Twisted Pretty Things (Shadows of London #1)

by Ariana Nash

Gina snorted. “Hot AF.” She sighed. “All the gays in Soho are gorgeous. It’s so unfair.” She wasn’t wrong. It had taken Gina a week to hit on me and discover that, as lovely as she was, her efforts were wasted. I’d gained one hell of a friend, though.

I rolled my Italian eyes—courtesy of my father, who had tried to beat the gay out of me. Clearly, that hadn’t worked.

Robin was the backbone of the business. Nothing got by her. She made sure all the i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed. She had to be hard to tame Kempthorne into signing checks. After two years, I’d grown fond of her grumpy ways like you grow fond of a Siamese cat you know wants to murder you but can’t figure out how.

“Am I all right with lying to the prick who fu—screwed me over, executed a latent, and stole our artifact? I’m sure I’ll manage.”

This might have been the first time I’d seen him dressed in a tux and bow tie and he fucking dazzled. I’d seen him in suits, mostly the morning after whatever he’d been up to the night before, so he’d always been scruffy and disheveled. But not here. Here he shone, the epitome of masculinity and money, all fine lines, crisp tailoring, and smooth silk shirts. The

Whirling, I ducked my head back inside and glared at the man who had just put my life on the line and used me for some bullshit secret case. He stared back, his face guarded, but his arctic-blue eyes blazed their fury. “The next time you want to fuck me over, the least you can do is prep me first.”

One perk of living where you work was the lack of commute. No sane person wants to ride the Tube twice a day. However, a major downside was having to look the boss in the eye before you’ve had your first morning coffee and after his actions had almost blown you to bits, for which you’d tossed a scorcher of a gay insult in his face.

“I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” “I know but Kempthorne… he kinda has tunnel vision sometimes and he forgets we’re not in the tunnel with him, yah know?”

“Two stitches.” He frowned, creasing the little butterfly bandage over his eyebrow. “Shame to scar all that.” I waved at his face. “Women everywhere will cry themselves to sleep.”

His quick smile was gone after a second, but a little mischief still sparkled in his eyes. “Despite what you think, I’m not a bad guy.” “Uh huh.” I had to laugh. “That’s exactly what a bad guy would say.”

“At the dinner, you said something about money not making a man good. What was that all about?” Kempthorne’s real smile melted all the leftover ice in his glare. “I simply meant you’re worth more than any man there and you needn’t have felt uncomfortable.”

The elevator still climbed, taking its sweet time. Where the fuck were we going, Narnia?

Not many people had cared in my life. I wasn’t sure what to do with the strange sensation of knowing I might have actual friends.

The reporters erupted in a wave of questions, demanding to know everything about his sex life. How he didn’t tell them to keep their fucking noses out of his business, I’ve no idea, which was probably why I was never allowed to talk to the press.

“I’m going to teach you how to get where you wanna go in London, but if I lose you on the Underground, you’ll be halfway to Luton. So stay on me.” He stayed glued to my back. “English, I got no idea what you’re saying.” I tossed him a smile, which loosened him up some and teased his own smile onto his lips. I lived for this shit. The hunt, the chase. “Just stay on my arse.” Hollywood’s gaze dropped. “Copy that.”

Frowning, he leaned forward. “You can be a real prick you know that?” “It has been suggested.”

Alexander Kempthorne was dangerous; he was reckless and excellent at subtle deception.

“Trust me?” Arching an eyebrow, I sat back in the seat. As a billionaire, he had a lot of things, but my trust wasn’t one of them.

“For what it’s worth, the circumstances of your arrival change nothing,” Kempthorne said. “I value you as a member of the team, as I always have. Gina would be heartbroken if you left and Robin… Honestly, I think Robin tolerates you.”

Robin is pissed off about everything, but mostly me and the missing custard creams.

Climbing the stairs, I shrugged off my jacket and called, “Hi Honey, I’m home.” The sudden sight of Kempthorne standing on the landing stopped my heart. “Er.” I winced. Had I just called him Honey? “Hi. That was, er… I meant for Gina to—”

“It’s been interesting, Dom. Although, expenses have increased since your arrival. I’m not yet sure if there’s a correlation.” Her smile at the end suggested she was joking. Maybe.