always been faster than him. Although we’ve never truly gone blow for blow, we both know it’d be pretty fucking even. And the one thing he knows not to fuck with me over is my sweets, more specifically, one’s she baked for me.

“For fuck’s sake, why do I only get anything out of you when it comes to food?” he growls and hands the box back to me. I back up, my temper quickly receding as my stomach simmers contently.

“I’m going to congratulate the happy couple. And I mean it—you two are done,” he says.

I run a hand through my hair, knowing too well he’s right. We got off by sheer chance this time, but it was too fucking close. I’d become reckless. I open the box and then bite into the first cookie, immediately satisfied by the sugar hit.

And I’m not at all surprised when my phone buzzes with an unknown number.

Unknown Number:I’m sorry I freaked out. But we have to stop. I’m sorry.

My jaw clenches, and I have no right to be annoyed by it. It was only ever sex.

I just didn’t think it would impact me like this.

CHAPTER 4

Billie

Two months ago

It’s our Sunday family dinner, and I have a pleasant buzz going after downing my first drink until Hawke and Ford walk in.

I haven’t seen Ford since that day at Dutton’s house. After Bentley’s birthday party and Dutton proposing to Posie, I’ve tried my hardest to fly under the radar. This is the first time I’ve been home in months, and I didn’t realize my mother had extended the invitation to so many. But it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

It might not be so distracting if Hope and Ivy had come back to Manhattan as well. They’re both busy with their own studies, and Hope is at a showing of her sculptures in Russia. The girl is crushing it for only being twenty-two. I’m almost two years older, and still unsure if the degree I’m going to school for even makes my heart sing.

I didn’t start college until I was twenty because I wasn’t sure it was the correct path for me, so I traveled instead. My family was supportive of my choice, but I realized the expectations placed on Dutton weren’t the same as me. Then again, Dutton defined his own path and self-expectations as to how he’d contribute to the family.

Sometimes I feel guilty for not doing the same, even though our parents reminded us time and time again we could choose whatever path we wanted. And I’m still not entirely sure if accounting is what I want. Sometimes, I think I’d prefer baking, like my mother, since I’m good at it, but even then, I don’t know if it excites me as much as it does her.

“Earth to little tornado.” Hawke snaps his fingers in front of me, and I blink back into focus.

“Did you only come for the food?” I ask him and daringly look over his shoulder at his brother. Fuck, he looks good. He always does. And he still hasn’t looked up from his phone since arriving. But that’s not surprising in the slightest.

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