Page 6 of The Devil Gets His Due

“According to my predictions,”he’d say,“you, Keeley, are ninety percent more likely than an average woman your age to be in a car accident, forget to pay a bill, or get reprimanded for dancing suggestively on a cafeteria table.”

Six leads me down the pool stairs, into water as warm as a child’s bath. He sinks as low as he can. “Climb on.”

“Who are we fighting?” I ask as I sling one thigh over his shoulder.

“Me,” says the deep voice behind me, and goose bumps rise on my arms. I turn as Graham wades in, looking a thousand times better than anyone as boring as him should. He does not have a single tattoo, but when you’re that sculpted, you don’t need any—his body is a work of art all on its own. If only he didn’t have to ruin it by running his mouth.

“Keeley, this is Elise,” he says, indicating the girl beside him, who I’d somehow failed to notice. She’s my exact opposite, by which I mean she appears too elegant and refined to be participating in a chicken fight in the first place. I’m going todestroyher. “She’s at Ben and Gemma’s firm.”

Ugh. A lawyer. How perfect for him. They can bore each other for hours on end.

My bruised pubic bone presses to the back of Six’s head—the universe reminding me Graham is, perhaps, notalwaysboring.

Six and I wade farther into the pool while Elise climbs on Graham’s shoulders. “She’s tiny,” I tell Six. “This will be over fast.”

“You’re tiny too, wild thing.”

Tiny, yes, but fucking fierce. I’m pretty sure that’s Shakespeare, but I’m not sure Shakespeare used the wordfuckall that often, so I keep it to myself. If I’m botching it, Graham will be sure to overhear and point it out.

“Ready?” Graham asks, and we turn.

He’s holding Elise effortlessly atop his broad shoulders with a smug grin on his face, and in response, I shiver. It’s probably horror, but it doesn’t entirelyfeellike horror. I have a few very distinct, sharp memories from last night. None of them involve horror. The opposite, really, but they give me the burst of energy I need to knock Elise off Graham’s shoulders in five seconds flat.

Six whoops. “That’s my fuckinggirl!”

“It was supposed to be fun, Keeley,” says Graham, helping Elise—her wet hair plastered to her face, mascara running—out of the water. “Not a death match.”

I give him a small smile. “Looks like you were out of your league.”

His eyes drift over me slowly, possessively, from my lips to my breasts and down to my hips before he steps close. I shiver as his hand brushes against my waist, as his breath grazes my ear. “Keeley,” he says, so only I can hear, “we both know that’s not true.”

When he walks away, my nipples are pinched so tight that I have to fold my arms over my chest as I walk out of the pool. And I’m pretty sure it’s not the air temperature that got them that way.

The party isto be held on the hotel’s long, sloping back lawn. It’s a black and white theme, over Graham’s strenuous objections. He was probably worried someone would enjoy it too much.

Thanks to my spray tan and lash extensions, I didn’t need a lot of makeup tonight, so it’s mostly a soft red lip and some highlighter. I pile my hair high on my head with a few loose strands escaping around my face—the sort of look men will laud for beinglow-maintenanceandnaturalbecause they have no fucking clue how long it took. Those are the same guys who will tell you you’re lucky to be “naturally pretty”because you“don’t need all that shit other girls use,”never realizing you spent forty-five minutes on contour alone.

My white dress is sleeveless and fitted, with a v-cut down to my ribs. I lean closer to my reflection to ensure no tell-tale marks from last night are showing, like the hickeys I discovered on my breast and inner thigh this morning. And then I admire the nice hint of side boob revealed by the dress. Oddly, it’s Graham’s reaction I think of first before I shake my head and force myself to focus on Six instead.

I take the elevator downstairs with a small pit of dread in my stomach. When I leave with Six at the party’s end, it will undoubtedly be under Graham’s watchful eye and make me feel as if I’m doing something wrong. Honestly, how could I have chosen him last night? Do I have multiple personalities, one of whom is a deeply boring girl who’d rather talk about inflation than hook up with a rock star?

I walk out the back doors, and the first thing I see on the lawn is Graham, of course, dressed in head-to-toe black and discussing something with the caterer. For a moment—before disgust rushes in—I just look. He wears clothes like a dream andGodthat mouth is wasted on him. He should be on a movie screen with a mouth like that. Okay, maybe I don’t have multiple personalities. Just one that’s particularly shallow.

He turns then, as if sensing my gaze, and takes me in, eyes drifting from my face and then down—to my breasts, the curve of my waist, and back up. His nostrils flare as if he’s an animal who’s just picked up my scent.

“All set to seduce your rock star, then?” he asks.

For a second, I’d forgotten about Six entirely.

“Well, it would have been easier if you hadn’t nixed the tequila luge I wanted.”

His eyes fall closed. “I don’t think you’d need to get anyone drunk, Keeley,” he mutters. He reaches into a folder and puts a piece of paper in front of me. “We need to go over the seating plan.” He points at one table that is full of little .5 marks. “What’s this?”

I roll my eyes. “That’s the table for people with kids. You know, your concern about this is coming a little late in the day.”

“And they’re far from me?” he asks.

“Far from us both,” I reply. “Thank God.”

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