Misfortune Cookie by Casey Wyatt Read Free Book Online

hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me. I merely wished you to know that you serve a higher purpose. That your sacrifice will help save others. I know you want to be free, but consider the cost.”
    “You’re right.” I swiped away the tears. “This is my fault. Tell me their names so I won’t forget them.”
    Luca studied my face. “As you wish. But first we must alert the authorities and leave this place.”
    No argument there.
    The following morning I woke up dry-mouthed and exhausted. I’d tossed and turned all night, unable to forget the horrors of the last twenty-four hours. At least once, I considered seeking out Luca, but discarded the notion of alone time with him. Showing up by his bedside in the middle of the night, clad in only undies and a T-shirt, confused about my feelings was a recipe for trouble. Until I figured out why my body sang like a harp for his, I needed to steer clear.
    He ended up sleeping over in my guest bedroom after a brief debate about where I’d spend the night. For me the only answer was my house. Not Ashworth Manor. I wasn’t leaving Brody to fend for himself another day and I wanted—no—needed, to be in my own home. Luca relented but insisted on staying.
    After a long hot shower, I dressed in my favorite comfy jeans and an oversized T-shirt emblazoned with the name of my roller derby team. Practice would be starting in a few short weeks and I relished being with my friends. Sure, they’d probably be surprised to learn my identity as an heiress, but I also knew it wouldn’t stop any of them from hip checking me onto the ground. If Luca thought he could stop me from enjoying my life, he could suck it.
    Downstairs, the TV blared the latest headlines. Julian loved television. Unfortunately, he couldn’t control the volume all that well. I half listened to the latest political poll results, an update on the war on terror, and some fluff about the latest celebrity brat out of rehab. Thankfully no mention of me. Yet.
    My thoughts were mostly about drinking coffee and wrangling my wet hair into a ponytail when one snippet caught my attention. “Prominent millionaire, Jonas Wilson was found murdered late last night in his penthouse. His death, right after the passing of Sebastian Ashworth, a close friend and business partner have some speculating there is a larger conspiracy. Wilson owned numerous businesses…”
    I knew Jonas. He was a rich arrogant prick, but even he didn’t deserve to be murdered. I padded down the stairs in time to see footage of EMTs wheeling out his body zipped in a black bag.
    The reporter continued. “Police have provided few details and would only confirm it was a homicide. Word from an inside source who wished to remain anonymous is that the scene was a blood bath.”
    Red stained my vision. I swayed on my feet, steadying myself by gripping the back of the sofa. After what I had seen last night, it was easy to imagine similar carnage. With a headshake, I buried away the memory, taking Luca’s advice to learn to compartmentalize. Otherwise, I’d go insane.
    With Julian nowhere in sight, I clicked the TV off and headed through the seldom-used dining room. A heavenly aroma of fresh coffee and bacon wafted out of the kitchen.
    Luca faced the counter clad only in his dress pants. My mouth watered, but not for food. Every sleek inch of his back was smooth and sculpted. His pale skin glowed in the morning sun streaming in from the windows. The light danced on his black hair and for a moment, I swore it turned a silvery white color. I blinked. Neatly folded along his back was the faint outline of phantom wings.
    No fucking way. I swallowed and rubbed my eyes. The vision was gone.
    Clearly, I needed caffeine. And a CAT scan.
    He turned around and dazzled me with a brilliant smile and a view of his gorgeous chest. The brand, evenly centered, looked like nothing more than a tattoo. Even better, he held out a steaming mug of