Chapter 27 – Lily
LILY
Grim
call me
Me
when hell freezes
Grim
can be arranged. i have connections
Me
then go talk to them
My heels clack as I walk across the marble floors of the Cleosville Art Museum. The anonymous caller came through, and when I got home from Aster’s, Jude Westerford’s schedule was sitting on my bed. Highlighted in bright yellow was:
Meeting at Cleosville Art Museum – Saturday, 6 p.m.
The place is mostly empty, and given I’ve been wandering for at least an hour, I worry I’ll soon appear suspicious.
My phone buzzes and I pull it out, Amara’s name flashing across the screen.
A reminder that if I wait here any longer, I’m going to be late to her and Val’s Halloween party.
It’s the week before the holiday, but since they have to take Zuri trick-or-treating on the actual date, the adult shenanigans will take place tonight.
Given I’m basically alone in these echoing halls, I accept the call.
“Hey, girl,” she coos.
“What’s up?”
“Can you get a bag of ice on your way? I don’t think we’ll have enough.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“What costume did you choose? I personally was a fan of the angel.”
“Cowgirl Barbie.” I’m desperate for any excuse to wear those gorgeous boots again. And they’re finally clean—it took me two days to get Vetrel’s blood off them.
“Hottie alert!” she shouts, and I blush with an eye roll. “What time will you be over? Val just dropped Zuri at her mom’s, and she’ll be back soon with the keg.”
“I’m finishing a project, and then I’ve gotta go home and freshen up.”
“Okay, don’t be too late. I have a surprise for you.”
My curiosity is piqued. “You know I hate surprises.”
“You’re gonna love this one.” Her smile radiates through the phone.
“How are things at the shop? Got the window patched?” I wish I could ask so much more. Did your landlord drop the rent increase? Did you get another threat?
“Things are great. Everything’s patched… I think we’re going to be okay.”
Relief washes through me. “I’m happy to hear that.” Familiar voices flood the hall. “Gotta go,” I tell her. “See you in a bit.”
“See you.”
I toss the phone in my tote and find the nearest art piece, feigning admiration. Heavy footsteps draw louder until I hear, “Lillian?”
I turn to find Jude. “Hey,” I say, and he grabs my shoulder, leaning in and kissing my cheek. Is this a rich people thing?
A forced smile spreads across my face. “How are you? How’s Isla?”
“Great. Great.” He nods, with a polished smile.
“Your event was so lovely. Thank you for welcoming me into your home for it.”
“Of course.” He pauses, forehead creasing. “I did notice you and your date left during the auction.”
Shit.
“Yes, I—well…” Think, you dumb bitch, think! “He had diarrhea, so we rushed out.”
“Oh.” His eyes widen, lips parting. “I’m, uh, sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, the crab cakes just didn’t agree with him.” I wave Jude off. “He’s fine now. Was so sad we had to leave early. We really were having the loveliest time.”
He clears his throat. It’s awkward. Fuck, why did I mention Aster?
Why did I mention diarrhea?
The plan was to seduce him. Diarrhea isn’t sexy!
“Please tell Isla it was such an honor seeing her art.” I force a smile, toning it down when I border on creepy Chucky doll. “The pieces were so incredibly unique. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her more about them.”
His prideful smile returns. “We’re having a masquerade gala on Halloween. I’ll make sure your name is on the guest list.”
Jackpot.
“Oh, that would be wonderful.” Does that invite include a plus one? I’m not sure how I’d feel going without Aster. I shouldn’t need his protection. I don’t need his protection. But it is nice not having to go alone. “Do you mind if I bring a date?”
“The more, the merrier.” His phone rings, the sound echoing in the large room, and he pulls it out. “Sorry. I have to take this.”
“Of course.” He places another kiss on my cheek, which I promptly wipe off as he walks away, loafers squeaking as he goes, and takes the call.
“I’m sorry, what?” he asks, tone agitated. “He was where?”
My phone buzzes.
Amara
Get more cups too
Me
Shall I also bring my firstborn?
Amara
That would be great thanks xx
The burner phone in my bag vibrates once more. It’s Aster. Again. Pulling it out, I glance at the tiny screen.
(1) Missed Call
Grim
Plz, karma baby
Suppressing the flutter in my stomach at the nickname, I toss the phone back in my bag.
I don’t want to deal with this bullshit right now.
I’m still angry at him for last night. For insinuating I can’t do things on my own.
For… for forcing me to admit things I’m not ready to admit. Not now. Not ever.
Tonight, I’m just going to have normal fun with my normal friends and pretend I’m not moonlighting as a vigilante with a sexy serial killer as my sidekick.
