It seemed she was quick to stop calling metheosnow, wasn’t she? The bitter-hearted thought amused me enough that a nearly imperceptible smirk tugged at my lips.?
Behind me, the sound of her hands hitting the bars would have been gratifying if not for the fact that I was walking towards the woman who had been one of Little Miss Cupid’sperfectmatchmaking skills. I had been the collateral damage.
Stepping out of the room, the door shut with a quiet click. As I crossed the threshold and stepped out into the hallway, my apparel shifted back to something more put-together. A pair of steel-grey slacks and a navy button-up, concealing all evidence of the tattoos that lingered beneath the fabric.
I adjusted the collar, primarily out of habit, as I descended the grand staircase.
Pia’s hand pounded on the door with the patience of a woman with too much money and too little time. Apparently, her loathing of the doorbell overrode the convenience of pressing a button.
Small victories remained intact.
Eryx—three hundred and seventeen.?
Pia—one.
A petty one at that. She had blessed my vintage sports car with a broken bottle of whiskey the day after our first divorce hearing.
Not that I was keeping score.
Approaching the front door, I saw Jamie step out from the sitting room to the right with the intention of bearing the initial brunt of my ex-wife’s rage. I waved him off—no need to inflict Pia’s presence on more souls than necessary.
I paused, bracing myself for half a heartbeat, before I opened the door. In typical fashion, Pia didn’t wait before gliding past me. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor, her chin held high as she entered the foyer like she still owned the place.
With a gentle push, I shut the door and turned to see her studying the entranceway. Folding my arms in front of me, I waited for her to announce the intentions behind her unexpected visit.
She turned in a steady circle, the modest length of her dress’s skirt fluttering around her knees, before she stopped to face me. Pia’s white-blonde hair was pulled in a bun so tight that not a single strand dared to break formation. Her manicured fingers plucked her designer sunglasses off her face with elegance and grace that mirrored centuries of being the most popular rich brat on the block.
Absentmindedly, she bit down on the temple tip ofthe frames as she surveyed the open area. Removing the hard plastic from between her teeth, she gestured vaguely around her.
“You do more work in here again? Something’s… different.”
Pia didn’t bother hiding the suspicion or judgment in her tone.
I shrugged. “I like switching things up now and again. Keeps things fresh.”
Her dark violet eyes met mine, looking for clues that I wouldn’t allow her to see.
Stepping closer, Pia pinned me with a look that could put some prosecutors to shame. Too bad she never entered the legal field. Her love for assaulting the olfactory senses of socialites everywhere was her true calling. Designer fragrances for the wealthy. All of which smelled like superiority complexes masking raw sewage if you asked me.
Taking a dramatic sniff of the air surrounding her, Icantedmy head to one side in response to the scented notes coming off her. “Is that last season’s Consort Eau de Parfum I smell?” I smirked and tucked my hands into my pockets. “Scandalous,” I said mockingly.
“Have company over, Eryx?” She went straight for the jugular. Figured.
Feigning casualness, I shrugged. Didn’t confirm or deny.
Her eyes narrowed on me then as shestepped even closer, tapping my chest with her folded sunglasses. “The pickup out front. Not your aesthetic.”
She wasn’t wrong. I liked to seat myself in small things that made my blood sing.?
Bitterness laced my reply, “What would you know about where my interests lie, Pia?”
Waving her hand dismissively, clearly already moved on from this line of questioning. “Doesn’t matter. Have your manservant prepare us lunch.”
I laughed humorlessly at her demand as she was already striding out of the foyer towards the back of the house.
“I’m in the middle of something, Pia,” I stalked after her.?
Without turning around to acknowledge me, “Indeed. Having lunch with your ex-wife.”
