Wicked Games (Hartley Grace Featherstone Mysteries Book 3) by Gemma Halliday (books for students to read TXT) 📕

talk at an assembly about young people in business." She shook her head. "He was such a geek then."

I thought of the pictures I'd seen online of Simon. He'd seemed pretty cool to me, but maybe my standards were different than a model's.

"Anyway," she said, continuing, "I didn't start seeing Connor right away. I was a cheerleader back then." She gave me a knowing look like I should understand exactly what that meant.

Sadly, I did not. "So, cheer kept you too busy to date…?" I guessed.

She laughed, picking at her manicure. "Well, yeah, I guess. But I mean, Connor wasn't my type, you know? I mean, I usually dated guys who were, like, ripped. Into sports, you know, more like manly types?"

Sam nodded. "I feel ya. My boyfriend plays rugby."

"Right?" Sophia said. "So, like, yeah. I turned Connor down when he asked me out the first time. But, you know, he was cute. And persistent."

Not to mention owned his own successful business. I wondered what his net worth had been back then. Clearly more than a high school cheerleader. The cynic in me wondered if Sophia finally going out with Connor had been less about him wearing her down and more about her realizing he could be a millionaire before thirty.

"Things were good between you, then?" I asked.

"Of course," she said quickly. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"No reason," Sam covered for me. "I mean, it just must have been hard with both of your busy schedules. I imagine modeling takes up a lot of your time."

I shot her a thankful look. Nice save, Sam.

"It does," Sophia agreed, her expression softening again. "But we made the time for each other." She took in a deep, shuddering breath, the grief of losing him seeming to come in waves.

I was about to ask more about their relationship, but before I could, Sophia jumped suddenly to her feet, causing me to flinch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or eat? Some friends have already stopped by with food. I thought that was something only old people did—bring food when someone has passed away. Anyway, there's a ton, and I don't know what to do with it, and well…" She wrung her hands, and it appeared that her emotions were getting the best of her.

"I could use a bite," Sam piped up. She gave me a shrug, and I couldn't tell if she was truly hungry or wanted to appease our hostess.

Sophia looked relieved, as if grateful to be doing something. Or maybe she was trying to prolong the company. No one wanted to sit in their misery alone. "Come into the kitchen," she said, leading the way.

The kitchen was small but tricked out in lots of granite and stainless steel. A large peninsula jutted into the center, and four wooden stools sat around it. Sam and I sat on ones facing the shiny, new-looking appliances that I doubted got much use. Sophia opened her fridge and placed a tray of ready-made turkey and ham sandwiches, a quart of potato salad, a fruit basket, and a tin of brownies down in front of us. After grabbing some plates, utensils, and three bottles of sparkling water, she sat down on the other side of the counter, across from us.

I looked from the spread to her size two figure. I'd expected a tray of celery and carrot sticks with a side of iceberg lettuce. This did not strike me as model food.

"Help yourself. I'll never eat this," she confirmed, her voice wavering on the last word.

"I can't imagine what you're going through," I said, grabbing a sandwich and a brownie. I hadn't experienced much personal death in my life, let alone losing someone that close to you. I knew what breaking up with a boyfriend felt like—that I had experienced, and it hadn't been pretty. In fact it had ended in a dead body, but that was a whole other story. "This must be really hard for you," I told her, trying to find the right words to express my sympathy.

Sophia lowered her head and whispered, "Thank you."

She and I sat in a moment of silence while Sam scooped potato salad onto her plate.

Then Sophia raised her head and took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were moist and red, and I could tell she wasn't wearing any makeup. Though, even without it she was stunning, her eyes an exotic pale blue beneath fashionable thick dark eyebrows. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the corner of her eyes, clearly a much prettier crier than I was.

"It's going to be so weird without him," she said. Her eyes took on sort of a far-off look.

"You were at the convention yesterday, too, right?" I asked. "I think I saw you there?"

Sophia nodded. "I was there to support Connor. You know, with the new game launch."

"Athena's Quest," I said. "I've heard about it."

"Everyone has heard of it," she said. "Connor was a whiz at publicity." She picked up a brownie but instead of actually eating it, just started crumbling little bits onto her plate.

"I assume you didn't see what happened to him?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I went to the restroom. When I came back, I found him…"

I cringed. I'd had no idea she'd been the one to actually find the body. I knew firsthand how jarring that could be. "I'm so sorry," I said for what felt like the hundredth time.

Sophia closed her eyes, as if trying not to picture the scene. "I don't think I'll ever get the image out of my head."

Sam set her fork down, looking like she'd lost her appetite.

"The police were here, you know," Sophia said, her voice soft.

I tried to picture Raley in her pristine white living room. I wondered if Sophia had offered him lunch too. Knowing