Page 87 of The Devil of Downtown

Without a word, I follow her, vengeance heavy in my gut.

Because now I’ve never been so sure of anything.

I will find out who is responsible, and they will pay.

Minute by minute.

Hour by hour.

Until they wish they had never been born.

Chapter twenty-one

Ivy

I’m dragged out of sleep by a small elbow landing squarely on my ribs. Elsie is sprawled across me like she’s claiming territory, blinking up with a sunny, too-awake grin.

As I reach for my cellphone to check the time, the first thing I see isn’t the hour—it’s a message from Dane, sent sometime in the night:Can I see you?

A stupid, traitorous smile curves across my mouth, excitement churning that I will see him later tonight.

I jolt as Elsie lands on my stomach with zero remorse.

“Auntie Ivy, I’m hungry, and Mommy’s asleep,” she announces like it’s a crime, already crawling under my arm like a baby octopus.

“Are you sure?” I say, rubbing my bleary eyes. Sloane is usually up before the sun, glowing and organized. Then I remember that last night was Dane’s father’s engagement party, and it all makes sense.

“Come on,” I say, nudging Elsie off the bed. “Let’s feed you before you start gnawing on my arm.”

We head into the kitchen, and I assemble her usual breakfast—cereal, toast, fruit, tiny dinosaur vitamins she insists are proper medicine and definitely not candy. Elsie chatters through all of it, narrating absolutely everything she’s doing.

Sloane eventually appears, wrapped in a silk robe and moving like someone whose soul has left her body and is considering returning later.

“You okay?” I ask, trying not to smirk.

She presses her fingers to her temples. “Ugh, who turned the volume up?”

“That good, huh?” I tease. “So, how was it?”

“Extravagant, over the top...kind of like if hell had a black tie dress code.”

“Sounds about right.” I snort.

“But the champagne was exquisite,” she groans, guzzling a glass of water. “I might have shared a bottle with Dominic Bexley.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Fancy.”

“I might have also—” she winces “—accidentally shown him a picture of Elsie.”

I wave it off. “He’ll survive. And there’s no way Dominic speaks to Dane anyway, so you’re safe.”

She cringes into her coffee. “True.”

I force a light tone, casual, breezy, like I haven’t been thinking about Dane since I opened my eyes.

“So... how was he?”

Sloane looks up. “Who?”