Page 103 of All Twerk, No Play

Unaware of my internal struggle, Eric feigned confusion. “What’s the big deal? Can’t you just buy another house?”

Rebekkah’s lips parted, her shoulders slumping for a millisecond before she recovered.

And that’s when it hit me: The Larssons were broke.

I exhaled, releasing tension that felt like it had been lingering in my muscles for decades, as my mouth lifted into a smug smile.

Spencer had always been impulsive with money, buying flashy clothes and trading in his new cars. But if what Margot said was true, that Spencer’s dad had been indicted for tax evasion and his properties had been seized …

My townhouse was all they had left.

The only reason they would have checked the deed was if it saved their asses from being kicked out.

That’s why he wanted the promotion and subsequent raise: Whether or not he had his father’s shares, he couldn’t cash them out without raising suspicion. When he’d heard that Alexander and I broke up, he’d started the rumors that we’d patched things up, hoping that would strengthen his case with board members. And since he expected me to arrive alone and heartbroken, I was his Plan B. He’d leave his wife in a second to get his hands back on my bank accounts.

Well … fuck him.

I straightened to my full height, looking down my nose at this squatter. “Oh Becky,” I said, shaking my head with false compassion. “If you want to keep living inmytownhouse, you should rethink your tone with your Ice Queen landlady.”

“Wait,” Rebekkah said. “I can explain. Maybe we can—”

“Can somebody track down my errant ex-husband?” I hollered to the audience eating up this drama, chronicling every moment for future retellings. “Tell him for every minute I wait, I’ll raise his rent.”

The gossip network finally worked in my favor as calls for Spencer passed into the house. I rubbed my hands together, scrubbing off my responsibility for their recklessness.

While we waited, I turned to Eric, who muttered, “Lucy, you got some ‘splaining to do.”

I chuckled, wrapping my arms around his neck as an idea occurred to me. “You wanna get out of here?”

“What, ditch the party and go back to our room?”

“No, ditch the party and go home.”

Home. The first time I called Saratoga Springs home. The music conservatory was no longer my solace. I wanted to be in my apartment, with my cat, in our building ...

With him.

“Dad said I had to be seen, and this little display ensures everyone knows I was here.”

“Aren’t you supposed to talk to him tonight?”

“He kept me in the dark on enough. He can wait,” I said. “If we leave now, we can order takeout and sleep at my place.”

His mouth lifted into a mischievous smile. “I don’t think there will be much sleeping, baby.”

Pressing one more kiss to those irresistible lips, I said, “I’ll tie up this loose end, you pack and pull around the getaway car.”

As Eric went upstairs to orchestrate our escape, Spencer came barreling through the crowd, wide-eyed and breathless. He’d taken me by surprise last night with his unexpected appearance and half-assed apology, an ambush predator attacking from behind. But I didn’t need to rely on smoke screens and cheap tricks.

He stumbled closer, taking me by the wrist. “Vickie, what are you—?”

“Don’t touch me,” I hissed, instinctively twisting my wrist into his thumb to break his grasp. “Becky and I had a nice chat.”

He noticed his distressed wife, then ran his hand over his face. “She wasn’t supposed—”

I put a finger over his lips. “I heard about your updates tomytownhouse.”

He inhaled sharply, glaring at his wife before that calm veneer returned. “She doesn’t understand real estate, so it’s not—”

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