Fraud (Antihero Inferno #2) - Lily White Page 0,17

be a bucket of fun.

Straightening my posture, I give the hostess our name and follow behind Ivy as we’re shown to our table. My eyes stay glued to her ass, though, because it’s the perfect heart shape, and the dress she’s wearing does nothing to disguise it.

Ivy’s body, on its own, is a deadly weapon, one that has mocked me through all the years of our war. Only once have I touched it, and that tiny taste was enough to make me an addict.

It’s too bad the circumstances of that night only made our war worse instead of better.

We reach the table, and I hear Ivy snort out a laugh.

“Are you staring at my butt?”

My eyes lift, and I smile with as much charm as I can pack into the expression.

“Not at all. I was checking out the stone floor. I like the color.”

Her lips quirk. “You are such a liar.”

You have no idea, love...

Grinning at that, I pull out her chair to help her into her seat, my mind racing with all the possibilities of how fun this night can be.

Gabriel

Someone should come over to the table now and take away my silverware.

I’m like a toddler with a bad idea, the thought of gouging out my eyes with a spoon a hell of lot more entertaining than the mindless drivel and banal conversation I’ve been suffering for the past two hours.

How?

How is it possible the woman who has kept me on my toes for the past twenty years has been reduced to this empty shell of a person who is more interested in superficial topics and twirling her damn hair?

I’ve been close to tears three times now as I decide just how to write the eulogy for the Ivy I used to know.

Here lies the most aggravating woman ever...which only made me want to fuck her more. It’s a shame I never got the chance while she was still enjoyable.

Okay. It’s more of an epitaph, a shitty one at that, but still. It’s fitting as hell because the beauty staring at me now has lost every ounce of her devious soul.

I keep searching her eyes for the tiniest glimmer of the wickedness I once saw, but all I’m seeing is the typical socialite, a caricature so mundane and boring that I keep fidgeting in my seat fighting the insane urge I have to get up and leave.

Does that mean I’m not interested in dragging her to bed?

No.

Still interested.

Very fucking interested.

Only because I’ve craved it for so long, and together with the asinine conversation I’m being forced to endure, Ivy is flirting her ass off.

I deserve some tail after dealing with this shit. And I’ll be damn sure to take it.

But not as payment for the debt she owes Tanner. We never do that. If a woman spreads her legs for any of the Inferno, she does it on her own terms. Otherwise the conquest is no fun at all.

“So,” Ivy says, her blue eyes hooded with lurid thoughts, the few glasses of wine she’s had going straight to her head, “I was thinking maybe we can go back to your place and work out an arrangement.”

That can’t happen for several reasons. Let me count them down for you.

Number One: Any arrangement to get between Ivy’s legs will have no strings except for the promise of getting off.

Number Two: It’s not my house, and Ivy won’t be getting anywhere near my actual house because, pale imitation of who she used to be or not, I’m not stupid enough to give her my address. I’m still scarred by the chicken incident. Literally. One of them pecked the shit out of me, and the skin never grew back.

And Number Three: Tanner is busy seducing Luca, and I suspect showing up there after he specifically warned me off will result in several broken appendages, as well as the rearrangement of my face. I happen to like my face and prefer to keep it the way it is.

Going to my place is not happening.

But going to hers...

Leaning across the table, I stretch out my arms and take her hands into mine. She happily accepts and leans forward, giving me a stunning shot of her beautiful tits. My cock twitches at the sight of them.

“Considering your guard dog seems to have a hard-on for slitting my throat and bathing in the arterial spray-“

She laughs. “He’s not that bad.”

“He is,” I insist, “but that’s not my point. We should go back to your place instead. At