Fraud (Antihero Inferno #2) - Lily White Page 0,155

to the stairwell door, I extend an arm for her to go ahead of me.

“Ladies first,” I whisper.

Her eyes glimmer, that sinful mouth of hers opening on an inside joke that will always be ours.

“Such a gentleman.”

From down the hall, the other elevator dings just before Tanner’s voice booms through the office.

“Where the fuck are Gabriel and Ivy?”

Kissing Ivy quickly, I murmur, “Only for you.”

My hand slaps her ass because we’re out of time.

“Now get the fuck moving before he finds us.”

Ezra

How do I even start this?

Pacing the floor of the private banquet room I rented out in Emily’s favorite restaurant, I run my hands through my hair because I don’t know what to do.

This isn’t me.

The flowers.

The bullshit live quartet.

The silver domed dishes and flickering candles.

Small chandeliers glimmer above my head, the lighting low to be romantic.

I’m as out of my element here as I would be at a peace rally, and I can’t stay still because of it.

Locking my hands behind my back, I stare down at the scuffed toes of my boots. I never wear the bullshit polished loafers that Tanner, Gabriel and Mason prefer. The suits I begrudgingly wear for work are too restrictive and clingy.

I’ve only been here for ten minutes, but already I’ve stripped off the jacket, unknotted my tied, unbuttoned my collar and cuffs and rolled my sleeves up my forearms.

Part of it is the rage I feel, the need to tear shit apart because it’s easier than worrying about what Emily will say when she gets here.

The two waiters stare at me nervously from where they stand near a far door. Even the violinist keeps stealing quick glances my direction before flicking his gaze back to the music in front of him.

Nobody looks at me for too long except for the female cellist who has made it obvious she likes what she sees.

A monster.

A beast.

A loaded cannon who will explode from the tiniest spark.

This isn’t my scene, and yet I’m buried in it on Ivy’s suggestion. She thinks a grand display will convince Emily to work this out. But I have my doubts.

It was never supposed to end up like this. Emily was something fun when we first started fucking her. She was lashing out at her parents for promising her to Mason, and Damon and I were taking turns toying with her because she let us.

It was a game.

Something we did in high school for a handful of months that ended when we all left for college.

Everything changed when we saw her again at her engagement party. And now, here I stand like a heartsick punk, pacing the floor of a room I have no business being in.

I could destroy my brother doing this.

I could fuck up my own head.

Neither of us are all that well balanced to begin with.

Worse than that is the chance I’ll tear Emily’s heart apart even more when she shows up to discover I won’t give her up.

This is stupid.

Reckless.

It goes against everything I promised Damon back when we were still kids.

I shouldn’t be here.

And I can’t destroy him.

Not when he’s so close to the edge of rage all the time that there’s no telling what he might do.

Not that I’m that much further from the edge. Especially not now as my fingers curl into my palms, my hands tightening into fists. Pain shoots along my jaw when my teeth clench together, and my pulse pounds against my throat.

I shouldn’t be here.

And Emily isn’t coming.

A muscle in my jaw jumps as I turn to yank my jacket from the chair where I’d dropped it, my shoulders tight and biceps bunching as I march toward the doors to leave.

Fuck it all, I think. The best thing I can do is get drunk or high, to fucking knock some faceless asshole around in some nameless bar. It’s the only thing that helps relieve the energy inside me.

I’m almost to the door, my decision made when it opens before I can grab the handle. My eyes dart up, my stare hard and unwavering when Emily steps through.

Instantly, her eyes glance around the room. First surprise shines behind the turquoise color. Then confusion. Elation. Fear and sorrow. She runs the entire gamut of emotions in the first five seconds.

I turn and scowl at the roses and candles. The waiters and quartet. I shake my head and regret renting this place and hiring these people.

This isn’t me.

It isn’t Damon, and it’s not Emily.

None of us have ever been so classy.

She must

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