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She hasn’t touched the beer, and she's staring down at her nails.
I thought her avoiding other people's gaze was shyness at first, but there's more to it. She's shutting me out, withdrawing access to her expressive eyes.
I don't like it.
"Did she suffer?" she says softly.
Oh. I consider our exchange and see how she came to her conclusion. "Lola isn't dead, Morgan."
Her attention is right back where I want it: on me. "Really?"
I can't answer at first, thoroughly unprepared for the blinding smile. It could be a trick of the light, but I swear her eyes turned sky blue.
"Then why not just tell me—"
She's not going to let it go, and I can't say anything because I don't have the authority to let a non-member into Heritage business. It's as simple as that.
Instead of enlightening her, I decide it's time to remind her why we're here. "Because you threatened us. Because you hacked into one of my friends’ computers and dangled a private video like a dick on a revenge porn campaign. So it's your call, princess. My dick in your pussy, or a few in your mouth."
All happiness vanishes from her face. Good. She shouldn't smile at me like that. We're not friends. In fact, we're the opposite. She proved herself an enemy of the Heritage today, and I am one of its future leaders.
The doorbell rings, just in time.
"Sounds like we have company."
ChapterSeven
I remember what I felt like mere hours ago. Angry, bitter, but also giddy at the thought of finally winning against the privileged asshole who took my friend away from me.
Powerful. I’d felt powerful.
How stupid I was.
I get a few seconds to myself while Camden goes to open his front door, and I consider fleeing. The large kitchen adjoins a lounge on one side and a dining room on the next, through great open domed walls, I can spot French windows on either side. I could run.
And then what? Would I run all the way to New York and save my sister from certain doom like a girl in a fairy tale? I’d have to grow wings, as well as omniscience.
Camden told me the name of the monster he would deliver my sister to, so with time, I could track him down.
I don’t have time.
I don’t have anything. Whatever mattered to me yesterday is in Camden Hunt’s grasp. My sister, my future, my pride.
He comes back too soon, accompanied by vaguely familiar people. One in particular stands out to me: I’ve seen her naked, her hips high in the air as she screamed, begging for more while men waited in line to defile her.
There’s a reason I chose this woman’s video, among the hundreds I saw. As Camden guessed, I was avoiding Lola’s, but there’s more to it.
This woman—I know her name, now. Juliet.—is magnetic. I played the entire thing, feeling hot and bothered, utterly unlike myself, because her naked, unadorned delight entranced me.
The men with her, Aryan Montgomery and the rest, were no less delighted, which made for the filthiest, nastiest, sexiest thing I’ve ever watched.
Seeing her now, I blush and lower my eyes.
Juliet’s short, five foot two at most, and blonde, with lighter hair than me, and a perfect tan that shows she can afford lounging at the beach rather than working indoors. She must know exactly who I am, and what I threatened to do, but she grins at me, her bright blue eyes friendly.
I expect insults, resentment, threats.
“Hi! You must be Morgan.” She chuckles easily, kissing both of my cheeks. “You’ve seen quite a lot of me, so you can call me Jules.”
