by L. J. Woods
“Where’s Ray?”
“With Lexi. Where’d you go yesterday?” I open the door enough for Perez’s wide body to fit through before I slam it behind him. Locking it.
Rubbing my nose, I meet his eyes. “I’m fucked.”
“Yeah man, your eyes look like black holes.” He stretches his lids with his fingers but I’m not amused.
I need Perez a little more fucked up than this if I’m going to get him on board. So I hop over to the piano and grab the hundred-dollar bill. “Come on.”
He eyes it, hesitating. “I got practice tomorrow, I—”
“Perez, this might be one of the last times we do this together.” I meet his gaze, my heart pumping against my chest. “I need this.”
He hesitates before he sighs like I’m asking him to commit—never mind.
Pacing the edge of the silk rug, I wait for him to grab a line. “You can’t keep using that excuse,” he says, bracing himself against the wood.
“Works every time.” I gesture for him to do another but he cocks his brow, stepping back.
“Is that what this is about? Your trial?” I’ll never get used to hearing that. “You know you’ll get off. There’s no way they’ll let you go down. You’re a Johnson. A legend. A fucking King.” The arrogance in that sentence lets me know he’s hit a high.
So I drop the bomb. “Lexi knows.”
Perez stalls before he knocks back that second line. He blinks as it hits him. “Alright." His head bobs quickly like a dribbling ball. "How did you find out?”
“She found it. I didn’t tell her what happened but if this shit gets out …” Remembering the warmth of her body makes my skin boil. “She’s gonna ruin me. She made that very fucking clear. Does Ray know yet?”
It’s only a matter of time before she tells her bestie. Perez might trust his girlfriend but at the end of the day, she’s still the outcast from the other side of the tracks.
She doesn’t belong here. Just like Lexi.
His hand goes to the back of his neck like he’s processing it all. “Nothing. I mean, she’s asked about it but I didn’t tell her anything. Promised you guys I wouldn’t. What’re you gonna do?”
“We have to kill her.” I shrug, meeting his eyes. They narrow and he’s about to speak before I cut him off. “It’s a joke.”
“You tell King?”
My head whips to my phone on the big round bed. “Not yet,” I say, grabbing it.
It takes a couple of tries, Perez and I making lines disappear before finally, Damien King answers in the usual King fashion. “I’m busy.”
“Are you on the phone?” Jo, his girlfriend’s voice, comes through the speaker.
“Shut up and take what’s yours,” King’s voice gets deeper. Huskier.
I whip my head to Perez who’s already looking at me with a shit-eating grin. We can't help but snort out a laugh, powder still under our noses.
Perez speaks through his chuckles, a slapping coming through the phone. “Maybe we should call—”
“No, you fuckheads called me five times,” King grunts. “This is clearly what you wanted. So what the fuck is it?”
“Lexi knows,” I sit closer to the phone, glancing at the door. “About Marion.”
"What?!" Jo's voice is first before the slapping stops.
A shuffling comes through the phone and there’s some commotion as I rack up another line. King comes back. “The sound in your voice and your basic bitch calling tells me this is a problem. Correct? And it better fucking be because I was about to nut so deep in—”
“It’s a problem.” Perez holds up his hand as if he doesn’t want to hear the rest.
I can’t help but chuckle. Is this idiot still pining over Jo?
King sighs, almost like his father did when he was alive and disappointed in everything his son does. If he could see him now.
The tinkering of ice comes through the line. “You need to know everything about her,” King says. “And I mean everything, Johnson. Don’t leave a fucking gap. And when you do have everything, that’s all the ammo you’ll need. Use it wisely.”
CRASH!
“Shiiit, baby.”
Dad’s platinum record falls off the nail, crashing to the wooden floor. Holding onto the wall, my legs are as wobbly as my vision.
I meant for the bit of ket I did to chill me out. But this might be a little too chill.
When I look up, people in fancy cocktail dresses and designer suits (none as good as mine) stare at me. “My Brad,” I chuckle, using my velvet Gucci loafer to push it to the side.
