Cherry Creek (13 page)

“Pretty much,” Adelaide says as she bends down and puts a blender away in a lower cupboard.

“Everyone scrambled to put my room together and buy me clothes, all in a matter of a week?” I ask as I turn my gaze down and concentrate on my omelet. I might be pushing too much. I shouldn't have pressed the matter.

I hear Adelaide walk over. “Is something wrong, Livvy? Are things not to your liking?”

I look up and see she's looking at me with questions in her eyes. “Everything is fine,” I assure. “I just...” Words fail me. Adelaide is lying, and I'm hurt by it.
What are these people keeping from me?

“Livvy?”

“Oh! Sorry! I'm just not used to the extravagance that Khristos surrounds himself with.”

She smiles warmly. “You should just enjoy it instead of questioning it.”

“I'm trying.” I feel a sharp pain in my temple, and I can't help but wince. What is up with these headaches?

“Are you in pain?”

“Just a tension headache,” I murmur as I pick up my glass of orange juice.

“Have you been getting them a lot lately?” Adelaide asks, her tone oddly serious.

I look at her and give a slight shrug. “On and off.”

“Let me make you a special tea of mine. It's a natural remedy, it'll help with the pain,” she says as she immediately walks over to a cupboard.

“Oh, you don't have to do that.”

“I don't mind. I promise, it'll help.”

While I eat, I find myself lost in thought as I listen to Adelaide move around the kitchen. I've been trying to figure out what Khristos wants with me, but I keep drawing blanks.

A few minutes later, Adelaide sets a teacup in front of me. I reach out and cautiously sip it, expecting not to like it. But I do. I smile my approval. “This is really good, Addie.”

“I should hope so,” she says dryly as her eyes twinkle at me. “I'm not in the habit of making horrid tasting tea.”

By the time I'm done eating, my headache is gone.

Chapter Eight

By Friday, I'm absolutely frustrated. It's been three days since I hired Sheffield, and I haven't heard from him. Is he even searching for my mom? Maybe I shouldn't have trusted him. The Sheffield situation isn't the only thing that's bothering me. I can't seem to dig up anything on Khristos or Roman. It's like neither of them exist. There's nothing to gain from searching the Internet, and I can't seem to get any information out of anyone that knows them. I've basically reached a figurative dead-end.

All I can do now is wait for Sheffield to contact me. Earlier today, I'd considered dropping by his office to see how the investigation is going, but I hadn't. I'm glad. The last thing I need to do is come off as a pest, especially since he shouldn't even be doing any of this for me. I am going to have to be patient and hope he finds my mom soon.

A knock on my bedroom door startles me out of my thoughts.

Well, that's not good.

Knocks on the door usually mean it's Roman. I've come to know enough about his personality to know that he has no intention of going away until I answer the door. With a resigned sigh, I climb off the bed where I'd been lounging and walk over to the door. I swing it open, not the least bit surprised to find Roman standing there. “Roman,” I say with a hint of dryness in my tone.

“Vee,” he greets as he walks past me and saunters into my room.

I let another sigh escape, not bothering to hide it as I shut the door. I turn around and see that he's standing in the center of my room, arms crossed. His dark hair is slightly wilder than normal, and on him, it gives him a darkly sinister look. Let's face it, the guy is hot, but half the time he resembles a very attractive serial killer with all those wicked smiles that contain a wealth of dangerous promise. I have a feeling that if you piss him off, he won't hesitate to physically hurt you. My eyes drop down to take in his outfit. Gone is the rich playboy. Tonight he wears a dark gray V-neck shirt with some sort of cryptic design. His black jeans fit his frame snugly, and on his feet he wears biker boots that aren't laced all the way up, causing the bottoms of his jeans to rest inside the open flaps.

“Like what you see?” Roman drawls playfully.

“I don't know. Why don't you turn around and walk towards the door so I can see you from the back. If I don't shove you out the door and slam it shut in your face, you'll have my answer.”

His smile widens, and he doesn't seem the least bit perturbed by my cranky mood. “Little Vee's got claws. I like it,” he says before he turns and ambles over to my closet.

