I worried about him. Worried that I’d never see him truly happy. But that all melted away when Halliday came along.
Until the fire at his club. When she was inside it.
“Hey. They’re doing fine now. You said it yourself,” Zoey interrupts me, breaking my thoughts.
“Yeah, they are. I’m going to visit them tomorrow.” I force a smile, thinking how lucky we are that Dad was able to getHalliday out safely. Not like two years ago. He tried to save them both but couldn’t.
“Good. In that case, maybe we should have one more dance.” She raises her brows as a song we both love plays. “We cannot let those guys have all the fun.”
I follow her gaze to the group we’ve come out with, a mix of models, makeup artists, and photographers. One of the male models, Mikey, has taken his shirt off and is encouraging girls to run their hands over his abs. He catches us looking and throws us a cocky wink.
“We need to save those girls from Mikey, you mean?” I snort out a giggle as I let Zoey pull me back toward the dancefloor.
“We need to save Mikey from Mikey.” She laughs.
“Hold up,” I call as my phone buzzes in the back pocket of my pants. I pull it out and bring up the text.
Denver: Do you need a ride home?
I roll my eyes as I punch back my reply.
Me: No. I have my car back.
I groan, pocketing my phone.
“Let me guess? Denver?” Zoey asks.
“Was it the way my face shifted, like I’d just endured the most boring thing in my life, that gave it away?”
She breaks into laughter. “Girl, he’s not that bad.”
“Why don’t you ride home with Mr. Personality and then tell me that again?”
Dad said having a car covered in white Swarovski crystals was a bad idea, but I refuse to admit he was right. It just looks so pretty. It’s not my fault the tiniest little scrape has them pinging off like crazy. But I’m going to be way more careful with it in future. Not only is it a pain being without my car, but it alsomeans Denver ends up being my ride every time it goes into the shop for repairs.
I know Sullivan puts him up to it. Denver couldn’t make it clearer he hates chauffeuring me around. When he gave Mikey and me a ride home last week, he didn’t even speak—just greeted us with a grunt. He’s probably pissed it pulls him away from whatever security stuff my dad always has him doing.
“It’s a ride home. Who cares if he doesn’t talk? Silence sounds like heaven after a night with these guys.” Zoey jerks her head toward the group as we approach.
Mikey pulls me straight into his side, grabbing my hand. “You’ll feel my abs, won’t you, Sin?” He plants my palm over his stomach. “That pure, solid muscle won me the Michael Kors campaign.”
I laugh as Zoey calls him an idiot over the music.
Then I fall back into the beat and let it take me as I dance.
“Holy fuck!” Mikey balks.
I take slow steps toward my car, my legs like jelly in my high heels.
“Lenny! How could they do this to you?” I squeak.
I move closer to my Lamborghini Murcielago and run a loving hand over the white Swarovski crystals on the hood. They’re rough beneath my palm. I swallow a lump in my throat as I take in an area of wrecked bodywork where they’ve been scraped off, leaving the metal beneath shining like an angry slash mark.
“Sin, I’d move your hand?—”
Mikey grabs my hand, pulling it away as I spot the brown lump sitting in the middle of the hood.
“Someone defecated on Lenny!” I screech.
