We follow her deeper into the space as the music shifts, the bass drops lower, and the vocals all around us turn a bit breathier. A woman brushes past Noah with her hand trailing across his shoulder. She glances back with a smile that makes me want to cause her bodily harm.
“Sorry,” she murmurs, though she doesn’t sound sorry at all.
We reach a corner that’s slightly less populated, although privacy seems to be a relative term here. A couple on a nearby sofa is engaged in activities that would get them arrested in most public spaces, and I try my best not to stare. But really? I don’t think she’s wearing any underwear.
“So,” I train my eyes on Ronnie and do my best to keep them there. “You mentioned earlier that you know where bodies are buried.”
“Figuratively speaking, yes.” Ronnie accepts a glass of wine, as dark as blood, from a passing server who seems to have appeared from nowhere. She takes a slow sip, her eyes never leaving mine. “The Daughters of Honey Hollow are a fascinating collection of secrets and scandals. Vivienne knew all of them. And well, so do I.”
“Like what?” Noah asks. He’s standing so close to me, I can feel the heat radiating off him like a New York sidewalk in July. Someone is starting to sweat. And honestly, it just might be me.
“Go ahead,” I say to the woman. “Fill in a few blanks for me about those women. It’s getting a little hot in here.”
“Oh, I have all the dirt on those women.” Ronnie leans in, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her green eyes. The candlelight makes her skin glow an eerie orange hue. “Like the fact that Vivienne’s mystery man? He wasmarried.Verymarried. And rumor says it was someone whose wife is active in the group.” She lets that hang in the air for a moment. “Whoever this man was, Vivienne spent a lot of time with him. We’re talking late nights, weekend trips, you name it. Good old Vivi was a homewrecker through and through.”
My stomach tightens. “Do you know who this man was?”
“Vivi never said his name. But she loved dropping hints. She loved watching certain women squirm at meetings when she’d make little comments about his dedication and devotion.” Ronnie swirls her wine. “I saw her corner someone at a charity gala back in December. She was one of the picture-perfect types. The woman looked like she’d been crying, and Vivi looked...” She pauses, searching for the word. “Triumphant.”
Everett’s hand finds my lower back. “What else?”
Ronnie purrs his way before she continues. “Vivienne also recently told me that she was going to destroy someone’s carefully constructed perfect life at this event she was about to host. I think she called it a retrospective. Said it would be the most satisfying moment of her career with the Daughters. Someone who’d built their entire identity on a lie was about to have it all come crashing down.” Ronnie’s smile is sharp and dangerous. “She said the woman in question had been paying her to stay quiet, but Vivi was done playing nice. Done letting her play the victim when really she was just pathetic.”
The music swells. Someone laughs, someone screams—high and breathless, and they can’t seem to stop until they hit a crescendo.
“Oh my stars,” I hiss, practically burying my face in Everett’s chest.
“Stay focused, Lottie Lemon,” Percy trills as his glowing feathers seem to take up half the room. “You’re almost at the finish line. I can feel it. Think of the banana pudding!”
I frown his way. He’s not wrong.
“Ronnie, do you know who Vivi was talking about?” I ask.
“I have my suspicions.” Ronnie’s eyes glitter. “But that’s for you to figure out, isn’t it? I will say this—follow the money. Someone’s savings account went from plush to empty in six short months. The woman was making monthly installments like clockwork.”
Before anyone can respond, Carlotta’s voice rises above the music.
“Oh, this is wonderful!”
I turn to see Carlotta has somehow ended up surrounded by three men in various states of undress. One has lost his jacket and most of his common sense. Another has unbuttoned his shirt down to his navel, revealing a chest that’s seen way too much gym time and not enough sunlight. The third is holding two drinks and gazing at Carlotta like she hung the moon and also invented happy hour.
“Carlotta Sawyer at your service, boys,” she belts it out while trailing a finger down one man’s arm. “And you three are exactly my type.”
“Your type is breathing,” I mutter.
A sultry voice cuts through the music. “Ronnie, darling, are you going to introduce us to your delicious friends?” A luscious blonde wearing what amounts to bandages shimmies up to Noah as she says it. “Or are you keeping these gems all to yourself?”
A redhead appears beside her, wearing even less fabric and twice the confidence. The blonde has already claimed Noah with her eyes. The redhead is doing the same to Everett, looking at him like he’s dessert and she hasn’t eaten in days.
“We’re leaving,” Noah says.
“Great,” the blonde chirps while glomming onto his arm. “I’m sure there’s a free bedroom here somewhere.”
The redhead drapes herself on the other side of him. “Why bother with the bedroom when you can have the hall?”
I go to lunge at the hussies just as Everett circles his arm around my waistand pulls me in.
“Noah’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