I watch in amazement as he opens the door and disappears inside. Of course, I'm going to see what he's up to. I find him ignoring the small rack of clothes that are mine, and instead, he's digging through the expensive clothes that Khristos's girlfriend picked out for me.

My arms fold over my chest. “What are you doing?”

Roman ignores me as he pulls out a slinky, silver dress that sparkles in the light. “Perfect,” he murmurs before he tosses it carelessly over his shoulder. He drops down to one knee and rummages through the shoes I have pulled out of some of the boxes.

Alarm sweeps through me at the thought of him opening all the shoe boxes. If he looks in the very bottom box, he'll find the stash of cash I've hidden. Every day I am stopping by the ATM and withdrawing small sums of cash from the account Khristos set up for me. I'm not sure if he’s watching my bank accounts or not, but I'm guessing it's likely. If I withdraw a large sum like I had earlier in the week to pay for a private investigator, he might wonder what I'm up to.

“These will work,” Roman says as he grabs the strappy, silver heels I'd worn the night Khristos had taken us out to dinner. He rises to his feet, and I move out of the way as he enters my room again.

“I had no idea you have a secret fetish for women's clothing,” I say blandly as I follow behind him.

He sets the dress and shoes on my bed, smirking at me as his eyes gleam deviously. “You really want to know my fetishes?”

“No,” I say warily. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they involve blood or whips and chains. “What's the dress for?”

“You. You're going out tonight. I've tried to be patient, but I'm done. You're too stubborn, and I'm too impatient to wait you out.” He gives me a narrow-eyed look. “Put the dress on and do your hair.”

“Or what?” I challenge.

His eyes drift over my lounge pants and shirt. “Or I'll drag you to Bane as you are.” His eyes hold mine, and there's a hint of warning in their depths. “Trust me, you
don't
want me to do that. It would be wise to make a good impression with my friends and those who might be at the club.”

“If it's that important I make a good impression, you won't drag me there in what I'm wearing,” I point out, calling his bluff. He shrugs and stalks towards me. A squeak of alarm escapes me, and he's on me in an instant, his warm hands wrapping around my hips as he tosses me non-too-gently over his shoulder. I grunt, and then my hands scramble to clutch his lower back to keep myself from slipping further down. “Roman!” I snap with irritation as his shoulder digs into my stomach while he walks to my door. There's a part of me that still believes he's bluffing, because it's evidently important the residents of Cherry Creek accept me. But I'm also realizing that maybe if I go out with Roman, I'll get more insight into the Deveroux men. We're halfway down the hall when I say, “Fine! Put me down!” Roman immediately bends down and slips me off his shoulder. “Asshole,” I mutter under my breath as I stalk back to my room.

Roman's laughter echoes throughout the hallway. “Is that the best insult you can come up with?” he calls after me. I enter my room and slam the door shut. “Be down in the garage in thirty minutes!” he yells.

In response to his demand, I turn to the closed door and flip it off as if it were Roman. I swear, Roman and Khristos have flipped a switch somewhere inside me or something. I am not my usual mild-tempered self around those two. They drive me crazy!

Since I'm already irritated with Roman, I make sure to use the entire thirty minutes he'd allotted me, though in reality, it only takes me ten minutes to get ready. I’m not the type of girl that spends more than a couple minutes on hair and make-up.

Soon, I'm sitting in the passenger seat of Roman's black sports car. “What kind of car is this?” I ask curiously as I settle more comfortably into the luxurious seat.

“Jaguar XK R Coupe. Like it?” he asks as he flips on the brighter headlights as we leave Cherry Creek behind and make our way to Minneapolis.

“It's okay.”

He glances at me in the shadowy darkness of the car's interior. “Turning into a car snob already, eh?”

“No. I'm not big on the Aston Martin, either. They're a little pretentious. I mean, two-hundred thousand for a car? There are so many other things that money could have been put towards. Like useful things, things someone actually
needs
.”

Roman shrugs. “Who cares. In our world, you like it, you buy it.”

“So I've noticed,” I murmur as I turn my head and stare out the window.

“I've noticed that you don't take advantage of our lifestyle. You ignore it most of the time unless it suits your needs. Why is that?” he asks as he thrums his fingers against the steering wheel to some silent melody in his head.