“Finally!” Amara says, greeting me at the door with a satin witch costume adorning her curves and spiderwebs painted on her face.
“You look hot!” I grab her hand and make her do a little spin.
“I look hot?” she scoffs, taking in my hot pink vest and matching high-waisted denim skirt. A cowboy hat is secured on my head, my favorite boots adorning my feet. “Look at you!”
“Just a little something I threw together.” I fight a grin. It only took me an hour to figure out how to style my hair. I ended on the same loose curls I always do.
“Mm-hmm.” She takes the ice and cups from my hands as we walk further into the house, which is already buzzing with chatter. There are at least fifty people here all dressed in costumes, the music is loud, and alcohol is clearly flowing freely.
“Sorry I’m late,” I shout towards her ear. I was busy trying to catch a potential serial killer.
“No worries.” She waves me off with a smile.
“Babe,” Val calls from a few feet away, and Amara gives me an apologetic smile, rushing off.
I make my way through the party, only a few people seeming familiar. Passing the kitchen, Amara shouts, “Hey, sexy Barbie!” She points behind me. “Your surprise is over there.”
My gaze follows her finger, and every thought leaves my brain, along with my dreams of a normal night out.
Manspread on a chair in the corner, looking terrifying and delicious, is the current star of my wet dreams. Black jeans adorn his long, muscular legs.
He wears a black hoodie with the hood up, his skull mask hiding the lower half of his face, and a large scythe rests against the wall behind him.
The last time I saw him in that mask was when he stabbed a knife into a man’s neck. So why the hell am I so turned on?
Amara and I need to have a discussion regarding boundaries. Inviting my stalker and an elusive serial killer to set me up with is crossing about a million of them. It may also be necessary to discuss with a shrink why a serial murderer in his Reaper uniform has ignited a bonfire between my thighs.
But the Amara thing totally seems more urgent…
Aster’s gaze connects with mine, and his head cocks to the side.
His grin radiates through the mask, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
Heat floods my veins, and I remind myself that I’m furious with him.
He can’t keep acting like I can’t handle myself.
Like I need protection. Like I enjoy the bad things I do.
But don’t you?
Shaking away the thought, I stomp over to him.
He holds my gaze, patting his thigh, and I scoff. “You’re delusional.”
He hooks a finger over the belt of my costume and tugs, eliciting a squeal as I fall, landing securely in his lap.
The warmth from his chest is irritatingly comforting, and I can’t find the willpower to pull away as his large hand slides around my waist. He removes my hat setting it on a side table, then angles the mouth of his mask towards my ear. “You look divine.”
I scowl, smacking him across the head, and a laugh reverberates beneath me. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not?”
“I’m still angry with you.”
“What else is new?” he asks, and I attempt to stand, but he holds me in place, tugging down the hem of my skirt with his free hand so I don’t give the party a show. It’s possessive, and damn, is it hot. “Stop fighting me.”
“Or what? You’ll kill me?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle. Does he find this amusing?
“Or I’ll find a private room in this house to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.
” My jaw drops. “See, it’s ready for me.
” My face flushes, and words are impossible.
My mouth opens and closes like a damn fish, and he tilts his head. “Only with your permission, obviously.”
Why does he have to always say the right things?
Do I want to give him my permission? My mouth waters at the thought. Shit.
His laugh rumbles beneath me.
“I saw Jude,” I blurt, attempting to change the subject from the very appealing idea of him fucking me in a closet.
“And?”
“He knew we left the art gala early.”
His brows furrow. “Really?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry.” A smile widens on my face. “I told him it’s because you were going to shit yourself.”
A rumbling laugh escapes him. “Excuse me?!”
“Unfortunately, the crab cakes didn’t agree with you, and we had to leave in a rush.”
He pinches my side, and I yelp. “You’re evil.”
“Learned from the best.” I wink, and a beat passes between us as he grazes his fingertips along my knee, practically lighting me on fire. For a moment, I almost forgot I’m sitting on his lap. That is until I readjust myself and he lets out a hushed groan.
“I got some intel myself the other night at the bar,” he says.
“I was wondering why you were there.” Thought he might have tracked me with that new burner, to be honest, but I wasn’t sad he made an appearance.
“Well, it is my bar.”
I scoff. “You don’t own the bar.”
He chuckles. “It can be our bar if you’d like.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the intel before?” I ask.
“Sorry, guess I was a little distracted by you almost getting offed by a British gangster.”
“I did not.” I fold my arms across my chest, and he cocks a brow. “If anything, I almost got offed by his bodyguards.”