PROLOGUE
KINSLEY
TWO YEARS AGO
Iwave hello to Donald as I walk into the apartment building. The man is in his sixties with bronze skin and kind eyes that see everything that goes on here. He’s stationed behind the desk, and I slip him a candy bar with a wink.
“For my favorite guy.”
“You’re a doll, Miss Dane.”
I stop and we go through the usual banter—soccer, his grandkids, the way he wishes Nessa and I would settle down but not before we win the championship.
He’s watched us play ever since we moved into this building, asking questions about the game until he learned all the rules and knew the stats of all the players on the team. Every year, we try to get him a couple of tickets to see us play, and every time, he brings a big sign with our names on it.
I wasn’t kidding when I said he’s my favorite guy.
“Miss Dane, if you could do me a favor?” His voice is low and my eyes snap to his, his expression serious.
“What’s up?”
He gives a subtle nod toward where the mailboxes are hidden from view. Feminine laughter echoes off the marble wall, and I do everything I can to suppress the wince that threatens at the sound.
“There’s a new kid that just moved in next to you?—”
“Royce.” I nod. “So far, he’s avoided Nessa and me at all costs.”
He chuckles but raises an eyebrow like the reason for Royce’s avoidance is obvious. Maybe it is, but I still like to think I’m approachable. “Two pretty girls are awful intimidating.”
“You’re set on makin’ me blush, aren’t you,” I tease, leaning a hip against the desk.
“Added bonus.” He nods toward the hall again, his tone sobering. “I think some of the girls on the floor below you are givin’ him a hard time over there.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can hear them, and I know he went right there when he came in but…”
I nod. “I’ll take care of it.”
“You’re one of the good ones, Miss Dane.”
“Tell that to the media,” I huff and he chuckles.
“It’ll be the first thing I tell ’em.”
I smile and then turn for the mailboxes, letting the mask I show the world slip into place. I hate the moments I have to wear it here. Nessa and I chose this building for its discretion rather than its connection to the downtown nightlife of Nashville, and more times than not, we can just beus.
But not right now.
“Excuse me, I just…if you could just…if you could just move, I just, just need to get to that one right there,” the male says, his voice rising the slightest bit.
“Can’t you see we’re busy?Youcan come back later,” she says in a snide tone that implies she’d rather he drop dead than spend another minute in her presence. She’s living off Daddy’s dime with a loyal social media following that’s as fake as her boobs.
“Well, that’s just not nice, is it?” I purr in a tone that’s saccharine sweet with a smile to match.
“Who do you think—” the one starts as she turns to look at me. Her eyes widen when she sees who I am.
“He asked you to move, and now I’mtellingyou,” I say, taking a step forward. “Move.”
