Read Cherry Creek Online

Authors: Dani Matthews

Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Coming of Age, #New Adult & College, #Paranormal & Urban, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Demons & Devils, #Teen & Young Adult

Cherry Creek (10 page)

BOOK: Cherry Creek
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I stare at the boxes, puzzling over them. How long have they been here? Or had Sorcha brought over some of her own shoes that she no longer wanted? That would explain the dust if they'd been sitting in
her
closet for several weeks.

Feeling curious, I pick up the first box and lift the lid. A brand new pair of fire engine red high heels are nestled amongst the tissue. I pick one up and study it. When I lift the shoe and look at the bottom, a bar code sticker is still attached. It's brand new and in my size. I quickly open the other boxes, and they all look new. Most still have bar code stickers on the bottom.

That's weird.

I sit among the shoes and debate whether it's possible they were bought before Khristos showed up at the apartment back in Missouri. But if that's the case, he would have been planning to bring me to Cherry Creek
before
Brad attacked me.

There's something odd going on. I've been sensing it for a while now, and maybe it's time to listen to my gut instinct. I'm also wasting time as I sit here among the various shoes. I highly doubt Khristos appreciates tardiness. I grab a pair of strappy, silver high heels and leave the closet.

As I enter the bedroom, I can't help but pause to look around. It still bugs me that it's almost as if Khristos plucked the image of all the things I want from my head, to make up this bedroom. The fact that he'd nailed down my favorite styles and colors is unsettling.

I think it's time to take more of an initiative where my mom is concerned. I've held out hope that she would contact me, but it's apparent that's not going to happen.

I have two choices. Either accept living with the Deveroux's until I'm eighteen, or find my mom and talk her into taking back guardianship. My mom wins hands down. I can't accept living here with the Deveroux's until I figure out what they're hiding, and that could take a full three months to figure out. I just have this weird feeling that these people are not who they say they are.

Since I have the dinner to attend, I try to shove my suspicions out of my head and focus on securing my hair into a simple knot at the nape of my neck. When I feel that I am ready, I make my way downstairs.

Five minutes later I am carefully slipping into the backseat of a limousine as Trace holds the door open for me. Khristos is already seated on the opposite side as Roman slips in behind me, settling in a seat close to my own. I smile politely at Khristos, feeling a brief moment of relief that I'd guessed correctly about what to wear for the evening. Khristos is wearing a dark, gray suit, and Roman is wearing dark pants and a matching long-sleeved dress shirt. Both of them look like they've stepped off a fashion runway.

There's a moment of awkward silence as the limousine starts up and begins to make its way down the driveway. Khristos's phone rings from within the depths of his suit pocket, and he frowns briefly before pulling it out. He glances at the number, and his eyes flicker to first me and then Roman. “I apologize, but I must take this call.”

Roman waves his hand as if he could care less. “Go for it.”

Khristos begins to speak into the phone but not in English. I wonder what language it is. It's not Spanish. At least not that I can recognize. Is it French? Italian?

The rest of the ride to Minneapolis is uneventful. Roman doesn't try to carry on a conversation with me, since Khristos stays on the phone right up until we arrive at a classy restaurant. When he realizes we've reached our destination, he quickly says something into the phone and pockets it. He then apologizes to us before the limo door opens and Trace is there.

As soon as we walk into the restaurant, I want to walk right back out. The place is elegant, and soft instrumental music fills the dining room we are led to. The walls are a rich, cream color with white, decorative crown moldings along the ceiling. Two large, crystal chandeliers hang over the room. The atmosphere is intimate, because the lighting has been dimmed now that it’s late evening. I note that the restaurant is busy, and there's a quiet hum of conversation along with the clinking of silverware. We are immediately led to a table on the opposite side of the room, and I can’t help but glance around a bit nervously. There are a few sculptures in front of the windows, giving the place an airy artistic feel. Rich paintings adorn some of the walls but not all, so as not to seem too cluttered with décor.

After sitting down in a plush, gray chair that is politely pulled out for me, I spy the numerous pieces of silverware next to each plate. I can't help but inwardly cringe. In my mind, I'm envisioning the dining scene from
Pretty Woman.
Hopefully, I won't be making a fool out of myself tonight.