“He means his bad,” Perez's voice comes from behind me, reminding me my best friend is still by my side.
I wrap a lazy arm around him and he steadies my sway as my eyes catch the eye of the server I had on my cock in. Before Lexi walked in. Before I came looking right into those dazzling, curious eyes and something tells me Lexi liked every bit of it.
Shaking her out of my head, I wink at the server whose name I’ve already forgotten. Beckoning her over with a crook of a lazy finger, my eyes threaten to close but I blink them open. “Clean this up, and I’ll be sure to fuck you later.”
“He means, thank you later,” Perez corrects again, trying hard to stifle his laughs.
Alright, we smoked a couple of joints too.
Needless to say, we’re pretty fucked up.
The crowd starts to whisper as her cheeks turn as red as her hair but she moves towards me. When she gets on her knees I don’t realize I thrust at her face until Perez stops me.
“Woah, alright!” Perez pulls me to the side, lowering his voice. “You sure you wanna be here man? Right now?”
It was easy to lose track of how intoxicated I am while the guys and I scoured our resources for everything Lexi. But I have no time to sleep this off, the clock is ticking.
“We’re all smear …” Nope, that’s not the word. “Here to celebrate. So let’s celebrate.” Even though they're about to lock me away for the rest of my adult life.
Alright, so Lexi isn’t the only reason I’m neck-deep in the party supplies. But if I don’t fix this, things will only get much worse. For me.
Stumbling towards the server stationed by the door, I grab a couple of glasses and down them both before I grimace.
“What the fuck is this? I thought Lionel Johnson knows how to party in style.” Snapping my fingers towards the kitchen I get the attention of a caterer. “Send in the Dom, will you? Vintage.”
“Isaac!” Squinting through the fog, a blurry image of Cassandra Lyon appears in view. She stands in the middle of the living room in a feathery gown between my dad and her.
Lexi's eyes narrow when she sees me. My eyes fall to the wrinkles in her dress caused by our interaction in the bathroom. That makes the heat rise to the surface of my skin again before a wide smirk spreads across my face. When Carter Cole appears by her side, my smile disappears.
“What are you wearing?” Cassandra asks.
Right. I almost forgot I swapped my Givenchy for my red silk robe when I got too hot in my room. It’s much more comfortable when I’m this wasted.
“Shouldn’t you be asking that to your daughter?” A server hands me the bottle of Dom and a glass as Carter wraps an arm around her waist. “Like mother like whore I suppose. Nice tits, Cassandra.” I tip the bottle to my dad, his tired eyes narrow my way, but he just sighs. Discipline? That’s not his thing. Neither is parenting. “Good job, Dad. You were always the type for bimbos. Can I get the sabre? We’re doing this right.”
Lexi glares at me as the server hands me a long knife with a small curve and a shiny wooden handle. Taking a step towards her, she takes a step back as I flip the long sword around my finger. “So how about a toast?”
Cassandra’s face is as red as her daughter’s. “Isaac …”
“No, not to me,” I chuckle, the room tilting around me as I move towards them. “To Lionel Johnson’s new family. Out with the old and in with the new, right?”
Lexi takes a step back when I’m in her space again, and when I bring the knife to meet her eyes, she flinches when I take a swing.
POP!
The cork flies out, champagne pouring over the spout and all over her dress. The fizzy liquid cascades down her chest and into that tight cleavage. The rest pours onto her designer shoes and if I know anything about Burmese silk that shit’s never coming out.
“Don’t worry, Lexi," I say. "Daddy will buy you new shoes. That’s why you’re here, right? To find your new daddy?”
“Isaac …” My dad finally speaks as Lexi’s hands come to my chest.
I must be lit off my ass because that’s enough to send me tumbling to the floor in laughter. The crowd around us chatters, Jorja Smith's "A Prince" the background music to the chaos I’ve created.
Someone grabs my arm on one side, someone else on the other. Their hold helps me stagger to my feet but I shrug them both off before realizing it’s Perez and his girl.
“Looks like I hit a nerve.” I smile, titling the champagne bottle to my mouth.
