Page 124 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
Durga: I will be.
Durga: I missed you this weekend.
Benkinersophobia: I spent the weekend with family. Usually, I can message you fine, but my mom’s hiding something from me. I spent the past few days trying to figure it out.
Durga: Did you?
Benkinersophobia: No, but I will. I always get what I want. You should know this by now.
Durga: You sound like my boss.
Benkinersophobia: Fuck your boss.
I already did.
Benkinersophobia: (The curse not the verb. Don’t actually fuck your boss.)
Too late.
My fingers flew across the keyboard until a shadow darkened the screen. Two shiny chestnut loafers entered my vision. I trailed them to their owner.
Not again.
That same déjà vu tickled my head, begging me to listen to it.
You know Brandon from somewhere. Figure it out. This is important, Emery.
Still nothing.
“I’m not interested.” Rough heartbeats ate their way up my throat. Pocketing my phone, I quirked a brow and played it cool. “Can’t take a hint, Mr. Vu?”
“Mr. Vu is my father.”
“Mr. Vu is also you. Great conversation. Let’s never do it again.” I feigned left and swerved right, feeling like the next Odell Beckham when Brandon fell for the juke.
“Miss Winthrop, we have to talk.” His fingers curled around my wrist, releasing when I jerked it away. “This is important. You’re not in trouble.”
“No shit.” I swiveled and snapped my glare to him. “I’m well aware I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t break any laws. I don’t care about whatever three-lettered government agency you came from. It means nothing to me. You mean nothing to me.” A bruise would form around my wrist, but I refused to cradle it. “You’re looking at the wrong Winthrop, and newsflash, I haven’t seen my dad in years. I have work to do. Have a shitty day. I know I will.”
The metal door handle cooled my palm, but I still ran thirty degrees hotter inside. I pivoted and staggered back when my eyes caught and held Nash’s through the door’s reflection. His narrowed eyes flicked from me to Brandon and back to me.
Two fingers toyed with the cuff on one hand, like he was gearing for a fight. Being his victim appealed less to me than a conversation with the S.E.C.’s lapdog, so I swung the glass door open and shouldered past him.
“Tiger.”
I didn’t stop.
“Emery.”
Still didn’t stop.
The daytime security guard nodded at me as I strolled past him, his opinion of me suddenly more favorable now that I kept him fed. Pride made accepting food from Nash impossible, even if it meant hurting myself in the process.
My vision blurred from the hunger, colorful spots dancing at the corners. I could put myself out of my misery by taking the meals. Instead, I let Nash eat them or gave them to the security guards.
I thought I had hallucinated the fridge, but when I entered the office, an Insta Cart deliverer stood in front of it, cramming a spread of frozen meals, expensive protein, and yogurt inside.
Falling to the couch, I considered my options with Brandon. Really, I had none. He could keep showing up, but I didn’t have answers for him, except my dad’s location, which wouldn’t help. The S.E.C. and F.B.I. hadn’t found anything on Dad the first time around.