My eyes nearly pop out of my head when I scan the menu. First, I don’t really recognize the foods listed. Second, the prices are ridiculous.

I’ve never been to a restaurant that serves an honest to God first course. The only thing I recognize is lobster, so I awkwardly order the sweet corn agnolotti with poached lobster, creamed spinach and curry. For my main entrée, I flush slightly as I order the grilled beef tenderloin with pine nut panisse, cauliflower and za’atar. It’s the most expensive entrée, but I can’t figure out what the other options are, so I am assuming beef is a safe bet.

When the waiter leaves, Khristos turns his full attention on me while we wait for our dinner. “What do you think of Cherry Creek so far?”

“It's nice.”

“Have you made any friends?”

“She's shy,” Roman cuts in before I can respond. “I had to twist her arm to get her to spend fifteen minutes out by the pool Friday night.” He looks at me, and his lip quirks up in the corner.

“I'm not shy,” I say to him. I'm getting annoyed with the fact that he seems to find me amusing. My attention shifts to Khristos questioningly. “You knew about the party?”

“I'm aware of everything that goes on under my roof.”

“But they had beer.”

Khristos smiles slightly and gives a half-shrug. “I'm a bit laid back, I suppose you could say. I respect a person's right to choose what they do as long as they are smart about it.”

“So, you don't have a problem with underage drinking?” I ask skeptically.

“It depends on the circumstances,” Khristos says as he reaches for his wine glass. “Roman took care to make sure that there were sober drivers for those that were too inebriated to make it home on their own.”

Roman smirks at me. “Livvy, he owns the most popular club in the area. You really think he's going to make a big deal out of a little party?”

I want to hit him, but instead my confusion over their blasé attitude wins out. Am I being prudish or something? “That's right,” I say as I deliberately ignore Roman and look at Khristos. “Trace mentioned you own a club.”

Khristos nods. “Yes, it's called Bane. You're more than welcome to go. The only rule I have where you, Roman, and Roman's friends are concerned, is that if you make a scene or get drunk, you're out for good. Know your limit and have fun. Screw up, and I won't be happy,” he warns.

The tone of his voice has my skin prickling slightly. I’m pretty sure he’s not the type to make idle threats. There’s something about Khristos that has me sensing he can be quite dangerous if you get on his bad side. It’s that calm, calculated reserve of his. The man doesn’t seem to tolerate needlessly idle conversation. He only says what’s necessary, then he’s content to move on. I’d seen him act that way towards my mom during the short time he’d been in Missouri.

“So the club is eighteen and older?” I reach for my water, suddenly feeling thirsty.

“Twenty-one,” Khristos corrects.

I set my glass down and look at him doubtfully. “And you're okay with me going?”

Khristos fights back a smile, and irritation sweeps through me. What is up with the Deveroux men laughing me? Are my questions that out of the ordinary? “You don't strike me as the type to get completely annihilated from alcohol. I'm fine with you going to Bane,” he tells me.

“What if they check my ID?”

“They won't.”

“Why wouldn't they?” I press.

“They already know to be on the lookout for you,” he says simply.

Khristos is a strange man. Is this how the rich generally live? They break rules because they can? I don't know how to navigate this world they live in. In fact, trying to figure it out makes my temple ache. I reach up and absently rub it.

“Headache?” Roman asks me.

I glance up to find both of them watching me intently. “Just a little one. I'm still adjusting to...everything.” Roman's eyes shift to Khristos, and they exchange some sort of look that I can’t help but notice. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all,” Khristos says smoothly. “Tell me, how do you like your job so far?”

“I like it. A lot, actually.” It feels good to be making my own money.

“Do you get discounts on lingerie?” Roman asks with sudden interest as his eyes lock on mine.

For a second, I am struck speechless that he would dare ask such a bold question, especially in front of Khristos of all people. “Excuse me?”

He grins a bit devilishly. “You heard me. I'm just curious.”

