He forces a placating smile, but not before I catch the glint in his eyes. Rage, pure and simple.
“Miss Bonnivarde. Elizabeth, if I might?—”
“You might not.”
His face contorts uncomfortably, as if he’s trying to simultaneously unclench his jaw and his butthole and failing at both. “I’m afraid we’re getting off on the wrong foot.”
“Tends to happen when you break into someone’s house, dipshit.”
“I’m hardly breaking in. Rachel has tasked me with doing a full inventory in advance of the gala, to see if we might find anything of interest for the event. The auction draws a numberof wealthy collectors… I’m sure she’s mentioned it to you. I’ve asked that the three of you attend as my guests of honor.”
It’s very possible shedidmention it. Again, many bells rung, drinks, days, etcetera. I take a deep breath. Cast my mind back, fish around a bit…right. The auction. Historical preservation friends. Rich people.
I’m not impressed.
“Mr. Killroy, since when is it appropriate to let yourself in and show yourself around someone’s house? How did you get in here?”
He shrugs. “The storm cellar doors were ajar. I thought I’d poke my head in, see if anyone was up and about.”
“Guess your head poked its way in and rolled, cause here you are, all the way over here.”
His smarmy grin is as shellacked as his hair. “Rachel told me to drop by at my convenience. In fact, I was just about to text her. Trust me, I’m no thief.”
“You know that’s something straight out of the thief’s handbook, right?”
He raises his arms. “Search me if you’d like.”
“What I would like is for you to leave. The next time you have an appointment, ring the doorbell like a fucking gentleman.”
His insincere smile sends a chill right through me. And I’m not just saying that because I’m biased against lawyers. I mean, that’s part of it. But seriously. This guy is a serious dickswab.
Need more evidence? I pointedly ask him to poke his head right back out the way he came, and you know what that little prick says next?
“Now, now, Miss Bonnivarde. There’s no need to be rude. I understand the death of a parent can be a difficult time, believe me. There’s a lot of emotion to process, and we may not always be thinking rationally when our emotions take center stage.”
I’m about to ask him howrationalhe’ll feel after my foot takes center stage with his nuts, but then I remember I’m trying to be agoodwitch, not a violent one, so I pretend to lose my balance instead and dump half my wine on his shirt. Alcohol abuse, I know. But totally worth it.
“Ohmygod, sorry! I hope that doesn’t leave a mark. It’s just that it’s really hard to, like,existand think rationally at the same time. Especially when I’m having all theseemotions. You were saying, Mr. Killroy?”
Speaking of emotions… wow. You should see this guy’s fucking face right now. He’sallup in his feels: shock, rage, disgust, a little turned on if I’m not mistaken, which,gross. It’s not just his face, either. I canfeelit. His hatred toward me is hot and suffocating, rushing over me in waves.
Well, at least I know my innate power sensors are fully operational, even while I’m heavily under the influence. I’ll have to tell Dr. Sutherland so he can make a note in his fancy leather journal—strong emotional response, confirmed!
Dr. Sutherland. Ugh. Now I’ve got a different kind of heatwave situation going on. Good thing my man Killroy is here to spoil the moment.
“Your sister warned me you were a bit… unbalanced.”
Before I even have time to process that little barb, he steps closer, his shark’s grin glinting. “You’d better watch your step, Miss Bonnivarde. Wouldn’t want your poor sisters to have to endure yet another family tragedy.”
“Are youthreateningme?” Fuck being the good witch. I’m about one moreemotionfrom breaking the wineglass and ramming it into his jugular.
“Lizzy? You down there?” It’s Rachel, breezing into the kitchen overhead and saving him from the effort of an answer.
Did she actually call me unbalanced?
“Yep!” I call back, never taking my eyes off him. “Mr. Killroy is here, too.”
“Oh, great! Send him up.”
