Page 15 of A Violet Obsession

“That’s right.”

“Huh.” She glances at my knuckles, and I know she can see the scarring on my arms and hands, only partially obscured by my tattoos. “You’ve been in a lot of fights for a guy who works with computers.”

I keep my expression neutral, but my interest just jumped about ten notches.

What happened to you, Butterfly? Who taught you how to recognize signs of violence in a person?

Not liking the feeling of being off-center, I throw my own verbal grenade. “What kind of messed-up drama have you pulled my sister into?”

Her face stills, and then the fake smile is back. “There’s no drama.”

“I don’t know,” I say, keeping my tone even. “Being involved in an armed robbery seems pretty dramatic. Why do the police think you’re involved?” I lean back and cross my arms over my chest, and wait.

We sit in silence for several long moments. And I admit, she lasts longer than I expect, staring into her coffee.

Finally, her green gaze lifts to mine. I’m not prepared for the jolt that hits me when our eyes connect. Heat twists tighter in my gut until I see the look in her eyes change.

I know that look. I’ve seen it in dozens of interrogations. The careful calculation of someone deciding how much truth they should share, because they’re hiding something big.

My jaw clenches as a familiar bitterness settles in my chest.

Once again, my body only wants liars.

8

LILY

Emma is still teasing me about my teenage crush on her brother when the hairs along the back of my neck lift. A sharp awareness I’ve learned never to ignore.

Someone’s watching me.

My eyes open and I freeze. Emma’s voice fades into the background, because standing in front of me might be the hottest man I’ve ever seen.

Finn?

He’s not the Finn I remember. This version is… I don’t know how to describe it, but my ovaries really like it.

Gone is the tall, skinny boy with intense hazel eyes hidden behind glasses. This Finn is even taller than before, with tattoos covering his fingers and wrapping around his corded forearms in almost geometric patterns. When he shifts his weight, I can see his muscles flex under his shirt. His jaw is sharper, roughened with stubble, and even though he’s still lean, he carries himself like he takes up more space than he actually does.

Holy Crap.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. I know I’m blatantly checking him out, but I can’t help myself. I drag my gaze up past the stubble to my favorite feature. The black frames are gone, but I’d know those eyes anywhere.

I’d built entire fantasies around them.

He sits down across from me. His knee presses against mine under the table, and every nerve in my body lights up—until I register the cold, assessing look in his eyes.

Less than two minutes later my heart feels like a lead weight in my chest, making it hard to breathe easily. I tell myself it’s a symptom of everything that’s happened over the last twenty-four hours finally catching up to me, and not because the boy I clearly still have feelings for, is looking at me with thinly veiled suspicion and more than a little hostility.

Yeah, time to go.

“Finn—” I brace my palms on the edge of the table to push my chair back, but the words die in my throat when his large hand encircles my wrist for the briefest moment before he jerks his hand back like he’s been burned.

I’m clearly having sleep-deprivation-induced hallucinations because—is he blushing?

Finn stares at me with an almost angry expression, and my own temper frays. I didn’t ask for any of this shit, and I’m not going to sit here while he judges me with his stupid hot face when he doesn’t have any idea what’s really going on.

“I’m sorry Emma called you. I didn’t know she was going to do that. It wasn’t necessary, and I’m sure you have better things to do today.” I attempt to stand again.