“I grew up poor.”

“All the more reason to spoil yourself.”

“No. Growing up poor makes you work for what you want. It's not just handed to you. I guess some people might thrive in this kind of atmosphere, but I prefer to make my own way.” I tilt my head and study his profile. “Plus, nothing is ever free. Someone always wants something in return,” I say as I watch his reaction.

Roman is silent for a second, then I think I see him frown in the shadows as his fingers quit moving. “You think Khristos wants something from you in return?”

“Doesn't he?”

He turns his head and looks at me briefly. “No. He just wants you happy, Vee.”

I don't buy it, at all. But I don't say anything.

“Is that why you don't take advantage of all the things you could do or have? You're worried Khristos will want something from you?”

I'm betting Khristos will hear about this conversation, so I figure I better back off. “No. As I said before, I want to do things on my own. I like being independent.”

“You can be independently rich,” Roman points out with his usual incorrigible humor.

“I'll stick with slightly rich while earning my own income.”

This causes him to chuckle lowly under his breath. “You're like a little replica of Khristos.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You're just as stubborn as he is. I don't ever want to be in the same room when you two face off. I'd hate to be the collateral damage when the shit hits the fan.”

“Does he get angry very often?” I ask with interest now that the conversation has turned to a topic that I am extremely interested in.

“Only when it's earned.”

“What's he like when he's angry?”

“Angry,” Roman muses dryly.

“I mean, does he yell and throw things?”

“No. The exact opposite. He gets super calm.
That's
when you know you're screwed.”

“Do you get in trouble often?” I can't help but ask.

Roman snickers. “Do I really have to answer such a ridiculous question?”

“Do you ever get grounded?”

“Grounded?” he echoes. Then, he throws his head back and laughs loudly. “That's cute. Is that what your mom did to you,
ground
you?”

I glare at him. “Most teenagers get grounded when they're in trouble.”

He gives me a look. “You don't ground a Deveroux.”

“Then how does he punish you?” I ask as I persist with this conversation.

“
That
is none of your business,” he says lightly.

I can tell the topic is now closed. “So, who am I supposed to impress tonight?” I ask as I tug at the hem of my dress. It keeps creeping up on my thighs. When I glance at Roman as I wait for his answer, I see his eyes automatically shift away from my thighs and back to the road. It's then and there that I feel like my suspicions have been confirmed. Roman's not my cousin. If he was, he wouldn't have been checking me out just now.

“It would be wise to make friends before school starts,” Roman replies in reference to my question.

“Tatum said the same thing. Do I have something to be worried about where school is concerned?”

“Ah, Tate mentioned she dropped in to meet you. What do you think of her?” he asks, ignoring my question.

“She's...different. Do I have a reason to be concerned, Roman?” I repeat.

He looks at me, but it’s hard to read his expression because of the shadows. “Being the new kid usually sucks. Wouldn't it be nice to have friends before school starts?”

I get the feeling there's more to this school 'clique' thing that Tatum mentioned, but I can tell I'm not going to get anything out of Roman.

***

The club is overwhelming. First off, being escorted by a bouncer through the back door as if you're a celebrity is kind of cool. The bouncer never asks for our ID's. In fact, once we we’re inside the club, the bouncer gets on his headset and announces our arrival to someone.

When we enter the main room of the club, my eyes go wide as I look around. The place is huge with a very high ceiling. I see that there are private balconies above, probably reserved for celebrities and such. The strobe lights are crazy as I scan them with interest. There is no simple disco ball. There are huge strobe lights that move and spin, constantly sending streams of light all over the club. The place has a sophisticated look to it, and almost everything is tinted a shade of blue from the lights and the black lights strategically placed.

Roman laughs as he takes in my expression. “C'mon, Vee. You haven't gotten the full effect yet,” he says as he grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd. I try not to stumble in my high heels as I trail behind him, then up a flight of stairs. At the top, I find that we have our own VIP balcony. A long couch is against the wall and there's a glass table in front of it. I recognize Tatum sitting on the couch in a barely there red dress. Nathan is also lounging around, along with another guy that I've never met before.