“Have you seen her Maserati? Did she say she’d let you drive it if you fucked her well?”
What Masera—
The night I met Liza. There was a Maserati in the parking lot.
Dorothy continues, an ugly sneer edging her tone. “You actually thought you were good enough for her? She’s going to marry Nate Sterling. Their families are already making arrangements.”
Bullshit. A girl about to marry someone else wouldn’t have been like that with me…
“At least you won’t look too terrible in orange. You have the right coloring.”
This is all Dorothy’s fucked-up poison. She’s out of targets, so she wants to drag me down.
“You’re lying,” I say flatly. “Liza would never betray me.”
“Oh, she most certainly would, to have the DA’s office look the other way. She’s no angel, you know.” Dorothy chortles. “As soon as things are sorted out here, she’s leaving for Italy. What? You thought you mattered? Please.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” I spit, my jaw muscles tight.
“Do you honestly think you have any power over anything?”
I take a step forward. Her throat works, a sliver of fear passing through her eyes before she catches herself. She holds her chin high, even though it’s quivering slightly. “I can’t wait until you’re in prison, where you belong.” Forcing a cackle, sh
e spins and leaves.
The horrible laugh rings in my ear even though she’s gone. I slam the door, then kick it.
I start shaking so hard that I have to lean against the back of the couch for support. My knees feel like water, and nausea roils in my gut, a bitter sour taste on my tongue.
I inhale and exhale a few times, trying to process everything. I hate this, I so fucking do, but my gut tells me Dorothy’s right. If I’d been thinking more clearly, I would’ve realized what Liza really was back at the bar when she gave me that line about her friends leaving her stranded. There were other signs, too: how she called Gavin by his first name; how she fumbled a little when I asked her how she knows him. She implied she works at a café near OWM, but does she really? If she’s an heiress, it explains the dresses she brought for Kristen.
No more thinking with my dick. No more believing Liza is innocent just because that’s what I want to believe. Maybe…just maybe…Dorothy’s lying about Liza’s willingness to testify against me, but it’s more likely Liza did something really stupid, something she doesn’t want her parents to know about. That would put her in Dorothy’s power, and I have no objective evidence telling me I can trust Liza with something as important as my future and my sister’s wellbeing.
If I go to prison, Dorothy will take Kristen. I don’t understand her obsession, but she seems determined to tear my family—what’s left of it—apart.
And I know she’s going to make Kristen’s life hell.
I have to protect my sister.
How?
I tunnel my fingers through my hair as panic, anger and self-recrimination churn through my mind, turning everything into a mess. Think. Think!
Fuck!
I smash my fist against the cinderblock partition between the kitchen and the living room. The impact reverberates all the way to my shoulders. My hand throbs, knuckles skinned and bleeding. But it feels good to have the pain to bring my spiraling thoughts together. I have no one to turn to. The woman I love with all my soul is a viper. And I can’t even run.
Pressing my hands around my temples, I bend forward. A low groan tears from my throat.
Then, in the first time since forever, I pray for a solution.
Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth
The Civic screeches to a halt in front of Dominic’s place. I fumble with the keys he gave me, unlocking the door.
Please, please.