Page 30 of Mischievous Lies

As I go to call a cab, Hawke’s name appears with a photo attachment. I burst into laughter at his selected image. It’s a mirror selfie of him shirtless, with that killer playboy smile. Fucking poser.

I bet he took that this morning and saved it as his lock screen for whenever he calls.

“You added a photo to your name?” I say in way of a greeting.

“I did. So you don’t have to check on me through the cameras when you want to see me. Now you can just look at me on your phone. I saved plenty more for you as well. You’re welcome.”

“You’re weird.”

“You have a car out front waiting. I’m on a job, but I will come by when I’m done to see how you’re doing.”

“You don’t need to do that,” I’m quick to say. Whatever twilight zone Hawke and I have been in, I know the moment I walk out his front door, we’ll return to how we’ve always been. We have to. Right? “I’m okay, Hawke.” I wish I knew if that were true. “Besides, I have dinner with my parents tonight.”

“Good, Alina loves me,” he gushes. It’s true, she does. She fusses over him, which we all know he loves.

“Bye, Hawke,” I say, walking out to the car that’s waiting for me. The driver is already holding the door open. I greet him and then slide into the back seat. I open my photo gallery and flick through the twenty-two new images taken at eight this morning. All of them of Hawke in different positions. In every single one of them, he’s entirely naked.

I can’t help but snort as a bubble of life flutters through me, shifting the heavy weight on my chest. This arrogant asshole really doesn’t care that he just left nudes on my phone that I could use against him. He knows I could easily share them with the world. Then again, he’d probably love all the attention he’d get from them. Because he truly does look incredible. I tilt my head to the side. I’m not one to enjoy dick pics, but I’ll make an exception for this killer. Not that I’d ever admit that to him. I place my phone in my lap, impressed he didn’t save one of them as a lock screen.

I look out the window, releasing a steady breath. Right. Time to move on. I try not to let things get me down for too long, but even as I try to push out from the dark cloud now hanging over me, I know something isn’t entirely resolved yet. And it fucking sucks.

CHAPTER 19

Hawke

The moment she hangs up, my recently updated screensaver, a picture of her sleeping, appears on my phone. I know if she finds out, she’ll yell at me, but I don’t give a flying fuck. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Before she left my place, she must’ve stolen back the keycard to her apartment that I’d stolen from Ford. So here I am, at her door, knocking like a gentleman. Or something along those lines. I considered climbing up the fire escape, but since she’s on a popular street in Manhattan, I didn’t want others noticing me and giving her a heads-up, which would ruin the whole surprise. So instead, I’m holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a collared shirt, which I fucking hate.

I knock once. Then twice. I look at the time on my phone. Hopefully, she hasn’t left already. I go to knock a third time, and the door swings open before my knuckles can connect. She’s wearing shorts so short that I know I’ll see the bottom of her ass cheeks when she spins and a shirt that just covers her tits, which I know are the perfect handful.

Her gaze narrows on the flowers. “What are those?”

“For your mother, when we go over for dinner.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Hawke, you’re not coming with me for dinner at my parents’ house.”

I shove past, and into her apartment, not deterred whatsoever. “If there’s free food involved, Ivy, I’ll be there. I don’t give a shit whose parents they are. What time are we heading over there?”

I know her mother. Alina won’t have an issue with me coming over. I love her mother. As a teenager, I used to watch her steal things from her husband. She’d giggle and wink at me when I’d notice what she did far before he would. While my mother isn’t particularly close with Ivy’s family, my uncle Alek and Will are, in a surprising way, considering their different temperaments, best friends. That grace was never passed over to me because her dad can’t fucking stand me.

She throws her hands in the air, frustrated, and I know I’ve gotten my way. My gaze dips to her ass. Yep, as perfect as I thought she would look.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she chastises as I follow her down the hallway to her room. It’s dark in here; three computer screens giving off the only light.

“Like what?” I ask, raising a brow.

“Like you want to eat me,” she says with her back to me as she removes her shirt. The fucking tease. She throws another top on.

“Well, I haven’t had dessert,” I say matter-of-factly, basically salivating at the sight of her curves.

“Gosh, you’re annoying.” She goes to remove her shorts, but then looks over her shoulder at me. “Do you mind?”

“You love it,” I smirk as I turn my back, still awkwardly holding the bouquet of flowers. I once bought flowers for my mother on her birthday. She looked at me like I’d grown a second head, unsure of what she was supposed to do with them and forgetting the fact it was her birthday. As far as Anya Ivanovis concerned, she doesn’t age. To be fair, she doesn’t look like she’s aged since she first adopted us.

“My dad’s going to be pissed if I bring you,” she says as I stare at the wall.

“As if you’re not excited by that,” I reply, imagining that she’s smiling right now.

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