She wasn’t wrong, but she was about to be.

I craved my father’s approval and dreaded confronting him. But her revelation changed everything. He wasn’t a martyr who’d sworn off women after Mum. He was a cradle snatcher, a perv who slept with teenagers.

God. No. Not you, Dad.

She protested with little whines, but by the time she started screaming, I’d shoved Arabella into Uncle Harry’s office, which I knew was empty, and disposed of her on the floor. She was a bit bigger than me, but I was feisty and had enough adrenaline to kill three grown men.

Perched on the floor, her back to Harry’s desk, Arabella laughed and laughed and laughed. There was a crazy zing with her eyes. And sadness. I could smell loss from across the room, and she’d experienced it.

“I can’t get over how much people don’t give a damn about you, girl. Your boyfriend didn’t even tell you he caught me with your dad. He’d have probably stuck his dick in my mouth if my jaw wasn’t busy pleasuring Papa Astalis. Your dad prefers your boyfriend to you. Your best friend, Pope, had to beg people to go to your surprise birthday party because nobody likes you…”

She trailed off, knowing exactly what she was doing, then pressed her fingers over her mouth, raising her eyebrows in false embarrassment.

“Oops. Silly me. Totally forgot it was supposed to be a secret. Pope asked me to come to your surprise party tonight. You sister’s dragging her ass from London to bring the body count up. Everyone’s gonna be there. I mean, all four people in your life. Including me,” she cackled, getting to her feet.

I watched her every move, careful not to say or do anything that could put me in prison. I didn’t trust myself with her. And I also knew Pope well enough to see why he’d invite her. He did have a weakness when it came to crazy lasses—even ones who’d hurt me, it seemed.

Arabella smoothed her skirt and swaggered to the door, making a show of yawning. “Anyway, I’m off to find something cute for tonight so I can upstage you.”

Beat of silence. She ran her eyes over my figure. “Not that it would be a challenge. Tell your daddy you know about us, and I swear your life will be over. Catch ya later.”

I leaned over Harry’s desk, trying to regulate my breath.

I wanted to kill Dad.

Vaughn.

Arabella.

And I was about to be stuck in a room with all of them tonight. Then I remembered I was supposed to meet Raff at ten. It was already half past.

But he just wanted to keep me busy until the evening. He was trying to be nice, while my older sister put things together. My fists curled again of their own accord, and I realized I was choking a piece of paper in my hand. I looked down and unwrinkled it, my heart hammering against my ribcage. I might have ruined an important document that belonged to Uncle Harry.

I looked down and read the words on the page, handwritten by my uncle:

To do list:

Gallery in Milan/call Karla

Rent/landlord/Chelsea flat

Check on VS (been quiet? Vindictive?)

Birthday present/Lenny

VS

Vaughn Spencer.

Somehow I knew, clear as day, that he was talking about Vaughn.

It felt like pieces of a puzzle were falling together—but not into place. I couldn’t get a clear picture of what was happening.

Arabella was here for a reason.

Vaughn, too.

Neither of them was here because of art.

I slid the paper back on the desk, straightened my spine, and walked out the door just as my father came out of his office. He shut the door behind him, holding a paper bag with colorful things inside. When he noticed me, he shoved it back into his room, smiling apologetically.

No need to keep my party a secret. You already gave me one bloody surprise.

“Blimey, that’s some coincidence. I was just about to head over to your room to wish you a happy birthday, Lenny.”

That, after avoiding me for weeks. Yeah. Screw him. Without sparing him a look, I moved past him, my shoulder brushing his side as I advanced toward the stairway.

He called my name, confused, but all I could think about was Papa with his hands on Arabella.

Arabella’s mouth around Vaughn’s cock.

How they’d both chosen her over me—Papa knowing it’d break my heart that he romanced my schoolmate, and Vaughn proving a stupid point with his stupid dick.

She was ruining every relationship I had with the men in my life.

And I was done sitting back and watching it happen.

“They were supposed to be here almost two hours ago. I’m getting worried.” Poppy poked out her lower lip, sitting at a black-mapped table in front of a tray of watermelon-Jolly Rancher-infused margaritas.

Fancy-ass drinks for the most unpretentious girl I’d ever met. Len was a vodka-straight-outta-the-bottle chick, and she was surrounded by extravagant people who didn’t get her. Just like me.