Page 84 of Wicked Little Lies

I lean back, deliberately skimming my gaze slow and insolent over her.

She’s the image of pure in control woman, but there’s something that dampens the rising excitement. The hint of dark circles beneath her eyes, ones that speak of a lack of sleep or a very restless night.

I know after I dropped her off, after she didn’t invite me up and didn’t respond to my call or text, that she went to see her friend. Vicky called me, and I’m betting since the call came late and from in the apartment, Vicky’s indulging in her sapphic desires.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

A slow smile blooms because those three words contain everything I need. She’s mad, but not over the sex.

“What crawled up your cunt and bit you?” I ask deliberately poking her with the biggest stick I can find.

She looks at me then reaches over and take my drink, plate and fork, and starts to eat the gnocchi on my plate. Then she washes it down with my bourbon. MG catches the eye of the waiter. “A bottle of your most expensive bourbon.”

“We have—”

“Most. Expensive.” And then she smiles at him.

He nods and hurries off. The smile vanishes as she sets dark, flashing eyes on me.

“Enjoy your date?” she asks.

“Did Hendrick keep you up all night?” I say. Then I snap my fingers. “Oh, that’s right, he had that girl, didn’t he?”

She grinds her jaw, then opens up something on the burner, and slaps it down. “That one?”

“Oh, fuck me, she’s…perfection.”

A piece of gnocchi hits me on the forehead. I pick up my napkin and wipe the spot, then fold the cloth neatly and set it down. I scroll through the phone’s contents. “Nice aim.”

Then I hold up the phone and the photo of me.

“And here I thought you’d be mad I interrupted your little date.”

“Of course not—” I stop as the waiter returns with the bottle and two fresh glasses he pours a finger into each and I thank him and then top them up. “The date was already over.”

“From where I stood, it looked like it just began.”

I raise a brow and tap my glass to hers, then down mine and refill it. “Maybe she already blew me in the bathroom.”

“You’re slipping,” she says, taking a sip from her glass. “I thought you made Carlos hold them for you under a table.”

“Only on Sundays.”

“Asshole.” Her look withers.

“You’re being a bitch.”

“Maybe, but gnocchi plus whatever froufrou drink she had is what I call a cheap date.” She crosses her arms.

MG’s a territorial thing. It both pleases me and pisses me off. Something I think she’s gifted at.

“Did you want to get into a bidding war with her for me?” I ask.

Magdalena uncrosses her arms and leans forward. “You’re not all that, Jac.”

“Are you pissed over last night?”

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