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“Lexi.”
Deanna laughs. “Sure. She deserves that.”
I raise a brow.
This time, her laugh is big enough to light her entire face. Unlike Lexi, she doesn’t shine like the sun. But she glows in her own way.
The moon. This soft, silver symbol of feminine beauty.
“That’s the first sign of sibling rivalry I’ve heard from you,” I say. “Ever.”
“Nice try, River, but it’s time to pay your bill.” She offers her hand as if she’s asking for cash.
I pick up the glasses.
The light fades as I turn away from her, but it’s different than it is with other people. Some of the glow lingers. Because I still have her attention? Or because that’s what Deanna does?
I’m not sure.
I face Alice with a smile. “Another, please.”
She shoots me that sameare you really wasting that girl’s timelook, shakes her head, and fixes two drinks. “Let her down easy, okay?”
She writesI mean it, Riveron the receipt. I don’t argue. I slip the paper into my back pocket, carry the drinks to the table, and sit across from Deanna.
“All right, Mr. Beau.” She wraps her long, narrow fingers around the stem and pulls the glass to her. “What exactly do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“Greedy,” she says.
She’s teasing, but I feel it. I feel greedy in a way I haven’t in a long time. I want to know what happened with this guy. I want to understand why she’s cold and distant.
What sort of person devotes themselves to love—creates a dating app designed for forever relationships—when they don’t believe in it?
“What was it you didn’t like?” I ask.
“I guess there’s no coy way to say it.” She brings the drink to her lips, sips, and lets out a sigh of pleasure.
It’s a sound I’ve never heard from her. A sound I never expected to hear.
Deanna Huntington wants things. Deanna Huntington groans over a perfect cocktail. And a perfect experience with the first half of the word, no doubt.
“He wanted a Domme,” she says.
“And you?”
“What do you think?”
“I can see you in thigh-high boots, cracking a whip.” In only thigh-high boots. I see it far too vividly, actually.
“I look hot as hell in thigh-high boots,” she says.
“Do you have pictures?” Where the hell did that come from?
“They’re only for people I’m fucking.”
“There are other people?”
