“Why would Violet meet Elliot in Bittrade Coffee of all places?” she muses, wine loosening her tongue.
“How do you know where they met?” I’m quick to say.
For a heartbeat, guilt flashes in her eyes before the mask slides back into place.
“Everyone knows about the photos. You must know how people gossip.”
I tilt my head, letting the silence bite before I answer. “Sure. But nobody knew the location, Millie. Only Devlin, Austin, and me.”
Her mouth opens and closes, words stalling behind the panic. A nervous smile twitches across her lips.
“Violet told me,” she blurts, the excuse tumbling out, messy and unconvincing. “We still speak... now and then.”
Lie.
I lock eyes with her, letting the weight of the moment stretch. She knows I’m not buying it, and I have no intention of pretending otherwise.
The second red flag comes without warning. Mid-sentence, her words falter, face draining of color as her gaze snaps to the entrance. I follow it and land on Elliot Hargreaves, sliding through the door like he owns the place.
Millie stiffens. Elliot sees her first, then me. The smugness I expect doesn’t come — just a spark of recognition, quickly chased by fear.
He drifts toward the bar, deliberately turning his back, but the damage is already done. Millie can’t unsee him. Her nerves fray, her thumb worrying against her lip.
“Perhaps we should go,” she mumbles, her tone brittle. “It’s getting late and...”
I cut her off with a teasing smile. “One more drink, Millie. Then maybe you’d like to come back to mine for a nightcap?”
The change is immediate. Her lips part, eager. “I’d like that.”
When Elliot leaves not long after, hardly touching his drink, her entire body seems to exhale, the tension draining from her limbs. She tips back the last of her wine, her words slurring at the edges.
That’s when I move in.
“So, Millie,” I murmur, watching her closely. “What was it you wanted to tell me about Violet?”
Her smile fades, the act slipping. “Oh. I thought you didn’t want to talk about Violet.”
“I don’t,” I say, voice even, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “But you said you had something to tell me.”
“Maybe we should take this conversation back to your place,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder, her voice dipped in honey. “But first, I need the bathroom.”
My smile feels like broken glass.
“Of course,” I bite out. “I’ll get the bill.”
She slides out of the booth, walking away on unsteady heels, the wine dulling her senses, tossing me a smile like tonight’s going exactly the way she planned.
The second she’s out of sight, I drag a hand down my face, trying to hold back the frustration chewing through me. This night has gone on much longer than I intended, and I’m still no closer to finding Violet.
I wave the server over, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the table. That’s when her phone rattles against the polished wood, skittering toward me. At first, I ignore it until the name flashing on the screen stops me cold.
Elliot.
Instinct takes over. My hand snaps out, answering the call without hesitation.
Elliot’s voice floods the line, sharp and venomous. He doesn’t wait for a hello.
“What are you playing at, Millie? Cozying up to Chase like some desperate little whore. Is this some pathetic attempt to scare me into giving you full payment? I got nothing out of this — no Violet, no Monarch contract. Your objective was clear, and you failed. You’ll get half, and that’s only to keep your mouth shut. Push me again, and I’ll drag you down with me. I’m sure Chase would love to hear how eager you were to frame your buddy.”
