Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 68858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Melody flashed me a sad smile. She looked gorgeous tonight. Her makeup was flawless, and she’d let her dark hair down. “I know you wanted to protect us from this, but if you ever got caught up in something we’d be right there with you, Lena. This is the last thing you need to deal with alone.”
“I can drink to that!” Peyton agreed loudly, clinking his glass against hers.
He took a generous swig and made a face, shaking his head from side to side. I laughed and took a sip from my straw, savoring the taste of Bacardi and Coke. He slammed his glass down and leaned closer, so he didn’t have to speak so loudly to be heard. Melody did the same so she could hear what he was saying.
“Mateo knows Eva isn’t dead, and if by some slim chance, he doesn’t know who put the hit on your aunt and why Eva’s missing, he can easily find out.”
“My money is on him already knowing. I would be shocked if he didn’t have her exact location,” Melody speculated. “I don’t think someone can piss in this city without him knowing.”
I frowned, considering their words. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t already thought of myself. It was both nice to hear my suspicions confirmed and a little terrifying. “But why help me?”
Peyton blew out a harsh breath. “That’s the question of the hour, isn't it? I don’t get his stake in all this. Your family doesn’t have anything that would benefit him, not even a bowl of sugar. No offense.”
“None taken,” I assured him. “It’s not like I haven’t noticed. What can I do, though? Grandma is old. My parents are gone. My uncle Slim and his son are gone. My uncle Luis is here but I’d be better off making nice with a snake than trusting him. The Castello lineage is practically non-existent. I’m beginning to feel like me and my sister are the only two left.”
As I finished speaking, Peyton abruptly sat straighter, his gaze sweeping over our surroundings. “What is it?” I looked around but didn’t spot anything that caused alarm.
“Do you see something?” Melody slid closer, angling her body towards mine as if it could be a shield.
“Oh, shit. No. I was making sure we were good. No one eavesdropping or paying too much attention.”
“Goddamnit, Peyton.” Melody deflated and grabbed her drink.
He waved her off and leaned in again, but this time there was a noticeable change in his demeanor. “I’m an idiot. Your family does have something he’d want.”
“Fuck,” Melody cursed, catching on before I did. “Now I feel dumb.”
“What is it?” I glanced between them. When neither gave an immediate response, I got the hint. “No. No way.”
“Yes, way,” Melody rebutted. “Your family has one last trump card, Elena. You.”
“No,” I continued to deny. “I’m nothing.”
Peyton jerked his head back as if I'd struck him and scowled. “What the fuck? Never say that again.”
I sighed, having deja vu of the conversation we’d had the day of Aunt Molly’s funeral.
“I don't mean it like that, but we have to be realistic. I know next to nothing about this world anymore. I have no power, no connections, save for you two. All I've got is my father's name. No matter what you or anyone else says, if he wanted a Castello daughter it should have been—is Eva. This world was better suited for her,” I reasoned, hating that some of my old insecurities crept into my tone.
Peyton’s angry scowl morphed into a sympathetic one, which was even worse. “Your sister…” he shook his head.
“Your sister was--is off the rails,” Melody finished bluntly. “You’ve always been more like your parents, Lena. I know it may hurt to hear, but like you just said, it's better to tell the truth.”
I took a breath, and then another, struggling against the urge to cry. I wasn’t ready to have this kind of discussion, yet I knew everything they were saying held more than a bit of validity. I stood and began to squeeze out of the circular booth. “I need to use the restroom.”
“I’m coming with you,” Melody declared, leaving no room for argument.
I nodded and headed for the staircase, making sure I didn’t lose her in the crowd once we got down to the lower level. It was a major design flaw that restrooms weren’t available on the upper floor unless you booked one of the actual VIP rooms versus a booth. You shouldn't have to be drunk and close to pissing yourself while looking for a damn toilet.
“Stay close,” I shouted over the music as I grabbed her hand. The bass was so strong it vibrated through my heels.
When we finally reached the lady's room, there was a small line. We stood together, huddled shoulder to shoulder.
Melody leaned in and spoke in my ear, the scent of vodka on her breath. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”