I debate whether or not to answer the question, and when I see that Khristos doesn't seem to mind that the topic has shifted to lingerie, I figure I'd better answer or I'll look like a moron. Or I'll be on the receiving end of more of Roman’s annoying smirks. “Well, yes. Not that I've bought any.” I mentally kick myself for opening up a new can of worms. One of these days, I’m going to learn that oversharing with Roman can lead to stupid conversations like this one.

“Why not?” Roman asks, his eyes now challenging me as if he can tell I'm uncomfortable.

Is this the type of conversation they find appropriate? I look at Khristos, and he's once again sipping his wine, unconcerned by the odd topic of whether I've bought lingerie recently. “Because I'm fine with what I have,” I say a bit awkwardly.

Roman shakes his head, his attention shifting to his own glass of water. “I see I have a lot of work ahead of me,” he says as he takes a drink.

“Roman,” Khristos murmurs with a hint of disapproval in his tone.

I look away, feeling beyond uncomfortable. What did Roman mean? Why is Khristos just now deciding to end the conversation? And what was up with that look they'd exchanged when I'd mentioned my headache? There's something going on, and I am unwittingly caught up in the middle of it somehow.

***

I've decided I am going to hire a private investigator to find my mom. I'm not big on using Khristos's money, but I figure I'll use as much of it as I need to in order to find my mom. However, we'd gotten back late last night, and today I work a full shift at the store. I'll have to research private investigators later tonight. I’m hoping I can hire one here in Cherry Creek. It would be worth going to Minneapolis to hire one, but it would certainly make things easier if there was someone in town that I could hire.

At the store, I decide to see if I can pump Selena for some information on Khristos. Maybe she could give me a little insight into his world.

“Have you always lived in Cherry Creek?” I ask while Selena and I work together to set up a new display of lacy panties on a round, cloth-covered table.

“Just for the past five years,” she says as she carefully spreads out a pair of panties on top of the one she'd just put down a second ago.

“Oh. Do you know much about my uncle? Khristos Deveroux?”

“He owns Bane. I love that club.” She looks up and gives me a sly look, her dark pink lips parting as she flashes perfectly, white teeth. “Maybe you could introduce us sometime.”

Yeah, I don't think so.
“Sure, if he ever stops in or something,” I say as I pull another handful of panties out of the shipment box they'd arrived in.

Selena looks pleased as she goes back to strategically placing the scant pieces of fabric on the table. “What's he like?”

“What do you mean?” I set the panties on the table and grab the first one off the pile to display on my side of the table.

“You live with him. Do you spend much time with him?”

“No, not really. He seems like he's always busy.”

“I heard he has an on and off again girlfriend. Is that true?” Selena asks with great interest.

I glance at her to see that she's hanging on every word I say. She knows absolutely
nothing
, and now I'm the one getting grilled. Figures. “Ah, I think so. I haven't been here long, so I don't really know that much about him.”

The bell above the door dings, and we both look up as a couple of women enter the shop. Selena pats the pile of panties that still need to be set out. “I'll let you finish this,” she says as she saunters away towards the women.

I go back to working on the display as I hear all three women laugh while Selena leads them towards the back of the store. A bit later, I've just finished helping a woman in her mid-thirties pick out a lingerie set for a bridal shower she's attending, when I turn around and come up short.

A beautiful girl my age stands before me. She has long, glossy, ink black hair that falls almost to her waist while beautifully exotic, brown eyes study me with bold interest. She's taller than me by a few inches, and she's dressed to impress. Her blouse shows off her full breasts, and she's wearing tight, black pants with knee-high boots over them. The purse hanging over her arm probably costs more than my entire wardrobe. Not the one Sorcha bought, but the one that I've compiled through the years with my own cash.

The girl smiles at me, but it’s the kind of smile that has me going alert with caution. It reminds me of the way Roman looks at me. Like he's humoring me. “I'm Tatum, a friend of Roman's,” she introduces.

Well, that's not surprising. Roman's gorgeous, so I would expect him to surround himself with good looking people. I wonder if they're dating. “Nice to meet you,” I say politely.

“I would have introduced myself at the party, but you disappeared.”

“I wasn't really in the party mood,” I say lightly.

Tatum nods as if she understands. “It must be strange getting used to a new family and new town. At least you don't have to deal with school until September.”

BOOK: Cherry Creek
5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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