Page 9 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

“The shorter, blond one is Tobey Falstead, the creator of Linto,” Lloyd stated, bringing me back to the here and now. “And Linto is the most cutting-edge dating app. One of the top twenty dating apps in the U.K., actually. It’s an amazing creation.”

“Really?” My voice sounded impressed, but I’d never heard of Linto, and I could only name about three dating apps off the top of my head. Maybe four. Definitely not twenty. So, I’d have to take Lloyd’s word for it that it was amazing.

“Are you on there?” Lloyd asked, and instantly, I wrinkled my nose as I said, “No.”

He didn’t look impressed with my response.

“Tobey is a visionary,” he continued proudly, his nose in the air as he oversold the man he clearly idolised. “His grandfather founded the Hanby chocolate empire, but Tobey is using the family name to steer it into the digital era.”

My eyes bugged.

I knew what Hanby chocolate was. I ate it most days. It was a household name. Fuck me, there was some money standing in that corner, all right.

“And then there’s Ethan Moore,” he went on. “That’s the brown-haired guy next to Tobey. He’s the quieter one of the group. Heavily into tech. I don’t know all the ins and outs, but I know he works at Silicon Valley. He’s only over here in the U.K. for this event. He flies back tomorrow.”

Silicon Valley sounded impressive to a girl who’d never left the U.K. I couldn’t tell you the first thing about it, though. It just sounded intellectual.

“And finally, there’s Alex Kingston, the one with the tattoos. He’s the seventh Duke of Sunford, can you believe, although he refuses to use the title he inherited.” Lloyd leaned closer to me, and on a whisper, he said, “He’s seriously loaded. He could buy every piece of artwork in here... and all the people in the building too.” There was a hint of reverence in his tone and his eyes darted about as if he was worried who was listening. As if the walls had ears.

So there was money on top of money here tonight. It didn’t surprise me, looking at the price tags on the art and the people in attendance.

Lloyd tilted his head even closer, continuing to whisper conspiratorially.

“Kingston’s a bit of a renegade. I think he loves the cash but hates the trappings. But he’s one of our biggest investors and the best client on our books. Alex Kingston collects art like most people collect...”

“Stamps?” I ventured when Lloyd stalled.

“I was going to say something more twenty-first century, but yeah, stamps, I guess.”

“My dad used to collect stamps,” I said on a shrug, trying to claw back a little dignity. Why the fuck did I pick that out of my brain? I could’ve gone with classic cars, designer watches, but no. I chose stamps.

“Used to?” Lloyd smirked. “Let me guess, did he stop when he found out they were lame?” Lloyd laughed at his own weak joke.

“No,” I replied plainly. “He stopped when he died.”

Lloyd didn’t even flinch or register what I’d said. He just nodded dumbly and replied, “Fascinating.”

I just stared blankly at him.

He wasn’t listening. He wasn’t fascinated. He didn’t care. I’d just told him my dad had died, and he hadn’t reacted in the slightest. He was only interested in the trio across the room.

“Would you like to meet them?” he asked, staring at them longingly as he ignored how dumbfounded I was by his insincerity.

I wasn’t sure.

Did I want to meet three wealthy men who might make me feel even more inferior than I did right now?

If I was being honest, all I wanted to do was turn around and walk right out of here. Or maybe hide away until I’d seen the S.K.A.M. performance, then slope off home to eat ice-cream and watch Netflix.

“Erm.” I didn’t get a chance to respond; Lloyd was already walking over to them. “That’ll be a yes, then,” I muttered under my breath sarcastically, and reluctantly, against my gut instincts and my better judgment, I followed him.

As we got closer, Lloyd announced his arrival by puffing out his chest and saying, “Gentlemen.” In what I’m sure he thought was a manly and commanding way, using a voice he hadn’t used when he’d spoken to me. A fake, posh voice to impress his potential buddies. But in reality, it just made him sound like a pompous ass.

It wasn’t lost on me that Alex Kingston, the reluctant duke with the renegade tattoos, the one who’d make any girl’s knees go weak with his dark hair and piercing green eyes, rolled those eyes as Lloyd approached. Then the trio slowly and somewhat unenthusiastically opened up their small circle to allow us to stand with them.

When Alex Kingston’s gaze landed on me, his eyes widened just a hint, as if he was surprised to see me there. Maybe he was surprised to see a woman accompanying Lloyd, and a part of me wanted to make it clear we weren’t a couple, but I stayed quiet. I hadn’t been introduced yet, and I didn’t want to come off as pushy.

The whisky glass he was holding in his tattooed hand, that was so close to his lips he was about to take a sip, froze, and he stared at me for a second, before lowering the glass, leaving it untouched. Perhaps he knew I was from The Echo, and he was readying himself to be on his guard. But I didn’t get an eye roll like Lloyd. Maybe there was hope for me yet.