“Isaac, a word,” Cassandra says through gritted teeth as cameras shoot off around us. “Please.” She grabs my arm, trying her best to tug me through the door. These muscles aren’t for show but I'm too fucked up to fight back as I stumble over my loafers.
My back slumps against a wall as the room around me blurs. Blinking, a dim light shines down on us. Looking behind Cassandra, I see the shiny vintage opium bed and the fireplace in the plant-filled room.
I chuckle, taking another glug of Dom. “The Zen Room? You’re kinkier than I thought, Cassandra Lyon.”
The bottle disappears out of my hand.
SMASH!
And when she gets in my face, I realize she’s the one who pulled it away. “The Isaac Johnson show is over.”
I bite my lip, egging her on as I zero in on that rack. I haven’t spent much time with Cassandra but no wonder my dad brought her home. “Oh, baby, it’s far from over.”
SLAP!
The sting of her hand stays on my face but the tingles only make me laugh, my head falling against the wall. Getting the Lyons out of here might be easier than I thought.
“It’s over when I say it’s over,” she says. “I’m the one with your future in my hands.”
“Unless my future is my cock, I have no idea what you’re on about.”
“You better play nice because I’m the one who can get you off the trial.” Her sobering words hit me like a truck. The smirk slipping from my face makes hers wider. “I came across a piece of evidence that puts you at the head of that murder. Now, I don’t know if that’s true and I don’t care, but a bloody thong from your ex-girlfriend doesn’t look good for you.”
Pushing myself off the wall, my eyes narrow.
Lexi.
I should’ve put a stop to this sooner.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” I repeat what my lawyer told me but I won’t repeat the rest. That my chances are slim. That the justice system only weighs the evidence and the evidence Cassandra has is pretty fucking convincing.
She shrugs before she gives a haughty laugh. “And you think they’ll believe you? The boy who crashes his father’s party hopped on whatever the fuck it is you kids are doing these days?" She peers into my eyes. “My daughter taught me well.” She looks to the ceiling in thought. “Or did I teach her?”
“Where did you find it?” I ask, straightening my stance but failing. I’m trying not to let her know how shook I am but I don’t think it’s working. “This evidence. Who gave it to you? Did you find it?”
“Like a good journalist, I can’t reveal my sources.” But that confirms that there is a source. Her daughter. “My guy at the lab traced the blood to Marion Roy. Ring a bell?” Her name makes my jaw clench. “Thought so.”
“I didn’t confirm anything.”
“Doesn’t matter. I have the power here, Isaac. All it takes is a call.”
“Fuck you, Cassandra.” My giddy high changes to sheer anger and now she’s the one who’s laughing.
“No need to get hostile, you’ll be fine. As long as you play my game. I only need insurance. I’m tired of having the rug pulled out from under me.”
“So what the fuck does that have to do with me? You’re engaged to my dad, isn’t that what you want?”
“Not if you keep being …” She looks down at my robe. “You.”
“What do you want?”
“You’ll see. For now, change into something more appropriate and try some more cocaine. I know that sobers you up.” She walks towards the door, eyeing my outfit with a scoff. “ You know you’re not so different from my daughter, you’re both messy.” She wiggles her fingers like we’ve just had brunch. “Your life is in my hands, Isaac.” Her heels click down the halls—my heartbeat with each clack.
Lexi fucked me and not in the way I want.
So for that, she has to pay.
Five
Lexi
“Lexi!”
Someone bellows my name and it's too growling to be my mom as I swallow hard on the fancy canape.
His voice is much stronger, commanding, the ‘x’ in my name coming out like smooth honey.
Isaac approaches me, his crumpled blazer hanging off his rigid muscles as he storms towards the kitchen. When he's in front of me, eyes red and dilated, that bittersweet smell turns acidic and smokey. Like scotch.
When my eyes lock with his menacing stare, he grins. “It’s time we talk.”
Fuck. This is what I get for eating carbs.
Glancing back at my mom and Lionel, they’re laughing with some guests in the living room. Carter mingles with the Eden crowd.
