Page 59

He leans in, kissing the side of my head. Against it, he whispers, “I love you, Quinn.”

Tears burn my eyes, and I feel a lump form in my throat. Around it, I mutter, “Love you too, Dad.” I watch as he walks away, shrugging. When he reaches my mom, I swear I hear him say he tried. I sigh heavily and then hold my arm out toward the cars. “Let’s go.”

Ava doesn’t move. “You need to fix all that with your family. I can’t have them making me the villain and then acting that way around my family.”

I scoff as I walk around her. “If the title fits, own it, Ava.”

I leave her gawking behind me as I head toward my car, passing Emery’s Bugatti. I wish I were getting into it, with Emery by my side.

We could drive off and leave everything behind us.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

Emery

I realizethat wherever there is a line, Quinn will have me plowing right through it.

I check my morals at the door, and I am on a mission. I chew on the inside of my cheek as I click through different screens. On one, I have Ava’s financials up, and then I have the Mettison family’s on another. The Mettisons are loaded, old money, and while I know it makes me a gloating dick, I have more money and I earned it all myself.

Ava: 0. Emery: 100.

Yes, I get all the wins. She gets none.

Well, she has Quinn.

For now.

I ignore that, gritting my teeth as I look back at the screen. I’m trying to get into their legal records, but they’re locked up tighter than a nun’s ass, so it’s taking more time than I expected. I hope they pay their lawyers good money because they have an intense firewall that would be highly impressive if I weren’t trying to get through it. I’ll be successful, but it’ll take a minute.

I am also digging into Yvette, which is a fucking shitshow when I don’t know her last name. I need into the Mettisons’ legal account so I can find the rental agreement that I’m hoping Yvette is on since she’s Ava’s roommate. Before I check on my progress, I realize I have Ava’s address from her work file. I can find the rental company and locate the rental agreement in that file.

I do just that, and then I find her last name. Yvette Rossi. Italian. Nice. I don’t know why, but I have this feeling that Yvette is somehow important in this mess that Quinn has found himself in. I can’t shake the notion that Ava is blackmailing him, and I don’t like it. But I’m sure that’s what is happening. It makes me want to be a star on my favorite true crime podcast, but I tuck in that crazy as all the information on Yvette Rossi appears on my screen.

She’s twenty-nine, an MIT graduate in art. She’s a glass blower? That’s kind of cool. Maybe if she weren’t involved in blackmailing the man of my dreams, I’d ask for a demonstration. I will refrain. She’s the daughter of divorced parents, who’ve both remarried. She has three older brothers and a cat that passed away two months ago, according to the vet records. I hate that for her, but if her friend doesn’t back down, she’ll be burying her beside her cat.

Wow. Off the deep end I go.

I sigh as I find her socials, which don’t contain much. Lots of pictures of said cat and of her. She’s very pretty, dresses a little like a guy, but who am I to judge? She has three older brothers; maybe girly girl isn’t her jam. I’m quickly scrolling through everything, but then I pause when I see a post of just a pair of hands.

Two female hands.

I know one is Yvette’s by the tattoo of a moon on her thumb, but the other has bright-pink nails and is clutching Yvette’s like she’s her lifeline.

Two hearts beating as one.

I raise a brow. Is Yvette a lesbian?

Wait.

I cock my brow as I go to my search window, which always reminds me of the screens in theMatrix. That makes me giddy, and then I think of Keanu Reeves. Yummo. Just as I type in: Instagram, Ava Mettison, pink nails, a key jiggles in the front door, and I quickly shut everything down.

I glance at the clock. It’s well after midnight. I was so caught up in everything, I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. I get up just as the door opens, but I don’t watch as Quinn comes through. Instead, I lean on the counter, taking a sip of the glass of wine I poured.

It doesn’t take but a second for me to feel his eyes moving over my body. I’m still in my dress from earlier, too caught up in my mission to change. I look over to see him standing there, looking so unsure and tired. God, he looks so tired. He has dark circles under his sad blue eyes. I swallow past the lump in my throat and pull my gaze from him. As much as I want to comfort him, I am so mad that he chose her over me. I bite my lip as I fight back the tears. I hate that I pushed him away so hard that he ran to her.

My biggest mistake will be my downfall.