“She’ll probably get custody of the kids and take him to the cleaners.” The blonde shrugged. “He won’t have much of anything after she’s done with him.
“I’ll mark him off my list of future ex-husbands.” The brunette grinned and sipped her wine.
“Speaking of—do you have any leads?” The blonde gave her friend a side-eyed glance. “I never thought I’d see the day Alexis Devereaux was celebrating the anniversary of her last divorce without an engagement ring on her finger.”
Oh my god! That’s Alexis Devereaux? I need to get the hell away from here—asap! She is not someone I want to be associated with by accident.
“I’ve got my eye on someone.” Alexis winked at the blonde. “I might even have our first date lined up before the end of the show—which means the countdown to taking him for half of everything he owns can officially begin.”
“Cheers to that.” The blonde tapped her wine glass against the one that Alexis was holding.
Alexis Devereaux was a Carson Cove legend. There were a lot of rumors about her
, and most of them probably weren’t true, but one of them appeared to be—if she was single, she was on the prowl. She had two ex-husbands before she was thirty and had recently divorced the third—people said it was messy. I had no idea how men kept falling into her trap—okay, scratch that—I knew exactly why men kept falling into her trap. She was privileged and gorgeous. That was the perfect combination in Carson Cove, but it helped if you had a side of wicked, and Alexis Devereaux definitely had that.
Oh, thank god. They’re going to get more wine.
I watched as Alexis Devereaux and her blonde friend walked towards the bar—then darted into the gallery. I had already looked at the first section, so I started walking through the second one. I went slow and savored all of the artwork I would never see again. Once the auction was complete, it would be in the home of a privileged family from Carson Cove, and it was rare for them to part with anything—except spouses. I drained my glass of wine fairly quick once I started walking around, but I decided that two was more than enough. I still had to drive home after the show was over. I finished with the second section, moved on to the third, and when I was done with that, it was time to see some of the most expensive pieces that would be auctioned off.
Monet. Rembrandt. Picasso. Van Gogh. Oh my god—is that a real Michelangelo!?
I was literally walking through history. It was breathtaking. I wanted to run up to each masterpiece and stare at it until I memorized every brushstroke—but that would have drawn attention to the fact that I didn’t belong there—so I pretended that I wasn’t impressed. It was one of the most difficult things that I had ever done, but somehow—I made it. I passed the other two students from Carson Cove University that had won tickets, and they weren’t being very subtle, which got them a few disapproving stares from the privileged. I had successfully managed to blend in, and there was enough time to take another tour if I wanted, so I decided that another glass of wine wouldn’t hurt if I was going to be staying for a while.
Oh wow—that’s Mr. Benson. I wonder if I should say hello…
Mr. Benson preferred to be called Bryant—he had told me that at least a dozen times. He was one of the privileged, but he was very down to earth. I knew that because his youngest daughter, Victoria, has been my best friend since elementary school. I never felt like I was just middle class when I hung out at the Benson Estate—they treated me like a member of the family. They even let me go on vacation with them one year when their oldest daughter decided to spend the summer with her grandparents. That seemed like a lifetime ago—when there was a Mrs. Benson—before she decided to leave her husband.
I still don’t know how she could leave someone as amazing as him…
I had a bit of a crush on Bryant when I was younger. He was incredibly attractive—and the touch of gray in his beard had made him even hotter—if that was possible. Just looking at him made my temperature rise and my throat dry out, so I decided to get another glass of wine before I said hello. There was a line, just like the last time, so I waited my turn. It took several minutes to get to the bar, and when I turned back towards Bryant, he wasn’t alone. Alexis Devereaux was standing next to him—no, she was flirting with him. Her hand was on his wrist—she was giggling like a schoolgirl—and I finally understood what it meant when someone said that a woman had fuck me eyes.
Alex Devereaux’s target—is Victoria’s father? Oh my god…