“Doesn’t she look nice?” Darcy pressed. “Holy shit, Darcy. No one wants to look nice,” I muttered. “Nice girls do,” she hissed back pointedly. Darius laughed and the sound rolled right down my spine and into my soul. “Roxy’s not a nice girl,” he said, his gaze fixed on mine, his pupils larger than normal in his endlessly dark eyes. “No matter how pretty she looks in that dress.”
