Page 89 of Wicked Little Lies

I’m in love with her.

And that means, I’m in deep, deep shit.

No one’s ever, ever come near to doing that to me.

I tuck myself away, put the useless emotions down the bottom of my soul, and follow her.

“Do you really think I’d fuck Bianca?” I ask. “She’s engaged.”

MG finishes pouring her drink and laughs, sitting down on one of the armchairs.

“Jac, no one in their right mind would think a wedding band, let alone an engagement ring, would stop you taking what you wanted.”

I frown. She’s got a point. I wouldn’t let it stop me, someone being engaged, if I really wanted them.

But I haven’t ever wanted the drama that’s going to come with that. Sure, one or two have slipped through, but fuck. I’m insulted.

“It’s fine. I got you a drink.”

I snatch it up, take a swig.

“You like fucking Hendrick.”

She half smiles. “He’s not getting married.”

“I turned her down, not the other way around, MG.” Then I look at her. “Are you sure? I’m ready to go again.”

“I said no.”

“Yes,” I say, “but—”

“No. You do know what it means, right? I thought you did, and how the fuck can you get it up again?” There’s no anger in her voice, it’s almost teasing, but she sounds tired.

“You bring hard-ons on like nothing else on the planet.”

MG ignores my comment, picks up the bracelet, and turns the pink thing over in her hands. “You don’t know how her mother got it?”

“Her mother’s crooked and rich and powerful. Not Quinate, like I said, but up there. She’s been married a fuck ton,” I say, taking another swallow. “Could have been any of the earlier husbands. It’s not a family heirloom. Her mom doesn’t wear a lot of jewelry, but there are family pieces in the home, artfully displayed.”

“Really.”

“Try not to rob her. I work with her some.” I try not to wince at the pink and red monstrosity MG’s so enamored with. “The mother wears simple gold, understated if at all.”

“She’s pragmatic. Driven.”

I frown. “How…?”

“Jewels tell stories, Jac.” She’s studying it like it’s a lover. And it’s fucking erotic.

I breathe out. “This Hendrick thing—”

“Jac.” She looks at me and puts the bracelet on her thigh. “I want him. I always want him. I won’t lie about that. Just like I always want you. Some reasons are the same, some different. So if you’re going to say the Hendrick thing, say the Jac thing, too. Because I have feelings.”

She pauses, like she’s picking words.

Then she continues. “I want you both equally. I wish I didn’t. I wish there was one I wanted more, but I don’t. I want youandHendrick.”

She drains her drink and stands.

---