Page 121 of The Villain We Tempt

“Fuuuuck,” I groan.

Ari, who’s one of those supremely annoying people who can actually have conversations before coffee, sees who's calling and turns to grimace at me.

“Uh oh.” Her face brightens. “You want me to answer and pretend to be you?”

I pout, shaking my head. “They’ll know.”

“I don’t know,” she presses. “I do a pretty goodyouimpression.”

“Right, but you’d be speaking in complete sentences at seven in the morning. They’d know for sure.”

I give her a weak smile and then answer the call. “Hey,P?—”

“We're coming to get you.”

Shit.

“Hang on,” I groan, shoving my fingers through my red tangles. “The police haven’t said it was anything more than an accident?—”

“Anaccident?!” Roman Nikitin roars through the phone. “Dochenka, there was a fuckingheartcarved in his chest! I’ll be there in an hour with thirty men?—”

“Papa—”

“—Zane, too. You’re coming home, where I can protect you from?—”

“Papa!”

He pauses just long enough to exhale heavily.

“Sorry,” he grunts. “I know it’s early, but we just saw the news, and…” He exhales again. “How would you feel about NYU? Or maybe a private tutor? I can call in some favors and hire half the Psych faculty from Harvard to come?—”

“Papa…” I sigh. “Hi. Good morning. How are you?”

A snorted laugh comes from the background.

“Oh, he’sgreat,” Dad cackles. “Totally calm. Totally not pacing the fucking house like a lunatic.”

“Well I’msorrythat I’m concerned for our children’s fucking welfare!” Papa snaps.

My call waiting beeps. I giggle when I see that it's Dad. I patch him into the three-way call and laugh.

“Aren’t youbothat home?”

“Well, yeah,” Dad sighs. “But your Papa is pitching a fit?—”

“Val!” Papa hisses. “There was a goddamnmurder?—”

“Roman, baby, statistically there’s a murder in New York every twenty-nine hours,” Dad points out.

“Yes, in a city of nine million people!” Papa shoots back as I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, desperately wishing I had coffee right now.

“Rome—”

“How many people live in Hawthorne Hollow?” Papa hisses. “Likeseven?!”

“Papa,” I groan. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m okay, really. They haven’t released any info on it yet, but they’re calling it an isolated incident.”

There’s a tap on my shoulder. I look up and groan in appreciation when I see Ari in the bathroom mirror, holding out a steaming mug.