“Shouldn’t we get back to the—Isaac!” I squeal, his fingers digging into my arm. Goosebumps rise on my skin as he takes me over to the big glass door and pushes me inside.
My back hits the shelf of vintage wine, bottles clinking from his rough handling. When the door closes, all the noise from the party stops.
And I’m alone with him.
With his golden eyes and his ripple pecs.
His intoxicating smell and that mischievous grin.
He towers over me with power and dominance. And I never know what he’s going to do next.
I hate that it excites me.
My heart pounds against my chest like I’ve taken as much blow as he has before I push out my words. “What are you gonna do? Murder me?”
“Something like that.” His grin grows and the room gets smaller. “And don’t worry, no one can hear you scream. This cellar is bulletproof, bomb-proof and soundproof.” He lowers his stance to my level, reaching out a hand.
I flinch.
But he doesn't touch me. Instead, he grabs a bottle of wine off the shelf behind me.
The air between us thickens as he pulls down a couple of glasses. I don’t know what Isaac’s next plan is. He’s unpredictable. Dangerous.
So I don’t expect him to hand me a glass filled to the brim with red wine.
“I don’t want to drink with you.” To be honest, I've had enough trying to get through this party and we all know what happens when I over-indulge.
“You mean you want something harder to get you through this shit show of a night?” He clicks his glass to mine, red liquid rolling over the brim and threatening to ruin yet another dress.
After spewing champagne over the first one, I opted for an ivory off-shoulder bodycon, ruched and ruffled. Yes, this colour is a 'fuck you' to my mom.
“Wine’s fine.” I hold it away but he brings his cold hand against my warm fingers and lifts the glass to my lips.
“You’re gonna need a lot of it for what I’m about to say.” He still has that stupid sloppy smile on his face but I can’t make out what it means. “Careful. You don’t want to ruin this for your mom, do you? Play it cool and I'll let you make it out of here alive.”
Fuck it. I gulp the wine down as he waves at someone with their camera pointed at us. The flash goes off as
his lips come to my cheek. The shock through my skin startles me, the wine splashing against my chest and … all over my ivory dress.
Isaac chuckles as heat rises to my cheeks. “Don’t you know not to mix red and whites? Lexi, you’re nothing but an amateur. You think you fit in when it’s clear that you don’t.”
“Listen, Isaac …” The room dims, and when I try to straighten out, blinking, my legs feel wobbly. Like limp noodles. “What—”
“Woah, Lexi.” Isaac’s arm comes around my waist, my body stiffening. How can his hold feel both comforting and uneasy? “Looks like I’m not the only one who likes to party.”
My head a daze, the room feels like I’m on a cloud. “I’ve only had—” His finger grazes my thigh, a small gasp escaping me. Tingles climb up my spine as he pushes the side of the split in my dress to the side. Our shoulders touch, so I’m not sure if it’s clear to anyone else that his hand is climbing up my leg. But it doesn’t feel like it's only his hand, it’s something else. Something cold, but soft. Something familiar. “What are you—”
“You did a fucking good job doing what you do," he growls in my ear. My panties tug to the side before something lands between my legs. Whatever he’s holding slides between my lips like butter and … I hope he can't tell how wet I am. How fucking easy I am. “But now it’s my turn to play.” He reaches into his blazer pocket, pulling out a silk handkerchief. Then he wipes at my swaying wine-drenched body, smiling for the cameras.
What they don’t see is how hard he presses into me, and the way he pinches my nipple puckered against the soft fabric. “You wanted a war. Now you have one.”
My hand comes to his chest but I’m thrown off when something slips inside me. I gasp, my eyes popping open as my soaking centre accepts it all. I don’t realize how hard I’m gripping his blazer until he pushes me off.
“Isaac, what the fuck?!” As I'm reaching between my legs, the door swings open, the noise of the party all coming back at once.
Fuck.
“Lexi!”
Now that’s my mom.
My hand drops.
“What are you two doing in here?” Mom asks. “Come on.”