DECEIT (B723) by Hazel Grace (ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📕

“I guess it’s just me and you, Em,” he emits, closing a step between us. “And you came dressed to kill, didn’t you?” I try to fight back a blush by thinking of something else but fall short. It only causes Bishop’s lips to tug upward.

“The dress was collecting dust,” I reply, while his eyes appreciate my red gown. It embraces every single one of my curves, especially the attribute that Bishop talks about most—my ass. “Let’s take a walk around.”

“I say we do what Marty mentioned,” he states. “Lure the fucker out so we can leave and redo last night.”

His eyes meet mine, and fuck the slight blush, my whole body combusts into a ball of red-hot fire, matching my dress, I’m sure.

“You know we can’t do that.” I steal a glance through the packed room. “Way too many people.”

“And what do you suggest, mastermind?”

“I have a tranquilizer,” I quip. “I need him in a room.”

Bishop lifts a brow. “You want to get him in a room alone?” His blues slice down my frame again. “I don’t think so.”

“I can handle him.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, baby…I know you can.”

“Bish.”

“Mhm?”

“Eyes up here.” He doesn’t right away, enjoying himself and making me antsier by the second with his heated study of me. But when he cuts his focus back up to my face, I continue. “I only need a few minutes.”

He blinks a few times, sorting whatever is going on in his head before he asks but not too happily, “How long does it last?”

“Two hours max, depending on how his body reacts to it.”

“And how do we get him out?”

A smirk graces my features. “Are you a good actor, Bish?” He perks a questioning brow at me. “How would you like to play the man of the house?”

“For what?”

“I call the cops, people leave. You have to answer to the police, though.”

“I can deal with pigs,” he grumbles.

“And I’ll keep the drug dealer occupied until then.” Plucking two champagne glasses off a passing tray, Bishop quashes the rest of the space between us.

“Occupy with him passed out on the fucking floor, right, Ems?” His tone molds into a menacing red flag. That he doesn’t like my idea or the fact that I’ll be alone with anyone, let alone a man.

“Yes,” I agree, aware not to even try to argue with him. Offering him the flute of golden liquid that fizzes along the glass, Bishop makes sure to brush his fingers against mine.

“You win, Ems.”

Write this day down. 

Lifting my beverage, I say, “To the new man of the house. You need to knock down the decor though, it’s too much.”

Taking a sip of the bubbly liquid, Bishop watches me with an expressionless look on his face as he takes one of his own.

“Ready?” Pivoting on my four-inch heels, Bishop faithfully follows.

I know that William Wamkin has sandy blonde hair, is somewhat built, and looks like an entitled prick that’s never done a hard day’s work in his life.

But appearances can be deceiving. I’m living proof of that.

Outside of B723, no one would ever guess that I’ve killed several people in my lifetime. That I can hack into a bank account within three minutes and empty it. How I can hot-wire a car, choke someone out with a Japanese weapon, and climb a roof…with some assistance.

I’m not scared of the darkness of the world, just that I’d lose one of my own to it.

People around us chat with custom drinks as classical music plays softly in the background. You can feel the wealth dripping from the room. The entitlement and power that thickens the air as Bishop and I make our way to the back of the house.

When we get outside to the patio, it gives me an opportunity to study the crowd further. Bishop leans over the railing to view the ocean. The pinks and oranges are beginning to form in the sky over the beautiful darkness of the water.

“There’s a bunch of young dudes to my right gawking at you,” he mutters with his back to the party. “You said he was a dirty blonde?”

“Yep.”

“Mid-thirties?”

“Thirty-two,” I reply over the rim of my glass.

“I have more of a chance than you. He’s closer to my age.”

I scowl. “Are you starting this shit again?”

“He might not be into older women.”

“But he’d be into older dudes?” I steal a glance at him, smirking over his champagne. “Give it a shot. He could be gay.”

“Yeah, but if he touches me, I’ll end up punching him in the throat. You should probably try first.”

“Get lost then, or they’re going to think we’re together.” My eyes lock with a guy with medium-brown hair and George Clooney vibes.

“It won’t stop a dude with money and privilege.“ He turns his body to face me. “And if he’s straight, there’ll be no turning you down in that dress.”

I jerk my head to the side. “Alright…now move, you’re cramping my style. I’ve made eye contact and just demeaned myself by batting my eyelashes.”

I think I hear Bishop chuckle as I make my way back inside the house to make it appear as though he’s either a friend or acquaintance.

The point is to look available.

Discovering Kyson stalking the masses like a shark, his eyes land on me, and I jerk my head slightly for him to come to me.

“What’s up?” he asks. “Where’s Bishop?”

“By the railing. Listen, can you—“

“No, he’s not.” Kyson furrows his brows, and I whip my neck around to find Bishop not in the spot I left him literally thirty seconds ago.

“What the fuck,” I mutter under my breath, scanning the area for him. Then it falls right on the group of men he mentioned was staring at me with Bishop now fraternizing like their old friends. “What is he doing?”

“Socializing,” Kyson answers behind me.

“We both know what that means. He’s going to make a scene.”

“Here? Too risky.” I glance back to find his best friend appearing unfazed at my comment.

“Are