Page 2 of Mischievous Lies

“You can fuck off,” I snap, no longer amused by his antics as I glare at him.

Tonight was meant to be fun, and I’m not going to get that here, so I’ll create my own somewhere else. I shove past Hawke, who is laughing. He loves riling me up, and I often throw it back just as much, but tonight, I can’t be bothered. I don’t even want to know why they’re here at this run-down bar, but it probably means they’re up to no good.

“Evie!” my date calls out, but I couldn’t care less.

“Her name’s Ivy, fuckface. Not that I give you permission to use it,” Hawke says. Ford simply nods at me as I pass him, anapologetic gleam in his gaze. I like Ford; he’s the more stable of the two—in demeanor, at least—and is dating my best friend, Billie, so I’m a bit biased.

His brother, however, can indeed fuck right off. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept with Hawke, and no one within our friends’ group knows it. We both know how good it was, and that keeps us in an endless cycle of not wanting one another but interfering when the other tries to hook up with someone else. It’s kind of fun, but only when I’m messing with him.

Tonight is his win, but it certainly doesn’t end here because Hawke and I are forever in a little war of our own.

The guy might be able to fuck like a god, not that I’d ever admit it to him, but he’s also a total ass.

CHAPTER 2

Hawke

Watching her hips sway as she walks out of the room has me fucking hypnotized like always. I can’t help the smug smile that pulls at my mouth, knowing I got under her skin yet again, though I’d much rather be under her body or her under me. Either way would be fine with me.

What I like about Ivy the most is she knows exactly the power she holds over men, how they’d almost do anything to spend a night with her. And I’m no exception. I’ve been caught in her web before, and although I want to fuck her again, I quite like the games we play.

Out of our group of friends, I feel like she’s the only one who actually gets me and matches my energy. Right now, she’s just sulking because I one-upped her, but I know my girl will come back swinging.

“Think she’s coming back?” Her date asks as I turn to look at him and rap the table with my knuckles.

“Sure,” I reply. But I know she isn’t. A run-down place like this, an unfinished drink, and a guy who looks as boring as watching paint dry will never keep someone like Ivy entertained.

I’ve fucked a lot of women. I love women. Women are fucking amazing. From their soft skin to the curves of their hips to theirpuckered lips. To the sweet taste of pussy. Yeah, I fucking love women. And Ivy Walker is probably my favorite woman.

After our one night together, I knew I couldn’t be with her again, even though I desperately wanted to. She’s addictive, and I get addicted very easily. So, for our families’ sake, and ours, I just play with her because seeing her lips pucker and her little nose scrunch is one of my favorite things, apart from what’s between her legs.

My twin brother, Ford, joins me as I walk toward the back of the restaurant.

“Kissing her was too much, don’t you think?” he asks. “Billie might chop your balls off for doing that. Ivy isn’t one of your party girls.”

I smirk because Ivy certainly isn’t. But he doesn’t know we’ve already been together. It’s the great thing about being known as the clown of the group—no one takes me seriously, and they’re not surprised by any of the things I do.

“It was just a friendly greeting. I kiss Billie the same way.” He stops dead in his tracks, and I’m quick to say, “You know it’s a joke, bro.” I laugh, but he’s anything but amused. I roll my eyes. Fuck, everyone around us is getting all in their feelings and stepping into relationships and are possessive assholes.

“Let’s get this over with,” he grits. “We don’t want to be late for Mother’s dinner.” I internally grimace because our mother, Anya Ivanov, can’t cook for shit. But if we’re late, she legitimately might remove one of our fingers as a consequence. It’s what I find so charming about our crazy adoptive mother, who runs the underworld auctions. And our adoptive father, River, who’s a gun dealer, will most likely laugh and say he warned us.

I don’t bother knocking as I open the door to the office. The man behind the desk pales as he looks up at us.

“I-I have the m-money!” he splutters, and I hear my brother close the door behind us. I crack my knuckles with the same beaming smile I gave Ivy only minutes ago. The truth of the matter is, there’s one thing I like just as much as women. And that’s blood.

“But we should’ve received the money yesterday. See where the problem lies?” I ask rhetorically, my smile never dimming.

My brother and I were nothing but street rats when we were kids. We were fortunately stupid enough to break into our adoptive parents’ home, and instead of killing us, they took us in. Then we hit the jackpot when we caught the attention of Eli Monti as teenagers. He’s around the same age as we are, and our fangs were sharpened to work for the now Italian mafia boss in Manhattan. As his seconds, we get all the fun jobs. And although Ivy’s night might’ve turned to shit, mine’s just getting started.

CHAPTER 3

Ivy

Because I go out on a lot of dates, I’ve become very good at hacking into guys’ phones and deleting my number as well as any trace of our meeting. I used to change my number until I realized this way was much more efficient. The men I go out with seem to get attached way too quickly. Even though I explain very clearly that I’m not looking for anything other than one night together, they always try to pursue it further, and I wonder if it’s the old saying of wanting what you can’t have.

I tried having a boyfriend once. It only lasted a few weeks before I became so bored with the back-and-forth texting and his need to call every night that I had to end it. Talking about the weather, his job, and what I was up to put my brain into snooze mode. So I’ve decided one night is all a guy gets. Sometimes, if they’re decent in bed, I might see them a few times, but that rarely happens because they only care about their needs, and Lord forbid I use them for my own.

Having the apartment to myself today gives me the opportunity to laze about with only my underwear on. Billie, my best friend and roommate, is at work and will most likely go to Ford’s house tonight. She seems to go over there more than hecomes here since she picked up a stray cat and made him keep it to make her happy. I’m allergic to cats, so that little fucker wasn’t coming anywhere near here. No, thank you to a leaky nose and watery eyeballs.

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