Page 76 of A Villain’s Lies

Does she know of my existence at all? I doubt it.

Going back inside, I find Grayson’s old number and call it.

He answers straight away. “Avani.”

“Look, I don’t appreciate unwanted visitors,” I tell him.

“What are you talking about?” He sounds confused.

“Charlotte just left my place. She was not invited.” I hear him mutter some swear words.

“She was tracking me, the sneaky bitch.”

“So, now you’ll meet me at the store in an hour because you have a dress to buy,” I inform him.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I covered your ass. You’re welcome. She thinks you’re buying her some kind of special dress. Which, now you are. A yellow one.”

“Yellow?”

“Yes, it’s all I could think of under trying circumstances.” I start pulling out my clothes and getting dressed.

“What are you doing right now?” he asks.

“Getting dressed.”

“Let’s FaceTime.”

“Ha, no.” I laugh, and I hang up on him.

I quickly straighten my hair and make myself an energy drink before I head out. As I step outside, he’s there, leaning against a car. Not his usual flashy car—this one is more my style; it’s softer and more affordable.

“Where did you steal the car from?” I nod to it.

Grayson runs his hand over the hood. “I went to go and get yours, but it’s fucked. You really know how to buy shit cars, don’t you?” he states as he chucks the keys at me.

“What’s this for?”

“For showing me your boobs.” He winks.

“I haven’t…” Oh, he means before. “I don’t want it.”

“Well, you did show me your pussy too, so that meant a Porsche, but I knew you wouldn’t want one of those.” He smacks the roof of the Toyota. “She is reliable, brand new, and not too flashy.”

“You can’t just buy me a car.” I scoff.

“I can…and did. Now, if you are contemplating some form of payment, I would like to see your tits again,” he says in all seriousness.

“You have issues. You know that, right?”

“I do, but you do have great tits.” His eyes dance with mischief as he stares at me.

I look down at the keys in my hand, then back to him and the car. “I can’t accept this,” I argue.

“You can, and you will.” He taps the window and says, “Look inside.” So I do, and the first thing I see is not one but two designer bags. “You haven’t stopped accepting these gifts, now, have you?” he teases, a slow and steady smirk touching his lips.

“Um… Hell no. You can buy me the store, if you like,” I say, opening the door to take a closer look.

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