Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 168980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
“Yeah. But the moment your dad says one snide thing to you, he’s gone.”
“I’m good with that.”
I smile wide. “You both are kinda fucking hot when you’re compromising.”
“Kinda hot?” Banks laughs, his eyes making sweet fucking love to me.
“Understatement of the century,” Akara smiles, giving me a sexy onceover.
I burn up in my glitzy silver jumpsuit. Take it off. I imagine myself stripping bare in front of them, but I don’t yet.
My gaze pings around the green cupboards and fridge. It’s just us three here. Despite the fight and newest leak, my roommates are still at the charity event, hopefully having a rad time. I ask, “Nothing anyone said in this kitchen was recently leaked, right?”
“Yeah, theoretically, the kitchen is clear,” Akara tells me, his hands loosely gripping the counter behind him. Banks has his buff arms threaded casually over his chest.
I try not to check them out because I am interested in how secure the penthouse really is. “What do you mean theoretically?”
“Play music,” Akara insists.
I grab my phone and switch on my most-listened-to playlist. “MMMBop” by Hanson is the first song and becomes decently loud background noise. “Is this supposed to drown out any mics?”
“Theoretically,” Akara says.
I cringe. “I’m not sure I fucking like theoretically.”
Akara smiles. “I have a gut-hunch, Sul, but there is no solid evidence to support the penthouse being bugged. We’ve swept this entire place over and over, almost daily at this point.” He also reminds me that the ploy for Thatcher and Jane to spread lies in each individual room didn’t go down well.
None of the lies were leaked.
Banks thinks they were too mild. Things like Jane Cobalt refuses to attend her brother’s ballet performance tomorrow night.
For the most part, the mole likes salacious headlines. But to construct a salacious lie could hurt Jane, and I’m glad they didn’t go too far. Even if it could’ve helped catch this asshole.
Everything points towards one of my roommates leaking info to a mole. But that can’t be right. Moffy, Jane, Luna, Thatcher, and Farrow would never. Some of the leaks are things they’d never even want blasted to the media.
They have zero fucking motive.
So I understand why Akara is still set on the “bugged” theory, even if there isn’t evidence. No mics. No cameras. Nothing.
“You wanna stay somewhere else?” Banks asks me.
We’ve had this talk a lot. Months ago, I would’ve run away from the penthouse at the mere sniff of a mole, but I have something to prove now. Moffy and Jane and Luna will stay no matter what, just like they stayed when a stalker entered the townhouse that burned down.
Leaks aren’t making them flee because “it’s just our life,” Maximoff will say. They deal with the consequences of being born into fame head-on, and even if it’s smarter to leave, I need to stay.
They won’t believe I can handle the heat if I go hide out in a hotel room.
“I’m not leaving,” I say, cupping the glass of water. “This is good training, anyway. The heat of the leaks is like mini-explosions, and it’s preparing me for the big one.”
Our poly relationship.
“The big one isn’t happening anytime soon,” Akara assures. “We want to give you more time.”
“I want more time for all of us,” I admit softly. “So what do we know about the mole?”
Banks curls hair behind his right ear, then left. I love how cute he is when he does that right and left hair-tuck maneuver, but sometimes I worry he does it more often when his head is hurting. “They probably have money,” he says. “Either they hired some tech wizards or they are a fuckin’ tech wizard in their parents’ basement.”
Akara explains to me, “None of our people can trace the IP address. Not even Garrison Abbey could hack through the firewalls.”
So the mole could be a rich mogul or a fifteen-year-old online troll? Two totally different ends of the spectrum.
Fucking ugh. We’re nowhere close to finding them. “Jane said the leaks are starting to appear on Celebrity Crush as headlines.”
They both nod, and the sinking realization stays with me. These truth-bombs are gaining real traction every single day.
“February 4th,” Akara suddenly says.
I frown at the familiar date. “What about my birthday?”
His muscles tighten. “That’s when I think the mole will leak our relationship.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, “wait, how can you even predict a timeline?”
“We’re pretty positive they’ve been holding onto private info and choosing the worst timing to leak it.”
“Worst timing for us,” Banks chimes in, “but best timing for them.”
“Luna’s birthday,” I realize, “they leaked her writing tentacle porn. And tonight, they leaked Moffy’s sex life during the Winter Festival.” His big hoorah back into H.M.C. Philanthropies, they purposely ruined. I see red. “What scum of the fucking earth.”
And now, Akara thinks they’re waiting on a specific, special day to implode my life.