Page 172 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
“Somebody bought this place, and it looks like they never touched it.” We walked past a few rooms and into the kitchen. “Even Virginia’s Swarovski dinner plates are set in the dining room. They’re not even dusty.”
“What I find weird is you calling your mom Virginia.”
Actually, I found it weirder she hadn’t called her that from the start. The woman made the evil step-mom from Hansel and Gretel seem like a peach.
“What I find weird is that I bothered to call her Mother for twenty-two years, and it took a text from her to get me to stop.” She flung open the refrigerator, which the staff kept stocked for themselves, and pulled out a bag of frozen peas. “This isn’t even expired.”
I said nothing, watching her as she approached me.
She pressed the bag to my eye, gentle at first but firm when I didn't react. “It was always you, wasn’t it?” she asked. I had no idea what she was talking about. She sucked in a breath. “Able was a dick, and I had revenge on my mind. If you hadn’t hurt him, I would have. Thank you.”
She was staring at me hard, looking at me like I might have a heart. I pulled at my collar, remembering after that I wore a Henley, not a button-down. Her breath fanned my cheeks, rushing to my neck. Mint and the strawberries she’d eaten at Ma’s.
If she didn’t move, I’d kiss her.
Fuck Reed.
Fuck Gideon.
Fuck Virginia.
Funny, how I never wanted to kiss anyone before, and now all I could think of was owning Emery's lips.
“Keep the ice on it.” She replaced her hand on the peas with mine, lingering, eyes jumping to my mouth. “I wonder if my room is the same.”
It was.
I didn't tell her.
Her eyes dropped to my lips once more. The sharp inhale confirmed she wanted them on hers, too. Three more seconds of staring, and I’d give it to her.
Two.
O—
She stepped back and strode to her bedroom. We passed the library, piano room, her parents’
room, and the game room without stopping in any of them. If I didn’t know better, I would think she hadn’t grown up here. That these walls, this roof, the fucking statuario beneath our feet meant nothing to her.
In fact, she acted like she had no claim to the place. It bothered me. Not in the fairy tale Emery-and-I-met-here kind of way, but something that had less to do with us and more to do with the fact that she thought she had to be strong by pushing the past away.
She didn’t.
I’d been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. It fit three-sizes too small, and every time I wore it, it damn near choked me to death.
Probably why I blurted, “I bought it.”
She squinted at me and kept walking. “You bought what?”
“The Winthrop Estate.”
Her feet stopped, but her back faced me. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” Always lying.
Because I thought it would lead to clues to take down your family. Turns out, I was wrong. You’re probably innocent. Your Dad is probably innocent. Two more victims of this mess. So much of that going around.
Instead, I offered, “You can have it.”
