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“I… I don’t like to talk about that night. You know that, Ellie.”
“Why not, Camille?!” I snarl.
Her face turns paler. “You know why! Because?—”
“Because everything you told me about that night is bullshit, maybe?!” I scream. “And you ‘don’t like to talk about it’ because you probably don’t even remember what your fucking story is!?”
She looks at me, aghast. “That motherfucker raped me, Eloise!!” she yells back. “He got me wasted, and?—”
“Really? This says you were fucking sober when you were pulled over.”
I yank the police report out of my bag and shove it against her chest, splashing her cocktail over her robe.
“I…I…” Camille stammers, looking white as she takes the paper. “I don’t know what sort of lies Alistair told you, but?—”
“You blew a zero-point-zero for alcohol, Camille,” I hiss. “Alistair, meanwhile, fell out of the fucking car, ran from a cop in a daze, and then collapsed in the street with his heart rate in the fucking toilet.”
She goes still—so still I almost wonder if she’s having some sort of psychotic episode. She stares through the report in her hand, a wild, manic look in her eyes. Slowly, she drags her gaze back to me, her mouth twisted in fury.
“Get out.”
“You lied to me, Camille!!” I scream. “Why the hell would you?—”
“Get out!!”
“And worse, it was you trying to take him home?! “I mean, what kind of a sister does that?! What the fuck is wrong with?—”
“GET!! OUT!!”
The room goes silent as we stare each other down, her bloodcurdling scream still hanging in the air.
“Gladly,” I hiss quietly.
I keep my shit together until I’m outside. Then it hits me like a brick in the face. I collapse onto a park bench just around the corner, sucking in air as a million thoughts explode through my head.
There are several reasons why, ten years ago, I had to force myself to stop thinking of Alistair Black the way I used to. Our tortuously enmeshed paths, and the way things went up in smoke when he cut me out is one of them. Later, my fake, unwanted marriage to Massimo become another.
But the biggest one for me was thinking for so many years that he and my sister slept together.
Now that I’ve just found out that it’s all bullshit, I have no idea what to do with myself. With my sudden proximity to Alistair again.
…Or with the dangerous notion that I may, in fact, be falling once again for the same boy I fell for before.
Come what may.
15
ALISTAIR
There are a few things about Eloise LeBlanc that I’m slowly remembering, the more time I spend around her. Sure, some are purely libido-related. Like how fucking sexy it is when she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth when she’s thinking about something.
Or the way her luscious ass fills out a pencil skirt oh so well. Or the scent of her, which has an immediate Viagra-on-steroids effect on my dick whenever I catch it in the air, which is very inconvenient if I’m sitting down with a client just as Eloise walks by the conference room.
Fuck you, pheromones.
But there are other non-sexual things about Eloise that are slowly coming back to me from before as I notice them again. Her tenacity, for example, which might even rival that of my sister, Tempest.
But the biggest one—which is fucking with me more that I care to admit—is “the switch”.
