American news.
Southern California news, to be exact.
I sat at the outdoor table eating a loaded turkey club sandwich stacked high with bacon and avocado.
A bowl of homemade chips sat beside it.
Sparkling strawberry water fizzed in the glass next to my plate.
The TV volume shifted slightly, and a news anchor’s voice sharpened.
“…breaking updates in an ongoing homicide investigation for entrepreneur and mayor in the running Micheal Vale, and celebrity palates instructor Lyric Banks …”
My hand paused halfway to my mouth.
On the screen were two photos.
A man.
And a woman.
The woman was pretty and had brown skin.
Blonde hair.
I didn’t recognize either of them.
“…authorities say the woman was reportedly one of billionaire Ares Delacroix-Jackson’s many girlfriends…”
I raised an eyebrow.
“…both victims were found deceased several weeks ago. The FBI has now entered the investigation and is actively searching for the killer…”
Right then, the elevator opened.
Ares stepped into the penthouse like the news had summoned him.
His eyes flicked toward the television for half a second before he walked straight out onto the balcony.
I leaned back in my chair.
“They just showed one of your girlfriends.”
He didn’t even blink.
“Said she’s dead.”
Instead of answering that, he looked down at my plate.
“That sandwich doing you good?”
I laughed.
“Yeah.”
He leaned against the railing casually. “I’m taking you out for a nice dinner tonight.”
I frowned slightly.
